His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

"I never needed to hear it to know, my love," he said. "I have always felt it. Even in your hate."

Livia smacked his chest. Henry laughed softly. "I should take it back."

"You cannot." Henry’s smile deepened. "But it is nice to know you have finally realised it." He drew her back against him, wrapping both arms around her and kept staring out at the horizon. "Lord Langford wants to throw you a ball. A formal one. To welcome you into society."

"Oh," she said. "I... I hope it is not too much trouble."

Henry gave a low laugh. "Trust me, linking the future queen to his house is worth all the trouble."

The balcony breeze moved between them, lifting a loose strand of her hair across her cheek. Henry brushed it away with his thumb, he seemed in no hurry to say anything else.

Livia drew in a long breath, then released it. "Well, if it must be done, then it must be done." She leaned against him again, but her mind had already begun running ahead. A ball meant watching eyes, noblewomen measuring her. A ball meant stepping into society as Lady Livia Valenti under Langford sponsorship.

A family member. A future queen. Holy Mary, she needed to sit down.

She glanced at him. "Do we have to wear matching outfits or something?"

Henry’s brows rose. "Matching outfits?"

Livia sighed. "I mean, if Lord Langford is presenting me as part of his house and you are presenting me as your intended, do we have to wear something that shows we are linked?"

"Usually," Henry said, "there would be some visible sign. Something that identifies the lady with the protection or favour being declared."

"And?"

"And I shall give you a royal brooch to fasten to your gown."

"And what will you attach to yours?" she asked. "I mean your attire. Not your dress."

"I am relieved you clarified."

"You are impossible."

"And yet loved."

She gave him a warning look. "Do not become too confident."

"Too late."

Livia ignored that because if she responded to every arrogant thing Henry said, she would never have time to breathe. "So?" she pressed. "What will you wear?"

Henry looked out towards the river. "I do not need to." He knew exactly where the conversation was going. He was planning to take all the time in the world to arrive at the truth, which meant the truth was something she would not like.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because the brooch will be enough."

"For me, yes. So what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You just said we would wear something that identifies us as linked."

"I said one usually does."

"So why will you not wear anything?"

"I would not exactly be wearing anything."

"Henry!"

He laughed, shameless and delighted, and Livia smacked his arm.

"You are dreadful," she said.

"I will not be attending."

Livia’s smile faded. "What? Why not?" she asked.

Henry sighed. He released her gently, then rested his hands on the stone balustrade. "I do not like who people are around me most of the time."

"What do you mean?"

He was silent for a moment. "People become false around the king...They say what they think I want to hear. They laugh when they think they should laugh. They soften every opinion before it reaches me. They drink less. They dance too carefully. They compete for attention. No one is simply themselves when I am there."

Livia moved closer, resting one hand over his on the stone. "But this ball is for me. And people may wonder why you are absent. They may say you are ashamed of me."

His head turned sharply. "Never."

"A jewel cannot dance with me."

He inhaled slowly. "The moment I enter, the ball becomes mine. Not yours. And you will spend your first evening in society as the woman standing beside the king instead of the woman society is meant to meet. I want you to shine, my love. Besides, I feel like I ruin the fun for people at a ball."

"That is because you look too closely," Livia said. "You do not exactly have to concentrate on what others are doing. You just have to be yourself. You think too much about how people behave around you. You should have fun. Do things you ordinarily would not do. There will be music, laughter, dancing, free wine and food."

"I am the king. I can pay for wine."

"I know you can pay for it, but nothing beats free wine and food."

Henry looked at her as she spoke with such earnest conviction that one might have thought she was defending a matter of theology. Free food, apparently, held a sacred place in her understanding of joy. Her eyes were bright, her hands moving slightly as she made her argument, her whole face animated in a way that made him want to agree to anything merely to keep her talking.

Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he looked too closely.

"You go and enjoy yourself," he said. "For me too." Henry reached out and touched her cheek lightly. "Dance. Laugh. Eat all the food you want. Get drunk if you wish. Then come back home," Henry continued, "and tell me all about it."

"I cannot convince you?"

Henry smiled and looked back out over the river. "I have always appreciated the quiet."

"Quiet can become boring."

"Not to me." He looked down at her. "But the only thing I want shattering my quiet is you."

Livia leaned fully against him then, leaving the argument for another day. She was learning, that not every disagreement needed to be won the moment it began.

He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin lightly near her temple. For a while, they said nothing.

Then Henry whispered, "Say it again."

"What?"

"That you love me."

"I thought you did not need to hear it to know."

"I did not think it would feel so satisfying to hear the actual words."

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