His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

"How flattering." Richard drawled.

"It is an appointment many men would envy."

"Then give it to one of those poor eager fools."

"I chose you."

"I do have to question the timing, my lord," Richard said.

Henry’s eyes lifted slowly. "My lord," Henry drawled, tasting the words. "Is that just what I am now?"

Richard’s jaw flexed.

Henry stepped closer, his gaze fixed on him. "Your lord?"

The room had become what it truly was: two men standing inside the wreckage of a friendship neither of them knew how to bury.

"I was your best friend," Henry said.

Pain, regret, loyalty still breathing under all that anger. Richard had not stopped loving him as a friend.

"You still are my best friend," Richard said.

Henry smirked. It was born from hurt. "How comforting. My best friend hides the woman I love, intends to marry her, and then gallops into my palace to complain about an honour I have graciously placed upon him. Tell me, are these the actions of a so called best friend? I do still wonder what it is you want me to do for you, Duke of Kingsmere?"

Richard inhaled slowly, visibly dragging his temper back by the throat. "I would like my appointment delayed for a year."

"No."

The answer came so fast it almost insulted him more than the refusal itself.

"Your Highness—"

"It is my will."

"Convenient how the realm seems to want exactly what wounded kings desire."

Henry moved so suddenly Richard barely had time to brace. "I have spoken!"

The words thundered through the chamber. Richard stared at him. Then, slowly, he bowed his head.

"So be it," Richard said.

Henry breathed hard, fury still bright in his eyes.

Richard lifted his head again. "But this will not stop me. I will marry her...Even before I leave."

Cold pleasure slid across Henry’s face. Richard fell into the trap within the trap. He smiled wickedly once more, and Richard knew at once he would hate whatever came next.

"Didn’t you hear?" Henry asked softly. "The Archbishop has been informed that the Church is not to bless any marriages until after the royal wedding."

Richard’s eyes snapped up. "You cannot do this."

"I can," Henry said. "I will. I have."

Richard stared at him. Henry had never been like this. The king was intelligent, thought five moves ahead but he was not unkind. This was a part of me no one knew and Richard had sadly been the one to unleash it. The king had a bit of his mother in him afterall. Richard took one step forward. "Then I will make sure she is with child," he said, voice low and vicious, "that is, if she is not already."

Henry moved before thought could catch him. One moment he was standing several paces away; the next he had Richard by the throat, fingers locked at his collar and jaw, driving him back with enough force to make him stumble against the carved edge of a table.

Richard grunted, one hand shooting up to Henry’s wrist. Henry didn’t even look human in that moment.

He looked more like a wounded animal, eyes dark with a rage. "We may have been friends once, Richard," Henry said, voice deadly soft, "but do not forget, I am your king."

Richard’s face strained, but his eyes did not lower.

"I have the power," Henry continued, "to take what I want. Keep what I want."

Richard’s mouth twisted despite the grip at his throat. "Do you?" he managed.

Henry’s fingers tightened.

Richard forced the words out anyway. "Then marry her."

The sentence struck hard. Henry’s hand loosened. Richard dragged in a rough breath. Henry yanked his hand away.

Richard bent slightly, gulping air, one hand at his throat, the other braced against the table. He laughed harshly.

Henry turned from him. His shoulders were rigid. Richard straightened slowly, still breathing hard.

"If you can marry her," Richard said, "if you can stand before God, Parliament, the court, and every crowned head in Christendom and make her your queen, then I will take a step back. But if you only intend to tuck her away in some beautiful chamber, to add her to the growing list of your whores while another woman wears your crown..."

Richard’s voice lowered, turning colder. "Then you will continue to have a rival in me."

"I see you haven’t told her what you did." Henry stepped toward him slowly, no longer needing his hands to make Richard feel the pressure at his throat. "Maybe I should."

Richard’s eyes sharpened.

"Oh, I think it would make for an interesting conversation." Henry’s voice turned pleasant. "Right before your nuptials, perhaps. Diana standing in her bridal gown. You waiting like some noble saviour. And then I tell her that the Duke of Kingsmere betrayed his king, betrayed his friend, betrayed and lied to her."

"I told you," Richard said through clenched teeth, "I did not know it was you."

"No," Henry said. "At first, perhaps not. But eventually you knew." He leaned in slightly. "And you still kept her in the dark."

"That is not how it happened."

"That is exactly how she will hear it. You have had all this time," Henry said, voice lowering, "to make her trust you. To make her fall for you. It is time to even the playing field."

"You will leave her alone."

Henry smiled again. "Will I? She is the only thing in this kingdom I ever wanted."

Richard swallowed.

"I am going to take all the time I need to make her fall for me and choose me."

Richard’s hands curled at his sides.

"And she will choose me. Because I saw it," Henry continued. "In her eyes."

Richard looked away.

"She wants me. She still wants me."

"You are lying..."

"How would you know?"

"No matter, Your Highness," Richard said. "Your will be done," he continued. "You want me away from England, I will not say no."

Henry’s mouth tightened.

How noble.

How obedient.

How thoroughly full of shit.

"But rest assured," Richard said, straightening his coat, "I will be taking my intended with me." He tilted his head slightly. "Or will you be able to stop that too?"

Henry forced himself to smile. "And the estate of Kingsmere?"

Richard’s own smile turned thin. "I have capable hands to act in my place."

"You would drag your bride into a foreign court before she has learned to stand safely in this one?"

Richard’s eyes sharpened. "Better a foreign court beside me than an English palace beside you. Besides, need I remind Your Highness that I do carry some secrets of the Crown as well?" He did not need to explain which secrets. Things Henry had once placed in Richard’s hands because friendship had seemed safest.

Henry felt the old guilt stir beneath the crown. It was a low blow. And still, Henry refused to be bullied.

Richard’s voice remained steady. "I may not have your power, but I will do whatever I can to keep Diana by my side."

Henry’s face emptied of everything human enough to be used against him. "Do whatever you want."

Richard’s brows drew together, as if the lack of explosion unsettled him.

"Just make sure you leave for France as soon as the Lord Chancellor can arrange things."

Richard bowed. Henry watched the Duke of Kingsmere turn and walk out of the presence chamber.

Outside the chamber, Richard found Stephen waiting in the corridor. Richard stopped before him.

Stephen’s gaze flicked over the duke’s throat, where the faint red mark of Henry’s grip was beginning to show. His brows rose by a hair.

Richard exhaled. "Tell Lady Bellamy I will be waiting for her in the courtyard when she is ready to leave."

"Of course, Your Grace."

Richard strode away. Stephen watched him go, then sighed faintly.

Whitehall, he decided, had become far too full of men in love and far too short of men with sense.

*****

Even in pain, Princess Madeleine still had the strength to be angry. She sat propped against embroidered pillows, pale but furious, one hand pressed near her bandaged shoulder, the other clenched so tightly in the sheets that the linen wrinkled beneath her fingers.

"He’s been with her?!" she demanded.

Elodie stood near the foot of the bed, hands folded, eyes lowered. "Yes, Your Highness."

Madeleine screamed. With a violent sweep of her good arm, Madeleine sent everything on the dresser crashing to the floor. "This is witchcraft, Elodie," Madeleine breathed, her chest rising and falling hard. "Plain and simple."

"Your Highness—"

Madeleine leaned forward despite the pain, her face twisting. "The bitch has sunk her claws so deep inside him, he sees nothing but her."

Elodie swallowed. "Your Highness, maybe he does truly care for her." She pressed on. "I mean, they did have a child together, my lady."

Madeleine turned to Elodie then. The fury in her eyes turned calculating. "Yes indeed," Madeleine murmured. "A child."