His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

"Is there something you need?" Livia asked.

Stephen bowed slightly. "His Majesty requests your presence."

Bella’s eyes brightened.

Livia ignored her. "Now?"

"If you are willing, my lady."

Bella leaned forward and clasped both hands to her chest. "’If you are willing,’" she sang softly. "Oh, His Majesty is smitten beyond saving."

Livia reached over and tapped Bella lightly on the arm. "Will you stop being a child?"

"No."

"That was not a question." Livia rose, smoothing her gown. "Do I need to change?"

Stephen’s gaze moved over her attire with respectful brevity. "No, my lady. We remain within Whitehall."

"I shall see you later, Bella."

Bella gave a small wave, her eyes still sparkling with mischief. "Give His Majesty my regards."

Livia followed Stephen out into the corridor. He walked beside her, neither hurrying nor delaying. For a few turns, they said nothing.

Livia glanced at him. Stephen kept his eyes forward. They passed beneath an archway and entered a quieter passage where the noise of the palace thinned. "Stephen?"

He stopped at once. "My lady?"

Livia glanced behind them, though the passage was empty. One did not simply speak in a corridor here. "Will you be accompanying His Majesty to France?"

"I wish I could say no. But His Majesty can barely function without me."

"Oh my," she said solemnly. "You should be knighted."

"I have long believed so."

"You are very humble."

"It is one of my better disguises."

Livia almost smiled, but the weight of what she meant to ask pressed too heavily. Stephen saw the change in her at once. His humour folded away.

"Why do you ask?" he said.

She clasped her hands before her. "I need to get a message to the Duke of Kingsmere."

His face became careful, and his eyes sharpened. "My lady...surely you do not think I would betray my lord."

"No."

"Then why ask this of me?"

"I am not asking you to betray him."

"You are asking me to carry a private message to a man you used to be with."

When spoken that way, it did sound terrible.

Livia drew a breath. "It is nothing untoward. I would not do that."

"I believe you would not intend to."

The distinction hurt because it was fair.

"I do not know what choices Henry means to place before Richard. I do not know what shape his mercy will take, or whether it will feel like mercy at all. But if I can influence Richard from here, even a little, then I must try." She could feel him weighing her words. "Just two words...Please, Stephen."

His gaze remained on her face. Then, he nodded.

Livia swallowed. "Tell him, ’Choose home.’"

Stephen waited. "That is all?"

"That is all."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "And if he does?" Stephen’s voice remained respectful, but there was steel beneath it. "If His Grace comes home, if he accepts whatever condition His Majesty places before him, will you run back into his arms?"

"Even if I could," she said, "I will not." Livia lifted her chin, because the truth deserved to be said without trembling. "It is too late now."

The king had touched her, tempted her. She was no longer the woman Richard had rescued. Diana Bellamy had been a temporary shelter.

"I will deliver the message if I am able," he said.

"Thank you."

"I make no promise about how His Grace receives it."

"I only need him to hear it."

Stephen bowed. "Then he shall."

They continued down the passage together. They passed through the main building and out towards the stable court.

A groom held two horses near the archway. Another tightened a girth.

Henry stood beside a dark horse, one hand resting against its neck. "Livia."

Her name left him with such tenderness that her stomach tightened in that strange, traitorous way. She approached and curtsied. "Your Majesty." Livia looked from him to the horses. "Are we riding out again today?"

"No," Henry said, then faltered. "I... after last night, I thought it might be good for you to have a horse of your own."

"You got me a horse?" Her voice rose on the last word, bright with such naked delight that Henry’s brows drew together in astonishment. She moved past him at once, skirts gathered in one hand as she hurried towards the animal.

The animal was beautiful: a dark, graceful gelding with a white mark down his face. His coat had been brushed until it shone, and the new saddle was plain but finely made.

Livia reached out slowly, palm open. The gelding lowered his head and breathed warmly against her fingers. "Oh," she whispered. "My goodness."

Henry watched her as if someone had pressed a hand into his chest and closed around his heart. "I would buy you a hundred more...to hear you sound like that again."

Livia glanced back, caught the tenderness on his face, and immediately tried to collect herself. It was too late. Her joy had already escaped and danced shamelessly around the stable yard. She stroked the horse’s face, her palm moving gently down the smooth line between his eyes. "He is beautiful."

"I hoped you would like him."

"I love him." She stopped, then looked at Henry more carefully. "Why?"

"Riding gives the illusion of freedom," he said. "There is space beyond the tiltyard, and the fields towards St James’s. Enough room to ride when you feel trapped in the castle. I cannot give you all the freedom you want. Perhaps not ever in the way you deserve. But this..." He looked back at her. "This much I can give."

Henry’s voice lowered. "I am sorry it is not enough."

Livia’s chest ached. "It is perfect." She stepped close and kissed his cheek.

"You should name him," Henry said.

Livia turned quickly back to the horse, grateful for the excuse to hide her face. "I could be annoying and name him Henry."

Henry’s mouth curved. "It is not so bad. I would die happy with the knowledge that you were riding Henry whenever you pleased."