His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Chapter 219: Stay With Me

This time, Livia did not sit opposite him. She settled beside him, gathering her skirts as she moved close. Henry’s hand found hers. His fingers were cold, but his grip closed around her with desperate strength.

Outside, Lionel shouted orders. The escort tightened around the carriage, and the horses began carrying them back towards Whitehall.

"Stay with me," Henry whispered.

"Of course. Of course, I shall."

His head shifted against the padded seat. The pallor of his face had deepened, and a faint sheen of sweat marked his brow. "If I die from this..."

"You are not dying," Livia interrupted. "I mean it," she said, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it. "I do not intend to have your death upon my conscience."

"You are very commanding. You should be queen."

"Be quiet and save your strength."

Henry opened his eyes then. "Listen to me, Livia. If I die from this... you get away from Whitehall and make sure you get under Richard’s protection immediately."

"You are delirious, Your Majesty," Livia said.

"I may not like it," he murmured, "but aside from me, Richard is the only man with enough power to protect you."

"So that is what I am to you both? A parcel to be passed from one nobleman to another?" She deliberately stretched the words into mock indignation. In truth, she would have discussed the price of turnips or the breeding habits of geese if it kept his eyes open.

The carriage rocked beneath them as it hurried through the streets, guards shouting for carts and pedestrians to clear the way. Every jolt made Henry’s face tighten.

He shifted his head towards her. "But if I survive this...I promise I shall make arrangements for you. Enough protection—whatever is required to ensure you are secure for the rest of your life. We never know when death may come knocking," Henry continued.

"Your Majesty, stop talking nonsense before I begin to fear the poison has reached your brain."

"You have a remarkable carriage side manner."

Livia laughed, but his skin had grown colder beneath her touch, and his breathing seemed more laboured with every passing moment. She looked towards the window again. Whitehall could not be far.

Henry’s thumb moved weakly over her knuckles. "I am sorry," he whispered.

Livia turned back. "For what?"

"For hurting you."

"No," she said quickly. "Apology not accepted. You should save it for when you are well enough to make a proper effort," she added and tightened her grip around his hand. She glanced once more through the carriage window, desperate to see the gates of Whitehall. Livia kept Henry talking for the remainder of the journey, though by the time the carriage passed through Whitehall’s gates, she had exhausted nearly every subject known to civilisation.

Henry answered when he could, sometimes with words, sometimes with little more than a faint sound. Each response reassured her.

When the carriage finally rolled to a halt, Livia opened the door and climbed down first. The courtyard froze.

Guards exchanged horrified looks from seeing an unmarried woman descend before the sovereign.

She raised one hand and motioned to Lionel. "Come here."

Something in her face made him obey without question. Livia stepped back into the carriage as Lionel hurried over and looked inside.

Henry had slumped against the padded corner, his head bowed, his breathing shallow.

"He does not want anyone to know," Livia said quietly. "He wishes to be moved as discreetly as possible."

Lionel glanced towards the palace entrance, already calculating guards, stairways, and the hundred pairs of eyes that made secrecy at Whitehall nearly impossible.

"Clear the courtyard and every passage between here and His Majesty’s apartments," Livia ordered. "Send the servants away. Have the guards close around him so no one can see his condition."

Lionel stared at her like she was mad.

Livia lifted her chin. "Unless you have a better plan."

He did not. "At once, my lady."

"In the meantime," Livia continued, "tell me where I may find the royal physician." She turned to leave, but Henry’s hand reached weakly and caught her wrist.

"Do not go," he whispered.

Livia climbed back onto the step and covered his hand with hers. His skin felt cold. "Your Majesty," she said, forcing steadiness into her voice, "I promise I will return with the physician, and nothing will tear me from your side until I know you are well."

Lionel quickly described the way to the royal physician’s lodgings, speaking in clipped directions while his attention remained fixed on the carriage.

Livia nodded once, then climbed down again. She crossed the courtyard as swiftly as she could without breaking into a run. Running would attract attention. She kept her chin raised, and her fear hidden.

Behind her, Lionel began issuing orders. The guards closed around the carriage, forming a wall. Servants were dismissed. Doors were cleared. Within moments, Henry was lifted from the carriage and carried towards his private apartments, concealed within the protective circle.

*******

Some time later, Lionel stepped out of the king’s bedchamber and found Livia still standing beside the entrance.

She had returned with the physician and waited while the man was admitted. Since then, she had not moved. Her hands were clasped tightly before her, her face pale, her gaze fixed upon the closed door.

Lionel sighed inwardly. He could not permit her to enter. This was not Covent Garden, where Henry could abandon propriety and invite whomever he pleased into his rooms. This was Whitehall.

The king would undoubtedly demand Lionel’s head when he learned Livia had been kept outside. Unfortunately, when the sovereign’s condition was grave, access was restricted to his physicians, senior household officers. Even members of the royal family could be turned away.

Lionel had explained this to Livia.

Twice.

She had listened, nodded, and remained exactly where she was. Lionel looked away from her. The poison in the king’s body had not been entirely purged. He should have remained in bed, yet instead he had spent the day deliberately occupied so no suspicion would fall upon the state of his health.

(Brought to you by Janelle Fox 3/3)