"Why would you do this?" Livia asked.

Anger was no longer enough to hold her upright. It still burned in her, yes, but beneath it was fear for Richard.

His name. His house. His future. Theodora had found the one place Livia was not armoured. The Queen Mother tilted her head, studying her as if Livia’s distress were an interesting embroidery pattern.

"Because the Duke of Kingsmere has been friends with His Highness all his life," Theodora said, "and he stabbed him in the back."

Livia recoiled slightly. "No. Every single time Richard speaks of the king, he speaks with loyalty. With affection. With concern. Even when His Highness chose to send him to France before our wedding, Richard still defends him."

"How touching."

"You would do this to him?" Livia cried. "To someone who loves your son like a brother?"

"How did he not stab him in the back?" Theodora asked. "He knew my Henry had staked his claim on you, and he proceeded to keep you. What would you call that?" Theodora asked.

"I would call it vile that you speak of me as though I am property. Besides the duke did not know, I didn’t tell him" Livia said, forcing the words through the tightness in her throat. "Richard did not know it was the king. I could barely say the truth aloud to myself. He knew there had been someone before him but that’s all. He did not know."

"Oh," Theodora said softly, "he did."

No.

No, Theodora was lying.

She had to be.

It was what women like her did. They found cracks and filled them with poison. They took love and twisted it into betrayal.

"You are lying," Livia said.

"My dear girl," she said, "What would I gain with lies when the truth is absolutely enough to break you."

Livia’s hands trembled, so she pressed them into the folds of her gown. "You are lying!"

"Ask yourself this," Theodora said. "If the king was going to tell anyone he was in love with a harlot, who would it be?" she lifted one brow.

Henry and Richard had been friends since boyhood. Brothers in every way that mattered. If Henry had been drowning in grief, if he had needed someone to speak to, someone who knew him before the crown...

No.

No.

Richard would have told her.

Would he?

Livia’s breath came too quickly. The room blurred at the edges. He would not have built what they have on a lie. "No...No, no, it is not true!" Livia yelled.

"He knew from the very beginning. That is why he came after you."

"No."

"He has always wanted what his king had."

"No."

"And you," Theodora continued, her gaze dragging over Livia with contempt, "were easy prey. Quite easy," Theodora added, "considering what you did for a living."

Livia’s eyes burned so fiercely they might have bled if pain could turn red.

"The truth seems to terribly offend you." Theodora stepped closer. "Why do you think a man like the Duke of Kingsmere would want a woman like you? A whore...A harlot. A stain."

Each word was placed exactly where it would hurt most and some terrible part of Livia listened. Had he known?

Had he always known? Had every kindness and promise been a conquest? Had she been passed between the desire of a king and the vanity of a duke?

No.

Her heart rejected it.

"Do you really think yourself so special that two powerful men would ruin themselves for you? You should accept what you are," Theodora said. "And once the king inevitably tires of you, he will discard you as you should be." Theodora went on.

"Does the king know you are doing this?" Livia asked. She had to ask.

The question tasted bitter. Some part of her already feared the answer. She needed to hear it spoken aloud. She needed to know whether Henry’s love had curdled into this.

Theodora’s smile was slow and merciless. "Oh yes, he does. He gave me direct orders," she continued, "to keep you as his by any means necessary."

For a moment, Livia heard nothing. Only those words.

Keep you as his.

A strange calm settled over her then. Her body stopped knowing how to tremble.

"You truly are a witch," Livia said.

The Queen Mother’s amusement faded by a hair. "In time...you will learn that in Whitehall, I am queen. You will respect me as such," Theodora continued. "I do not expect finesse from a whore, but you could at least attempt to act presentable for the sake of the king."

The insult burned. Theodora had managed to break her in no less than fifteen minutes.

"What do you want from me?" Livia asked.

Theodora smiled again, pleased to be back on the path she had carved. "You will be escorted back to Kingsmere. You will dissolve your engagement with the Duke of Kingsmere. You will do it privately enough that I do not have to waste more effort managing gossip than necessary. And once that is done," she continued, "you will return to London. A place has been prepared for you."

"You will live there," Theodora said. "Quietly. Comfortably, if you are obedient. Whenever the king needs you, you will be summoned."

Summoned like a servant, a mistress, a slave. Henry might be king, but he was not God. And if he wanted to ruin her life, he was going to have to look her in the eye.

"I need to speak with the king."

"That will not happen," Theodora said. "You will only see him when you are needed to satisfy his urges."

Livia knew what it was to want someone and be wanted in return. She knew the warmth of Richard’s hands, the safety of his nearness, the tenderness that could exist between a man and a woman when neither was trying to own the other.

This was not that. This was a king’s convenience. A woman reduced to silence and obedience beneath the pretty lie of royal favour.