Chapter 329: Not Until Tonight

Livia stared at him. "You knew about this?"

"No," he said. "Not until tonight."

She turned away, then turned back again because another question struck her. "Did you... did you know about... the..." She could not finish.

The words had become impossible. Whatever cruel name the world would give it if it ever escaped Whitehall’s walls.

Lionel understood. "Not until last night, after you left him."

"After I..." Her voice broke. "Oh my God." She pressed a hand to her mouth. She saw it all at once, and the knowledge struck with unbearable force. She had looked at him through hurt and fear. Then she had walked away because she needed space from his emotions to understand her own.

And after she left, he had broken. A sob rose in her throat. She tried to swallow it down and failed.

Sometimes two wounded people could love each other desperately and still cut where the other had no skin left.

"I caused it," she whispered.

Lionel’s brows drew together. "My lady—"

"I did."

"He was already carrying more than one night could bear."

"And I added to it."

Lionel said nothing for a moment.

At last, he said, "Stephen says he has been that way since he took the throne."

Her stomach twisted. Since the crown had been placed on his head with blood beneath it and expectations above it.

"I must commend Stephen. He did a remarkable job keeping it contained." Lionel shrugged faintly. "The man has stood between His Majesty and ruin for years. I am beginning to understand why he is always insufferable."

Her fingers closed over her chest as if she could hold her heart still by force. Henry had battles and demons of his own.

And she had come and piled more on top of it. God help them both, her love seemed to wound him.

Lionel watched her carefully. "If you can forgive me, my lady, why can you not forgive him?"

"I am not mad at him," she said and turned towards the dark window of the cabin, where the river beyond reflected the lanterns in trembling lines. "I do not want to become someone who excuses evil because she loves the man standing near it." "I do not want to wake one morning and realise I have fallen so far that I can hear the king was responsible for the deaths of his own brothers and make myself blind."

"He was not responsible."

"I know," she said quickly. "I know he did not kill them with his own hands." She merely feared what loving him might make of her.

"My lady?" Lionel called gently. "What do you want to do?"

Livia turned to look at him. The river moved behind him. The boat waited beneath her feet. Freedom lay in one direction, offered with gold. Whitehall lay in the other direction, full of poison, a murderous Queen Mother, a wounded king, and enough danger to make any sensible woman choose the boat.

"Take me back to Whitehall," she said.

Lionel’s lips curled in an approving smile. "I had Stephen leave your carriage behind."

Livia walked past him and out of the boat with determined strides. The cold river air struck her face. The Thames murmured beside the wharf, dark and watchful. Ahead, the waiting coach stood with its lanterns dimmed. She lifted her chin.

A queen didn’t run. A queen didn’t cower. A queen didn’t falter.

*****

Henry prepared for bed as though nothing in the world had altered. He stood in his chamber while Stephen attended him, stripped of his outer garments.

It was a remarkable performance. Stephen did not believe a single breath of it.

"Your Majesty," Stephen said carefully, folding the discarded doublet over his arm, "perhaps I should prepare a calming infusion."

Henry glanced at him. Then he chuckled. "I am quite all right, Stephen... Do not fear."

Stephen’s brows lifted a fraction.

"I assure you," Henry continued, "tonight gives me peace. It is what she needed."

Stephen bowed his head, mostly to hide his face.

Peace.

That was what His Majesty had chosen to call throwing his own heart into the world.

"What will you tell the council?" Stephen asked.

Henry moved to the washstand and rinsed his hands. "That she has gone on a journey." He dried his hands. "After a while, they will stop requesting her."

"And Lord Langford?"

Henry turned. "I shall tell him enough." Then he walked towards the bed.

Stephen watched him carefully. His Majesty’s shoulders were set. His mouth was composed. His eyes were empty in a way that made Stephen’s chest tighten.

The chamber doors opened. Both men turned. Livia stepped through. For a moment, no one moved.

She stood in the doorway with the night still clinging to her cloak, her cheeks flushed from the cold, her eyes fixed on one man only.

Stephen’s face split into an extravagant smile. It was so wide, so deeply relieved, and so violently inappropriate.

Henry rose instantly from the bed. Genuine surprise crossed his face. "Livia..."

Her eyes did not leave him. Stephen looked from one to the other. This was, he recognised, a moment requiring privacy. Unfortunately, he had no excuse prepared.

"I shall go see..." he began and tried again. "I shall..." He took one graceful step backwards. Then another. "I shall be somewhere else," he murmured, and made himself scarce.

Henry stared at Livia as though she were a vision produced by exhaustion. "What are you doing back here?" he demanded.

Livia lifted her chin. "I was wrong." "I should not have accused you the way I did...I should have handled the matter better. I admit that."

"It does not matter, Livia."

"It does to me." She stepped farther into the room. "It does to me because I am not leaving." She raised one hand before he could speak. "Look at me and follow my lips." Livia spoke slowly, each word shaped with stubborn, careful force. "I am not leaving. I will become your queen. I will remain insufferable, and you will have to tolerate me because you have no choice."

(Powered by 200 power stones)