His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Her Grace turned slowly.

"To execute a man lawfully cannot be done in minutes. His Majesty is absent from the realm. Only the king may command such a sentence outright in this matter. A man in my position would require proper examination, sworn testimony, and the agreement of all members of the council."

Theodora’s mouth tightened.

Geoffrey leaned forward. "As it stands, Lord Henshaw lies on his deathbed. Until he dies or rises, neither of which he appears prepared to do with useful haste, the full council cannot be properly assembled. His heir has not yet taken his seat, and I will not convene a butchered council. We either wait until the council is in order, or we wait until the king returns."

For one bright, deeply satisfying instant, Geoffrey saw defeat in Theodora’s eyes. She had expected him to bend beneath the threat of the Church.

"For someone so determined to rule England," Geoffrey added, "one would have thought you might open a law book once in a while."

Theodora’s eyes blazed. Geoffrey picked up his quill and returned to the papers before him. Her Grace remained there for one moment longer.

Then she turned and walked out. She moved through the corridor with rage burning cold and clean beneath her skin.

Lionel had to die before Henry returned and Livia had to be married. The last part, at least, remained simple. If the girl could be forced into a match before Henry returned, then whatever affection Henry had developed would arrive too late to matter. Livia Valenti would vanish beneath another man’s name.

As for Lionel, if Geoffrey insisted on being useless in every official way, there were other methods.

The cells were not guarded by angels. Food entered. Water entered. Poison had a talent for slipping through doors.

Inside, Geoffrey waited until he was certain she had gone far enough. Then he rose quickly. He strode from the chamber.

Geoffrey reached the cells below Whitehall with his temper still hot enough to light the torches. The air there was damp and sour. A gaoler hurried forward, bowed, fumbled with keys, and admitted him into the narrow chamber where Lionel Ashcroft had been placed.

Lionel stood when Geoffrey entered. Alarm crossed his face when he recognised his visitor."My lord...You should not be here."

Geoffrey stepped closer. "Give me the names of soldiers loyal only to you. Now."

Lionel stared at him. "Why?"

"Because I have delayed your execution warrant, and by God, I do not know what Theodora is trying to keep you from saying, but damn it, you will say it before your death if I have to prop you up in the council chamber myself." Geoffrey pointed towards the door. "I need to make certain only men you trust guard this cell."

Lionel smiled. "Very well, my lord."

*****

The doors were opened to Livia and Tabitha that morning. Two guards stood beyond the threshold, stiff-faced. It seemed Theodora had replaced Lionel’s guards with one she could control easily.

Tabitha stepped forward first and received permission, to move freely within the apartments while Livia prepared.

Then the morning began. Tabitha helped Livia bathe and dress. Every small act felt ceremonial. Livia had already made up her mind.

Today, she would either live or die. That much was no longer entirely in her hands. But one thing had fixed itself inside her with certainty: Theodora was going to fail.

"Not those," Livia said when Tabitha reached for a darker ribbon. "No. The blue."

Tabitha looked at her.

Livia’s mouth curved faintly. "Henry likes blue."

"Then blue it is." Tabitha tied the ribbon carefully.

Soon, Livia was dressed. Her hair was braided and pinned, though a few curls were allowed to frame her face.

Breakfast was brought in after that. It sat untouched for several long minutes. She couldn’t eat anything in her chambers so she could sell the drama that was to happen properly.

She and Tabitha barely spoke. There were too many things to say, and all of them stood too close to goodbye.

Tabitha herself was frightened beyond measure, though she tried not to show it. A knock came at the door.

Both women turned. A maid entered. She was one of Theodora’s household.

"Miss Valenti," the maid said. "Her Grace commands your presence in the great withdrawing chamber."

Commands.

Livia almost smiled. Theodora did love a word that sat on a throne.

"I am ready," Livia said.

The maid withdrew to wait outside. Tabitha turned to Livia then, and whatever strength she had been using all morning cracked. She crossed the room and pulled Livia into her arms.

Livia folded into the hug like a child.

"I am so sorry I could not help you," Tabitha whispered.

Livia closed her eyes. "You did help me...You are the closest thing to a mother I have had since being in England."

"You stay strong, do you hear me?" Tabitha said, pulling back and holding Livia’s face between her hands. "Whatever happens, you stay strong. I will do everything I can."

"I wrote a letter to Henry," she said. "In case..."

"Do not say that."

"In case," Livia continued softly. "Give it to him. It is hidden in the middle of the Petrarch book."

Tabitha shook her head at once. "You will give it to him yourself."

Another knock came at the door.

The maid’s voice followed. "Miss Valenti."

Time, inconsiderate bastard that it was, had arrived. Livia and Tabitha looked at each other. They nodded once, a silent agreement, a farewell they both refused to admit was one.

Then Livia turned and walked out. Tabitha remained behind. Livia moved into the corridor with her head held high.

The moment she stepped out, she felt every eye upon her. Servants paused. Guards stiffened. Two court ladies at the far end of the passage stopped whispering as soon as they spotted her.

The news from last night had spread. She had no idea what they were thinking. Were they visualising her as the woman having an affair with the king’s guard or a woman trapped in this royal madness?