"My lord, she has touched six already." The bookseller said.
"Then six."
"She is moving toward the poetry shelf."
"God preserve my purse," Richard muttered. "Send them to the manor with the bill."
The bookseller's face brightened. "Of course, Your Grace."
"And do not tell her."
"Of course not."
He was about to turn back to Livia when movement outside the shop window caught his eye. One of his men from the manor rode into the marketplace, looking left and right as if searching for someone. He asked a passerby a question, then turned toward another stall. His urgency stood out immediately against the ordinary bustle of market life.
Richard stepped to the doorway and whistled sharply. The rider's head snapped toward him. The man quickly rode over, pulled the horse to a stop, and climbed down.
"Your Grace," he said, breathless from the ride.
"Everything okay?" Richard asked.
"Your Grace… the king is at the manor to see you."
Richard went still. "What?"
