Chapter 207: I Am Not Blind
Livia looked up.
"Far be it from me to blame you for a habit the King had perfected long before you entered his life. His Majesty has been slipping out of Whitehall for years."
"He has?"
"Oh, yes." Stephen poured himself tea. "Usually in plain clothes. Sometimes with Lionel. It has been a source of great terror for everyone responsible for his safety."
She thought of the day they had first met near Cheapside Market.
"I think the throne crushes him, my lady. And every now and then, he tries to breathe outside its shadow."
"You seem very close with the King."
Stephen smiled warmly. It softened his whole face, that smile. He had a surprisingly kind face when he allowed it to show. "Not to brag...but His Majesty has once called me his friend."
Livia arched a brow.
Stephen’s smile widened a little. "A man must treasure the honours he receives, my lady."
"And are you his friend?"
The question seemed simple, but Stephen treated it with more care than she expected.
"I have always been with the king," Stephen said at last. "Before the crown settled properly on his head. Yes...I do consider him my friend."
"Then advise him."
"To do what?"
"To give up this quest with me."
Stephen’s face lost some of its warmth. Livia folded her hands in her lap.
"It is only going to destroy both of us," Livia said.
Stephen lowered his gaze. "My lady...I could never do that to him. Not because I do not see your suffering," Stephen added quickly. "I do. I am not blind. But I was with him before he met you. I knew who the king was. Lonely...Restless. Brilliant of course. Spoiled, yes, and often impossible. He trusted too little, and carried the crown like an illness he had not yet admitted to having."
"I was with him when he met you," Stephen continued. "I saw who the king could be. He became lighter. He listened. He smiled. For a while, my lady, he remembered he had a heart, and it frightened all of us because we saw the doom in the future." Stephen’s voice softened. "Then I was with him when he lost you. I glimpsed who the king would be without you."
"A better king, perhaps."
"No." Stephen met her eyes. "A colder one." He gave a small, rueful breath. "Left to me, I would set you upon the throne myself and place the crown on your head."
Livia chuckled in response.
"The king loves you obsessively," Stephen said. "He will not give you up," he continued. "He tried, believe me. He tried hard. But he cannot give you up."
"This assassination attempt is why he could not tell me who he was, is it not?" she asked.
Stephen nodded. "That," he admitted, "and... well, he did not want you to treat him like the king. He wanted to be just Henry to you."
The words reached into her chest and found an old room she had tried very hard to lock.
Just Henry.
She remembered that night too clearly. The house on Wood Street. He had made love to her like he was afraid it would be the last.
And then he had asked her to promise.
No matter what happened, remember I am just Henry.
At the time, she had thought it romantic. Now it felt like a warning she had been too foolish to understand.
"I waited for him, you know," she said looking down at her hands. "I searched faces in crowds. I hated myself for hoping whenever a man’s voice sounded even a little like his. I asked His Grace to help look for him."
Richard had not known who Henry was then. Or perhaps he had. That was the trouble with this whole wretched affair. Every memory now came with a shadow behind it. Every kindness had to be examined for hidden knowledge. Every silence felt like a betrayal waiting to be discovered.
"I suppose I should have been looking for the king," Livia said softly, "not the merchant." She drew in a slow breath, but it trembled on the way out. "I love Richard," she whispered. "And yet I am the reason their friendship is ruined."
"I am not being biased here, my lady," Stephen said.
Livia gave him a look that suggested she doubted that very much.
He accepted it with a small bow of his head. "Well... not entirely biased. The king lied to you, yes. I will not dress that up as anything nobler than it was. But he had his reasons. Foolish reasons, perhaps. Frightened reasons. Still, reasons." Stephen continued carefully. "His Majesty would have told you who he was eventually."
"His Grace also lied to you." Stephen lifted a hand gently. "I am not condemning him. I would not dare. The Duke of Kingsmere has done much for you, and I believe he loves you sincerely. But he kept truths from you too. Yet you have not made him suffer as much as His Majesty is suffering."
Livia’s spine stiffened. "I am not angry with Henry because he lied to me...I am angry because he caged me. Because he took me away from a life I wanted simply because his feelings were hurt."
Stephen paused.
Then he nodded. "Point taken. Well...I do not have much experience with love. I have never fallen in love myself. When I do, I shall return and offer sound advice with the confidence of a fool who has learned nothing."
She laughed softly. Stephen’s face warmed. "I do hope I will have your support in Whitehall, Stephen...I feel as though I am not made for such a place."
"No one good is made for Whitehall," he replied. "I will not lie to you. Whitehall will chew you up and spit you out. But my loyalty lies with my king," Stephen continued. "His affections are fixed upon you, and so, in whatever humble way I may offer it, will mine."
