"I couldn’t help myself," she sobbed. "I didn’t know what to do. I tried to blame someone. Anyone."

Henry drew in a slow breath. He saw her not as the woman who had embarrassed him before half the court, not as the mistress who had caused his mother another headache. He saw the woman who had birthed Thomas. His anger thinned.

Then, before Bella could fold into herself completely, Henry pulled her into his arms.

Her body froze. She had not expected comfort, and the shock of it left her stiff against him, her hands hovering awkwardly at her sides.

"Be calm," Henry murmured. "I’m sorry I wasn’t there to ease your sorrow."

That broke her. Bella started crying again, this time into his shoulder, clutching at him.

"I’m sorry I embarrassed you, my king," she whispered.

"You miss Thomas," he said. "I miss him too. He was with us for only a short time, but he was ours."

Bella nodded against him, still crying. Lionel, standing near the door, kept his eyes lowered, granting them what little privacy a king could ever have.

Henry gently eased Bella back. "I need you to get better, Bella," he said. "Tell me what you need to get better. Do you want to go visit your parents briefly and come back? Do you want somewhere without the eyes of the court on you? Just tell me."

Bella wiped at her face with trembling fingers. "If I could be allowed to spend some time with my mother."

"Of course," Henry said. "Lionel will make sure you see her and send me a message when you need to come back."

"You are not mad at me?" she asked.

Mad? He was mad at half of England. He was mad at his mother. Mad at Beaumont. Mad at the women who had watched Bella fall apart and enjoyed the spectacle. Mad at God, most of all.

"Why would I be?" he asked quietly. "We grieve in different ways."

Bella’s mouth trembled. She bowed. "Thank you, Your Highness."

Henry nodded. Lionel stepped aside as she left. The door closed behind her, and only then did the room seem to exhale.

Lionel turned to him instantly. "Do you want me to keep the princess away? She did demand Lady Bella’s head."

"No. I don’t intend to cower from my decision. The woman lost a child. She should be given some allowances, not crucified for grieving." His jaw tightened. "Let the princess in as soon as she comes."

Lionel bowed. "As you wish."

Henry rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He had returned to Whitehall as a man walking from one fire into another. Somewhere in London, Livia was missing. He looked toward the ceiling. "If Heaven intends to test me further, I would appreciate a written schedule."

A few minutes later, the doors opened. It was not the princess who came in. It was his mother.

"Mother," Henry started, before she could speak. "If you are here to argue with me about not punishing Lady Bella, I beg of you, I am in no mood for it."

"Far be it from me," Theodora said, raising one elegant hand. "I think you made the kindest decision. I merely came to check on you." His mother agreeing with him was rare enough to deserve witnesses, bells, and perhaps a priest to confirm no evil spirit had entered her body.

"I’m fine," he said.

Theodora’s eyes narrowed slightly. She stepped closer, her black skirts whispering over the floor. Mourning suited her too well. Some women looked diminished by grief; Theodora looked sharpened by it. "Henry... I am your mother," she said. "We may have differences in our approach to things—But I can tell when something seems wrong. Last I asked, I was informed you were doing better." Her gaze swept over him. "You do not look better, my king."

Henry exhaled. For a moment, he wished he could tell her. If he had a different mother, he would have.

Instead, he looked away.

"I’ll be—"

The doors opened. A servant entered, bowed deeply, and announced the princess. Theodora’s expression changed at once. The mother vanished. The queen mother returned, straight-backed and watchful.

Henry gave Lionel a short nod. Lionel understood immediately and went to welcome the princess in.

Madeleine entered with grace. The scratches on her face and neck were gone. Her gown was immaculate. Her chin was high. Her eyes moved first to Henry, then briefly to Theodora, and whatever passed between the two women could have frozen wine.

When she was close enough, Madeleine curtsied.

"Your Highness," she said. "Welcome back."

"Thank you, Princess."

"I’m sure you have been informed of the attack on me, Your Majesty," Madeleine said, going straight to the point. She did not even pretend to have come with patience.

Henry sighed inwardly. "Yes, I was," Henry said wearily. "And I sincerely apologise for that."

"Apologise?" she repeated. "No, no, no." Her voice sharpened. "I want to know what her punishment will be."

"There will be no punishment, Princess Madeleine," Henry said.

Theodora’s mouth curved into a satisfied smirk. Not because she cared very much about Lady Bella. Bella could be sent to a convent, a country manor, or the moon for all Theodora cared, so long as the scandal did not stain the Crown too deeply. No, she smiled because Henry had refused to dance to the princess’s tune. And Theodora did love watching another woman discover that she was not as powerful as she imagined.

"Lady Bella attacked me, Your Majesty," she continued, forcing each word to remain polite. "She laid hands on me in front of half the court. She accused me of witchcraft. And you will do nothing about it?"

"She is a grieving, ill woman," Henry replied. "I have allowed her to spend time with her mother until she is well enough to return."

Madeleine stared at him. "You rewarded her?"

"I spared her."

"You spared her after she attacked your future queen?"

"You want me to punish her for the loss of her son?!"

(Brought to you by Mar King 3/3)