His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

"There is no way you could be such a monster..." Her voice cracked. "And now you tell me it is true."

"I knew of my mother’s plans, yes," Henry said. His voice had gone rough, but he was no longer trying to make it gentle. The truth was too ugly for softness now. "I overheard her. I knew something was being arranged. I knew enough to be afraid. What was I supposed to say?" he shouted. "My mother locked me away until her plans were complete."

He dragged one hand through his hair, pacing away. "She locked me in my own chamber...She had her men outside the doors. She told everyone I was unwell. By the time I was free, it was done. Do you understand? It was done."

Livia’s eyes shone with tears. "But then you covered it up. You looked the other way...For the throne."

The accusation hit a place already bruised raw.

"For the throne?" he repeated and laughed. "I never wanted the stupid throne. Not once in my life did I envy the Crown Prince. Not once. Do you think I stood in corridors dreaming of my brothers’ deaths? Do you think I looked at his title, his endless lessons, and thought, Yes, I would like that noose for myself?"

"I was content with my art. With my solitude. I wanted a life away from the constant expectations. I wanted to be left alone. I hate this life," Henry said. "I hate it. I hate the council chamber. I hate the bowing." Henry stepped towards her, desperate now. "You are the only thing that brings sunshine into my life."

"Stop it!" She lifted a hand between them.

He went quiet. She did not understand. This was not the life he had wanted. It had never been the life he had wanted. He had never truly thought about love until she had come along. But the throne had never been his desire. Power had not been a dream. He had been a man who enjoyed solitude. A man who liked his own mind. His own quiet. His own lonely rooms where art could speak better than people.

And now even his mind was no longer safe.

Livia lowered her hand slowly. "You accused me of turning into your mother. But you became your mother a long time ago...Or perhaps you have always been her."

"You cannot say that. You have no right to say that. I am not her."

Livia wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. "Then why did you hide the letter Mrs Crowe sent to the late king?"

Henry’s head snapped up. "What letter?"

"You really want to lie to me again?"

"I am not lying."

"After everything?"

"Livia, what letter?" He stepped towards her. "I know nothing of any letter."

Her face searched his. "Mrs Crowe sent a letter to the late king... A letter about your mother’s plans. Richard says the late king received it before he died. He says you entered the chamber and the letter vanished."

He remembered entering that room. He remembered the terror. "I did not see any letter,"

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Yes," he said, the word breaking out of him. "God help me, yes. I expect the woman who says she loves me to know exactly when I am lying."

Her eyes filled again. At last, she drew in a shaking breath. "My point remains...You helped your mother bury a terrible sin. It makes you no better than her."

Henry sucked in a breath. "What does this mean for us?" he asked. "You cannot marry me anymore?"

Livia looked away. "I am trapped, Your Majesty... I already said yes. Would I be able to show my face in England if I broke marriage plans with the king?"

Henry’s jaw tightened. "Do you want me to release you?"

She looked back at him. "Would you want to stay married to a woman who looks at you with judging eyes?"

"It would not be the first time, would it? I survived it once. I will survive it again."

"It is not my forgiveness you should seek," she said. "It is the forgiveness of the souls lost. The mothers who wept. England."

Henry drew in a slow breath. "You took Richard’s words so literally that you call me a monster."

"If all of it was not true," Livia said, "why did you not tell me when I asked?"

Henry closed his eyes. "Because I am ashamed,"

"Shame?" Livia gave a small, broken laugh. "Shame? I would like to go to my room now, Your Majesty."

"Livia, you cannot keep running whenever things get hard."

"Things have always been hard," she said. "Not once have I ever run."

"I meant from me," Henry said quietly. "What kind of life would we have," he asked, "if every time things become uncomfortable between us, your first instinct is to push me away?"

"Because I need time to deal with how I feel," she said, "so it will not be clouded by yours."

Henry said nothing. That was painfully fair. She stepped towards him. Slowly, she placed her hand on his chest.

"I know you love me," she said. "I do not doubt that." Her palm rested over his heart. "I love you too...I have learned not to doubt it."

Henry lifted his hands and held her wrist. he did not want to let her go this way. He wanted to say the right thing, whatever the right thing was, and make the horror of the last hour loosen its claws from her heart.

Livia looked at his hands around her wrist. Then she looked up at him. "But that does not mean you do not frighten me."

The hope died where it stood. Livia pulled her hand away from his. Henry let her. He had no choice.

Livia turned and picked up her robe. She wrapped it around herself.

She curtsied.

Then she left the room. Henry remained where he was, staring blankly at the space she had occupied.

What did she expect him to do? What could he have done?

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