He looked around the Whitehall fences, the guarded entryways, the high windows, the narrow passages that threaded the palace together. How did an assassin make it into Whitehall without anyone knowing? How did a stranger move through its corridors, find Lady Bella on a balcony, then reach Princess Madeleine’s chambers and vanish?
No.
"This is not the work of an assassin, Lionel," Henry said as they began walking into the palace.
Lionel’s eyes sharpened. "Your Majesty?"
Henry’s mind was awake now, coldly awake. "Think...An assassin enters Whitehall. Sohow passes the gates, the servants, the guards, the inner halls, and chooses two won close to . Not . Not the Lord Chancellor while I was away." Henry glanced at him. "Convenient targets, would you not say?"
"It could still be ant to destabilise you."
"Yes. That is what we are ant to think."
They entered the corridor.
"My lord," Lionel said carefully, "what are you suggesting?"
Henry stopped walking. The n behind him stopped too. He turned to Lionel slowly. "I am suggesting that if a professional assassin ant to kill two won, they would not leave both breathing."
Lionel’s face tightened.
"Are you telling if you wanted to have a couple of won killed, you wouldn’t?"
"Good point," Lionel said.
Henry looked ahead, his jaw tight, his mind already tearing through the palace in pieces. Gates. Corridors. Servants’ passages. Won’s chambers. Balconies. The little corners no guard bothered with because only maids and ladies used them. "This person is not a professional...Unskilled. Panicked. And he is here among us. Inside Whitehall."
Lionel’s face hardened. "Which is why you cannot be here, my lord."
"A man who can not kill two won cannot kill , Lionel even without you by my side."
Lionel could have wrapped his warning, nailed it to the throne, had the Archbishop read it aloud, and Henry would still have walked straight past it. Bella was fighting for her life. Madeleine had been attacked. His palace had been entered, betrayed from within.
They reached the princess’s door. Guards stood on either side, stiff and pale from a night of fear. They bowed quickly, but Henry was already pushing the door open.
Madeleine was sitting on the bed, her shoulder bound and supported in a sling. Her face was pale, her hair loosened around her temples, her gown replaced by a soft robe. Her maids stood beside her, fussing over pillows, dicine, blankets. The mont Henry entered, they sprang to their feet and curtsied.
"Leave us," Henry said.
Madeleine looked up at him, and the mont her eyes t his, tears filled them. "Your Majesty..."
The words broke then she began to cry. Henry crossed the room and sat at the side of the bed. This was still the woman he was to marry. A princess under his protection. A guest in his palace who had been hard beneath his roof.
He pulled her carefully into his arms. "You’re okay."
Madeleine clung to him with her good arm, her face pressing into his chest. She trembled so convincingly. "It was awful, Your Majesty," she whispered.
"I know."
"I thought I was going to die. I was so afraid."
Henry’s hand moved gently over her hair. "It’s alright," He murmured. "It’s alright. We will find whoever did this."
"I truly hope so," Madeleine said, her voice shaking through the tears, "because I would like to skin them alive myself."
Henry’s brows lifted slightly. There was the Madeleine he knew. Even wounded, frightened, and pale against the pillows, Madeleine still had her cruelty intact. "When you feel up to it, I want you to tell Lionel everything you rember, okay?"
Madeleine nodded quickly. "Of course."
"Every sound. Every shadow. Every movent. Even if it seems useless."
"I understand."
"I need to check on Lady Bella."
Madeleine’s hand tightened slightly in the blanket. "How..." She swallowed. "How is she?"
"I don’t know yet."
"How awful."
"I will co back to you."
"Of course, Your Majesty."
He got to his feet. Madeleine released him slowly, like a woman reluctant to let go of safety. Henry turned and headed out.
The mont he stepped into the corridor, his pace changed. He strode toward Bella’s apartnts with Lionel at his side. Whitehall had beco a hive struck with a stick, every person inside buzzing with fear and whispers.
The door to Bella’s chamber opened to him in a breath. Henry walked in. The room slled of herbs. Maids stood in corners with red-rimd eyes. A physician hovered near the bed, sleeves rolled, face grim.
Everyone bowed as the king entered. Henry barely saw them. His eyes went straight to the bed. Bella lay too still against the pillows, her face drained of colour, her hair loose around her shoulders.
He moved closer to the bed, each step slower than the last. Bella’s hand rested outside the blanket, pale and motionless. He wanted to take it but feared how cold it might feel. Henry inhaled slowly, forcing down the rage down. He did not notice the woman standing by the window, head bowed, tears in her eyes.
"Your Majesty..." the doctor began.
"Tell !" Henry snapped.
The whole room flinched. The physician straightened at once, his face pale, his hands folded before him.
Henry’s gaze remained locked on Bella.
"Your Majesty," the doctor said carefully, "the wound caused a great deal of blood loss. We have slowed it. For now." The physician swallowed. "She is very weak."
"Will she live?" Henry’s eyes flashed. "Do not stand there and offer funeral silence. Speak."
"We are doing everything within our power, my lord."
Near the window, Livia stood frozen. At first, she had only been trying not to cry too loudly. Bella was on the bed, so still and pale that Livia could barely recognise her.
Then the king spoke and Livia’s eyes snapped up.
That voice.
Her breath caught.
No.
No, that was not possible.
She knew that voice. She had heard it in Cheapside. She had heard it on Beaumont’s rooftop. She had heard it in the throes of passion, in whispered promises, in the kind of mories she had forced herself not to touch because they belonged to a life that had almost destroyed her.
(Brought to you by Janelle Fox 3/3)
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