His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Chapter 139: She Turned Too Quickly

Richard, on the other hand, silently prayed tonight would not be the night everything went to hell.

A stupid prayer really. He stood before her, both hands resting gently on her arms as he tried to steady her.

"Breathe," he said softly.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. Richard’s spine went cold. At the doorway, Henry stopped. He did not enter. He did not turn fully toward them. He merely glanced to the side.

His gaze took in the scene in a single breath. Livia’s back to him. The graceful line of her neck. Richard’s hands on her arms.

The intimacy of it. The protection of it. The possession of it.

Richard looked up. Their eyes met. The years between them stood there too. All the things that had made them brothers before love had turned them into enemies.

Henry’s gaze was cold. Richard’s hands remained on Livia. His face betrayed him, Henry’s eyes narrowed at once, catching the distress there.

Richard slowly shook his head. A small plea.

Not now.

Not tonight.

Not here.

For her sake.

For the sake of whatever remained of their friendship.

For the sake of the woman between them.

Henry stood there, silent, dangerous, wounded. Richard held his breath and prayed the king would understand that tonight was not the night. Henry shot him a wicked smile.

Then continued out of the house. His steps remained measured, royal, controlled. Stephen fell in behind him, Lionel just beyond, both men wearing expressions carefully emptied of thought.

But they had thoughts. God, they had too many. Stephen and Lionel had made sure to delay the valet informing Lord Langford of Richard and Livia’s presence. One look between them had been enough.

The king had to know first. Because neither Stephen nor Lionel knew what was running through the king’s mind. They did not know what he was thinking. They had no idea how he planned to handle the situation. One moment he was broken. The next, smiling.

They chose caution.

Before long, the entire compound emptied of all traces of the king. The carriage rolled away. The horses went with it. The guards vanished from the entrance. The air itself seemed to loosen once the Crown departed.

Richard still stood in the drawing room with Livia. His hand had not left her arm.

A few moments later, Geoffrey’s valet approached the drawing room and bowed. "His lordship will receive you now."

Richard held out his hand. Livia placed hers in his. He clasped it firmly: I have you. Whatever happens, I have you.

They walked together toward the dining room. Livia’s fingers tightened around his, and Richard’s thumb brushed over her knuckles.

The dining room doors opened. Geoffrey Langford looked up from the table.

"Richard!" he boomed.

Richard smiled. "Father."

"If I had known you were here," Geoffrey said, pushing back his chair, "I would have delayed His Highness a bit longer."

"Yes," Richard said smoothly. "A pity. I do enjoy ruining His Majesty’s evening in person."

Geoffrey’s gaze shifted then to Livia. Livia curtsied as soon as she realised she had caught his attention.

"Good evening, my lord," she said.

Richard’s hand remained at the small of her back.

Geoffrey looked at her, then to Richard. "Who is this?"

"Long story, Father."

*****

Princess Madeleine paced back and forth in her room, her thoughts swirling so rapidly she could hardly catch one before the next crashed into it.

Élodie stood near the door.

"Oh my God... oh my God..." Madeleine pressed both hands to her mouth, then dropped them. "Did she see you?"

"I don’t know, Your Highness. She turned too quickly. She screamed before I could finish."

God.

This was not what she had asked for.

"Oh my God." Madeleine turned away, then turned back again. "I told you not to leave any messes!"

"I apologise, Your Highness. I was trying to be careful."

"What you did was make a mess of things."

Élodie lowered her gaze. Madeleine’s breathing came too fast. She pressed a hand to her stomach, forcing herself to think. Bella was alive. And if Bella had seen even a glimpse of Élodie—

No.

Madeleine moved to the vanity, then immediately turned away again. "If she lives, she will speak. Quick, look outside. Are the guards there back?"

"No," Élodie said. "Everyone is locking down the palace. Some of the guards have gone to secure the king. They think an assassin is loose in Whitehall."

The phrase should have relieved her. It meant no one was looking directly at them yet. But if Bella lived—

If Bella remembered, If Bella named her—

"Okay," Madeleine breathed. "Okay..." She looked down at her dress. Her fingers went to the bodice and began to tear at it. Élodie’s eyes widened as Madeleine ripped at the delicate fabric, dragging the neckline loose, pulling the sleeve until the seam gave way.

"Your Highness..."

"Shut up." Her breath came hard now. This was a fucking mess. "We have to take suspicion off us."

Élodie looked toward the door. "How?"

Madeleine moved to her dresser, yanking open a drawer with shaking hands. She searched quickly, blindly, until her fingers found what she wanted. Then she turned and held the knife out.

"What is this for, Your Highness?"

Madeleine’s eyes burned into hers. "Stab me."

"Your Highness!"

"Now!" Madeleine snapped. "We do not have time."

Élodie shook her head once, horror finally breaking through her obedience. "I cannot."

"You can, and you will."

Madeleine stepped closer, lowering her voice. "It has to look as though Bella was not the only one targeted. Otherwise it becomes too obvious. First Thomas, now her? Everyone will begin looking for motive. Everyone will begin asking who benefits."

Élodie swallowed.

Madeleine’s voice trembled. "This way, if she accuses me again, no one will believe her. They will say the attacker came for women close to the king."

"Your Highness..."

Madeleine thrust the blade toward Élodie again. "Do it."

Élodie’s hand closed around the handle.

"Make it believable," Madeleine whispered.

(Brought to you by Mar King 4/4)