His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Chapter 130: Let Us Not Pretend Otherwise

Henry rose from the throne, descending the short steps and moved closer, his gaze fixed on the Lord Chancellor. His court robes shifted around him, dark and richly embroidered. "So...you can decide whom I will marry."

Geoffrey’s mouth tightened. "My lord—"

Henry lifted a hand. Geoffrey fell silent. "You can bring her to England," Henry said, voice sharpening. "You can place her in my palace, parade her before court, remind me every morning that the future of this kingdom apparently rests upon my ability to fuck for the rest of my life a woman I barely know."

The Archbishop cleared his throat faintly. "Your Majesty—"

"Do not," Henry snapped, turning his eyes briefly on him, "test me today."

The old man wisely closed his mouth. Henry turned back to Geoffrey.

"But now," Henry said, his smile returning without warmth, "you leave the very important chore of picking wedding dates to me. That’s where you draw the line? Wedding dates?" freewebnσvel.cѳm

The sarcasm in his voice could not be mistaken.

"My lord, I did nothing without your approval," Geoffrey argued.

"Yes," Henry said, voice low. "You made the decisions and all I had to do was approve them."

Geoffrey’s mouth tightened. "Your Majesty—"

Henry lifted a hand. "Let us not pretend otherwise."

The Archbishop shifted slightly.

"So why don’t you make this decision too?" Henry asked. "Pick the date. Pick the hymns. Pick the flowers. Pick the hour I am to stand before God and bind myself to a woman because England requires it. Then bring it to me, and I will approve it, uhn?" His voice rose. "That is all I am good for, is it not? Approval."

"My lord, that is not fair," Geoffrey said.

Was it fair that Livia didn’t know who he was? Was it fair that Richard had built a life around her? Was it fair that the one woman who lit up his life simply by looking at him was now protected by a name another man had given her?

No.

Nothing was fair.

"Get the hell out of my sight," Henry said.

Geoffrey looked at the king with concern and the understanding that this temper was not truly about wedding dates. He glanced toward Lionel, silently asking what had gotten into the king.

Lionel’s face remained expressionless.

"My apologies, Your Majesty," Geoffrey said at last. He bowed and headed out.

The Archbishop remained.

Henry turned his attention to him. "Why are you still here?"

The Archbishop swallowed. "Your Majesty, we need to take the princess to the church."

Henry’s brows lifted. "Are you asking for my approval?"

The old man wished he had retired five years earlier. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Then you have it," Henry drawled.

The Archbishop bowed at once with relief. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Henry did not answer. The old man took that as a blessing, farewell, dismissal, and divine mercy all in one. He bowed again, gathered his robes, and left the throne room speedily.

The doors closed behind him. Lionel stepped forward.

"My lord..."

Henry’s eyes cut to him. "What is it this time, Lionel?" His mouth twisted. "Can I not breathe without being told not to breathe too loudly?"

"My lord, far be it from me." Lionel inhaled carefully. One had to choose words properly with a wounded king. "But... I understand you are angry." Lionel’s face tightened, but he continued. "My lord, you are all that is good and kind about this country. You are," Lionel insisted. "You are not perfect. God knows, no king is. But you, King Henry do not treat people like this. That is why men follow you beyond duty. That is why even when you frighten us, we trust you."

Henry looked away.

Lionel stepped closer. "Do not let this change you."

Henry smiled sadly. "Good men never get what they want." He looked back at Lionel, eyes dark with grief. "Good men wait. Good men ask. Good men restrain themselves....The violent take," Henry continued quietly. "They take by force, and we all call it victory."

"My lord, please..."

Henry’s hand tightened on the throne. "Maybe I have been good long enough."

That frightened Lionel.

He lowered his voice. "I beg you. Do not speak like that. Take some time away from Whitehall...Just a few days. Hunt. Ride. Breathe."

Henry looked toward the high windows, where daylight spilled in too brightly for such a miserable morning. "You mean run?" Henry asked sadly.

Lionel fell silent. The throne room had emptied of everyone else, yet it still felt crowded with all the things Henry could not say aloud without becoming less king and more man.

"Where will I run to?" Henry asked. "Another palace? Another estate? A hunting lodge where every quiet hour will still have her name in it? How do I outrun how I feel, Lionel?"

Lionel had no answer. "What can I do to help, my lord?" Lionel asked.

Henry’s mouth curved into a wicked smile. "Kill Richard."

The silence that followed was so sharp it seemed to split the room. Lionel’s face changed completely.

Henry had said the words too softly. Too easily. As if some dark door had opened inside him and something ugly had stepped through wearing his voice.

The world had finally broken the king beyond repair.

"Your Highness..." Lionel breathed. He dropped to his knees.

"Get the fuck up, Lionel!"

Lionel’s head remained bowed, even as his heart pounded hard against his ribs. "You said it yourself last night. Love doesn’t ask why."

Henry’s eyes hardened. "You’re on his side now?"

Lionel lifted his head sharply. "On your side. Always on your side. I am on your side," Lionel said again and again. "That is why I am on my knees begging you not to become the sort of king your enemies already whisper you are. I spoke to Richard after I left you," Lionel continued.

"That’s how you got the bloodied knuckle."

Lionel sighed. "Yes, my lord."

"You hit a duke?"

"I wasn’t thinking."

"You could be flogged for it," Henry said.