His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Chapter 154: Call Me Henry

"Should you be on your feet?" Geoffrey asked.

Bella managed a delicate smile. It was an impressive smile, considering she looked one poor breeze away from fainting. "I only wished to pay my respects to the king."

"Surely," Geoffrey said, frowning, "that could have waited until you were well enough."

Livia’s eyes widened as she glanced at Bella.

Oh.

Oh, the little devil.

Bella had not dragged herself from bed merely to greet Henry. She had dragged herself here so the king would have to see her.

"You witch..." Livia muttered quietly, so only Bella could hear her.

Bella’s smile faded as her strength wavered, and Livia tightened her arm around her waist at once. Bella was too light against her. Too stubborn for a body that clearly wanted nothing more than to collapse into a bed.

Across the chamber, Henry had not moved since rising. His gaze was fixed on them. His hands curled at his sides.

"Leave us!" he thundered. "Everyone," He barked. "Now."

The guards bowed and moved at once. Geoffrey bowed deeply to the king and crossed the chamber toward Livia.

"Shall I keep the carriage for you to return?"

Livia shifted Bella’s weight carefully. "No. If you could send a message to His Grace to have me collected shortly, I would be grateful. I would not wish to inconvenience you."

"Of course," Geoffrey said, gave Lady Bella a kind smile, one that softened his severe face for the briefest moment, then turned and walked out with the guards, leaving only the two women and the king.

Henry crossed the floor in quick strides, his gaze flicking over Bella’s pale face, the tremor in her knees, the way Livia’s arm strained to keep her upright. "Christ, Bella," he muttered. He bent and lifted Bella cleanly from Livia’s arms.

Her hand immediately clutched at her side. Henry held her carefully, one arm beneath her knees, the other bracing her back.

Livia stepped back at once, her arms suddenly empty, not knowing what to do with them so she clasped her fingers together.

Henry carried Bella toward the arrangement of carved chairs at the far end of the throne room. He lowered her onto one of them, arranging her skirts. "When did you become this mad, Bella?" he muttered.

Bella sank against the chair, breathing hard.

"Walking across the palace when you can barely sit upright."

"Go, Your Highness," Bella urged softly.

Henry frowned down at her. "What?"

Bella made a small motion with her head, then flicked her eyes toward Livia, subtle as a cannon.

Henry’s mouth curved into a brief smile before shaking his head. He really didn’t know this woman anymore. He straightened.

Livia’s pulse betrayed her at once. She watched him walk back across the throne room. Henry stopped before her. Livia dropped into a curtsey. "Your Highness..." She glanced past him to Bella, who had sunk farther into the chair, one hand pressed tightly to her side. The girl’s face was pale with pain, her lips bloodless.

This had cost her.

Henry stood there, looking at Livia, abandoned by words. The sight of her had stripped him of rank. He took one step closer, causing Livia to take one backward. "Hello..."

It was, considering the circumstances, a catastrophically stupid thing to say. He knew it the moment it left his mouth.

Hello.

Not I have missed you. Not I have thought of you every damned day since the world tore us apart. Just hello, like they had crossed paths in a garden.

Livia gave only a small bow of her head in acknowledgement. The kind offered by a subject to a sovereign.

It hurt.

"Are you angry with me, Livia?" he asked. He took a step toward her.

She moved back. "Heavens forbid, Your Highness."

"Henry," he said. "Call me Henry. I am still Henry."

Livia’s throat moved as she swallowed. "I cannot."

His jaw tightened. "Livia, please."

"Your Highness—"

"Do not." His voice cracked beneath the command, then softened at once. "Do not call me that. Not you."

"My apologies, Your Highness," Livia said, forcing each word into place. "I cannot."

"Then I command you," he said, voice roughening, "as your king..." He dragged in a breath and finished. "Please call me Henry." He stepped toward her.

Livia stepped back again. His restraint snapped into anger.

"Stop!" he said. He stopped too, as if frightened by his own voice. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them, forcing the command out of his tone with visible effort. "Stop moving."

Livia stood rooted to the ground.

"Do not do me like this," Henry begged.

"I am not doing anything," she said.

"Aren’t you?" Henry asked. "You stand there looking at me as if I am a stranger."

"You are my king."

"God damn the crown! Please, Livia. If you have any mercy left for me, do not hide behind that title."

Once, she would have given him every mercy she possessed. Every softness. Every foolish piece of herself. Once, she would have crossed the space between them without thought and put her hands on him until the world stopped hurting him.

"It was easier when I thought you were missing," he said. "Or dead." "This..." He shook his head. "This is so much harder, Livia. To know you are breathing. To know I could call your name and you would hear me, but I still cannot reach you." His voice dropped. "I am on the verge of losing my mind."

Livia’s fingers tightened in the folds of her skirt but she forced herself to breathe. "What would you have me do?" she asked.

"How can you be so close," he said, "and I cannot hold you? How can I love you this much," he asked, voice ragged, "and still feel pain this much?"

Livia’s eyes snapped to his in shock but she wisely chose not to pursue that particular line of conversation.

"When you look at me now," Henry said quietly, "your eyes carry none of the passion they used to."