Chapter 195: I Am Finished
Livia allowed herself to choose. At first, she selected only one book, then another, cautious even in pleasure. But the longer she moved through the shelves, the harder restraint became. A volume of Petrarch. A French grammar. A book of Italian verse. A collection of histories.
By the time she finished, a pile waited on the table. Left to her own greed, she might have chosen more.
She returned to Henry. He had not moved. Livia lowered herself to her knees beside him. The robe had slipped slightly from his shoulder, revealing warm skin and the slow rise and fall of his breathing. She remembered sleeping beside him once, the softness after heat. She pushed the memory away.
"Your Majesty," she whispered.
Henry stirred but did not wake.
She hesitated, then placed a hand on his shoulder. "Your Majesty?"
His eyes opened slowly. For a breath, he seemed not to understand where he was. Then his gaze found her face, and everything in him softened so openly that Livia’s hand nearly withdrew.
"I am finished, Your Majesty," she said.
Henry lay there, gazing up at her. How splendid it would be, he thought, to wake every morning to her face.
A small smile touched his mouth as he pushed himself upright. "You got the books?"
"Yes," Livia said. "My apologies for taking so long."
"I got to spend time with you," he said softly. "It was worth it."
Livia’s mouth tightened. She bit her lip and looked away. He remembered she did that when words crowded her throat and she was fighting not to release them.
"If you wish to say something, Livia," he said, "say it."
"I will not soften, Your Majesty. You have taken too much from me for me to bat my eyelashes at you and pretend everything is well. You gave permission for me to be cut down. For my life to be pulled apart because you wanted me close and did not care what had to be destroyed to make it happen."
The blow landed. Henry looked at her, bare-chested beneath the dimming candlelight, he had no immediate answer. He could not command truth to sound less damning.
Livia drew a breath. "I had a great life ahead of me."
"With Richard?" he asked. "Or do you call it a great life because he offered you marriage?"
Her eyes flashed. "Whatever it was...it was mine. I had a future to look forward to. A home. A husband who chose me without shame."
He reached for her. His hands rose to her face, cradling it, guiding her gaze back to his. Her skin was warm beneath his palms, and the intimacy of it struck through him. "If I married you," he asked, "would it change anything?"
Livia stared up at him, stunned by the madness that had just left his mouth. She truly wondered whether he had fully woken. Perhaps sleep still clung to him. Perhaps the cold library floor had softened his senses into foolishness. "You are still trapped in sleep, Your Majesty...You should return to your chambers."
"Will you stay with me?" he asked. "Wake beside me?"
Once, those words might have undone her. Once, she did imagine it. But that dream belonged to a girl, she was a woman now.
Livia drew back slightly. "Is that a royal command?"
"No." Henry exhaled, the sound rough with defeat. "No, Livia."
"Then I should like to spend the rest of the night with Lady Bella."
He simply nodded, accepting the boundary cost him but he meant to do it anyway. "Of course...I will escort you to her chambers." He rose to his feet, gathering himself into the shape of a king again with visible effort. Then he picked up his robe and draped it carefully around her shoulders once more.
She pulled the robe closed and turned toward the door. Henry snuffed out one candle, ready to lead her out, when his gaze caught on the librarian’s desk.
He stopped. The desk, which had been empty before, now carried a small mountain of books. Books stood stacked in uneven towers, spread across the surface, threatening to slide into one another if anyone breathed too hard. "My goodness."
Slowly, Henry turned back to her, shock bright in his eyes.
"All of that?!"
"I..." Livia looked from Henry to the librarian’s desk, then back again. "You said..."
"I know what I said."
"You said whichever ones I wanted."
"I did."
"And I wanted those."
Henry’s mouth twitched despite himself. "Clearly."
Livia’s cheeks warmed. The sight of all the books gathered together now looked far worse than it had while she was choosing them. At the time, each volume had seemed necessary. "I did not realise it was so many," she said, mortified.
Henry glanced back at the desk. "Livia, there are enough books there to educate a small monastery."
Her eyes widened in horror. "Is it too much work?"
The question came so earnestly that his amusement softened. She looked genuinely guilty, like she had committed a crime against the keeper of the library by wanting too much knowledge.
"Some may be replaced easily enough," Henry said. "The common printed works can be purchased again. But a few of those are rare. The keeper will have to arrange fair copies."
"Oh my God," she whispered. She hurried toward the desk and reached for the nearest stack. "I shall put them back. I do not need all of them. I was only being foolish."
"You were not being foolish." Henry caught her wrist, stopping her before the stack could topple. "It is fine...He will have assistance."
She stood much too close now. Her hand had landed against his bare chest. Neither of them moved.
The warmth of her palm burned through him with force. His skin tightened beneath her touch, and a shiver passed through him. Her fingers flexed once, she meant to pull back, but his grip tightened. The simple contact felt dangerous.
Henry’s breathing changed.
