His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Lord Cresswel bowed. "Of course, Your Majesty." He stepped away with Lionel, leaving Henry alone.

Henry looked down at the grave, and all the things he had thought he might say vanished. "There should be plenty for me to say," he began quietly. "Things I should have said while you were still here. You may not have been my one great love but you were my friend."

Bella had never demanded to be made into something false. She had known the shape of their relationship. She had loved him in her own way. She had been kind to him.

"I brought justice today," he said. "Not enough. It will never be enough. But I brought it down upon the one who caused us pain." He swallowed hard. "And I will bring justice on the one who took you from us."

Henry inhaled deeply, then let the breath out slowly. He closed his eyes and pictured Bella as she had been in her final days. There had been a freedom beginning to show in her, a small lifting of spirit, as if she had finally stopped waiting for court to grant permission for peace. Her smile had come easier. Her affection for Livia had been unexpected but real.

"Rest well, Bella," Henry said at last. He stood a moment longer. "Save a seat." He made the sign of the cross and turned away.

Lord Cresswel and Lionel waited . Henry walked back to them. Lord Cresswel bowed as he approached.

"Is Lady Cresswel at home?" Henry asked.

"No, Your Majesty," Lord Cresswel said. "She is still at my son’s house. His wife was lately delivered of a child, and my lady is helping with the household."

"Please extend my condolences to her," Henry said. "And my congratulations, though I know joy must be difficult just now."

"I shall tell her, Your Majesty. This is a great honour. I am truly humbled that you came yourself."

"It is I who should be humbled. Your daughter deserved more than I gave her. I cannot undo any of it, but I can promise you this: whatever you need, anything you need, you are to think of me first."

Lord Cresswel’s grief broke visibly then. He bowed deeply and took Henry’s hand, pressing his lips to the royal ring in a gesture of loyalty, and gratitude too heavy for words.

When Lord Cresswel released him, Henry inclined his head in farewell. He walked back to his horse, needing to get back to Livia.

*****

That night, Livia regained consciousness. At first, she knew only light. It swam above her in a soft golden blur, trembling as though the candles had been placed underwater. Her eyes opened, closed, then opened again, and it took several long moments before the shapes of the room settled into sense. A carved ceiling. A large bed that was certainly not hers. The faint smell of herbs.

Her throat hurt. Her chest hurt. Her entire body felt as though it had been taken apart. She turned her head slowly.

Why was she in the king’s chamber? For one confused moment, she thought Lionel had hidden her there after all.

Then memory returned. Lionel was in the cells.She remembered the blood in her palm. Tabitha’s face bending over her.

Livia drew in a sharp breath and pushed herself upright. "What..."

How had she come here? How long had she been unconscious? Had the plan worked? Had Theodora been forced to call the physician? Was Lionel still alive? Had the other women been married?

Her eyes moved across the room. Then she saw him. Henry sat in a chair near the bed, fast asleep. Livia forgot the pain.

He was there. His hair was disordered, his face drawn with exhaustion, his body slumped at an awkward angle. He was back.

Her heart slammed. "Henry," she whispered.

Excitement and sheer foolish love pushed her into motion. Livia threw back the coverlet and tried to get to her feet.

The moment her feet touched the floor, the room spun. The bed and Henry’s sleeping form lurched violently sideways. Her knees gave way, and she tumbled down with a startled yelp.

Henry’s eyes flew open. He looked wild with panic. Then he saw her on the floor. "Livia!" He was out of the chair instantly. He crossed the room and dropped beside her, gathering her up.

"You’re back," she said, clutching at his sleeve. "You’re really back. How long was I out?"

She stared at him. He looked awful. His eyes were red-rimmed, his jaw shadowed. He lifted her as carefully as if she were glass.

"Just relax, love," he murmured. "I shall answer all your questions in due time."

Henry placed her back on the bed and drew the coverlet over her. He turned and pulled the bell rope.

Within moments, Stephen appeared at the door in his nightshirt and robe, his hair flattened on one side.

"Your Majesty?" he said, alarmed.

Then his eyes landed on the bed.

Livia lifted one tired hand. "Stephen."

"Thank the heavens," he breathed.

"Fetch the physician."

"Right away, my lord." Stephen disappeared quickly.

Henry turned back to Livia. She reached for his hand, and he gave it to her at once. His fingers closed around hers. Livia squeezed weakly.

"It is good to see you," she said softly.

"It is good to see you too, though not under the conditions in which I found you."

"Right sorry about that."

"Sorry?" Henry said. "You were poisoned."

Livia swallowed, then immediately regretted it. Her throat burned, and her chest answered with a dull ache. The poison had left her body feeling borrowed and resentful of every movement she attempted.

"My desperation drove me to it," she said.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"I had to."

Henry’s fingers tightened around hers. "You poisoned yourself?" His face drained of colour.

Fortunately, heaven chose that moment to send the physician. The physician entered with Stephen at his heels, carrying his case.

"Your Majesty," the physician said, bowing quickly. His gaze moved at once to Livia. "My lady, you are awake...If Your Majesty would excuse me."