Chapter 200: I Am Sorry You Suffered
Livia stepped forward. She could not look at him and pretend she felt nothing for his pain. "I..." Her voice faltered, then steadied. "I am sorry for what you have endured. Truly," she added. "I am sorry you suffered. But you made everything worse."
"How could it possibly have become worse than watching you prepare to marry my best friend? How could it be worse than knowing Richard had the life I wanted with you?"
"You may send Richard far away from me," she said. "But one thing remains true. You are my new jailer, Your Majesty. I will not give you rights over my body," she continued. I was not bluffing when I said I would sell it to any man. Every man. Anyone willing to pay. If you mean to make me a whore again, then I will decide the terms myself. I will ruin what you want before I let you claim it."
"Well," he said quietly, "then you leave me no choice."
Livia’s stomach dropped. "No choice for what?"
Henry turned away.
"Your Majesty," she called.
He kept walking saying nothing as he crossed the drawing room and stepped through the doors, leaving her with nothing but the echo of his departure and the certainty that whatever he intended, she would understand it soon enough.
Less than ten seconds after the King left the drawing room, Tabitha came through the doors.
"My lady!" Tabitha rushed forward the moment she entered. "What were you thinking? I cannot leave you and Richard for five seconds!"
Livia stood in the centre of the drawing room, still staring at the doors through which Henry had vanished. Her body had gone cold now that anger had spent itself, leaving only trembling hands. She sniffled once and looked at Tabitha. "I do not know what I was thinking."
Tabitha stopped before her, eyes sweeping over her face, her gown, the disordered bodice. "I am sorry...I tried to come in as soon as I opened the door. But I barely managed one step before His Majesty had his guard stop me."
"He already knew His Grace was here," Tabitha continued.
"It is fine, Tabitha," Livia whispered. "It is not your fault. How is Richard?" she asked.
"He will be fine."
"The Tower—"
"The Tower of London is a royal fortress, not a pit beneath the earth," Tabitha said at once. "Think of it as a very guarded holiday. My lady..." she began again, quieter now. "You cannot allow His Grace to go against the King of England...Right now, what keeps him alive is that some part of His Majesty’s better nature still exists."
"You must protect Richard as fiercely as you wish to protect yourself," Tabitha continued. "And that means letting him go. You may hate it. You may fight it. You may curse every crown in Europe if it pleases you. But what the King wants, he gets. The only thing you can do now is make the best out of your situation."
"Nothing good can come of my situation, Tabitha," Livia said.
Tabitha took her gently by the arm and guided her to the nearest chair. "Sit."
Livia obeyed. Her legs seemed to have simply accepted that standing had become too ambitious a task for the morning.
Tabitha crouched before her, skirts pooling around her knees. "There is nothing you can do about what has already been done."
"Richard is like a son to me," Tabitha said. "I have known him since he was a baby. If you continue to defy the King so openly," she went on, "Richard will pay the price."
"I know." Livia’s voice cracked. "I know that. I am trying to convince His Grace, but he will not listen." She stopped, swallowing hard. "I do not know how to make him leave me."
"Perhaps someday, when the King tires of this obsession, he may let you go. I know," Tabitha said quietly. "It is an ugly hope. But for now, it is the only one close enough to reach. Protect Richard. Protect yourself. Survive the present before trying to win the future."
"Richard is not listening."
"Then make him listen."
"I tried."
"Not very well, my lady." Tabitha finally allowed herself a small, pointed smile. "Being in his lap, one breath away from being...you know, is not exactly helping your argument."
Before Livia could decide whether to bury her face in her hands forever, the drawing-room door opened once more.
Stephen stepped in, looking apologetic. "My apologies. No one was answering the door."
"Stephen..."
Livia rose to her feet at once. The moment she saw his face, she knew whatever he had come to say would not improve her morning.
Stephen stepped farther inside. "My lady, forgive the intrusion."
Tabitha stood slowly. "What has happened?"
"His Majesty has given orders that you are to be moved to Whitehall immediately," he said. "I am to have your apartments prepared by the time you arrive."
Henry had taken her threat and turned it into a command before the dust in the drawing room had even settled.
"What?" Livia breathed. "Where is he?"
Stephen frowned faintly. "I do not know. He left Whitehall already. I thought he was on his way here."
"He was here," Livia said, her voice tightening. "He was just here."
Stephen’s surprise looked genuine. "Then he must have come directly after leaving the palace."
Livia’s eyes narrowed. "He gave you this order before he left Whitehall?"
"Yes, my lady."
Livia turned slowly toward Tabitha. "He made plans already."
Tabitha lifted one shoulder in a small shrug.
"He gave the order before he even came here," Livia continued, her voice rising. "He made arrangements...He knew." Her hands curled at her sides.
Henry had walked into that drawing room already prepared to take from her the last fragile border between herself and his will.
"He had this planned all along," Livia went on. "He knew this was going to happen."
"The King is rather famous for his intelligence," Tabitha added.
