"Imprisoned even." Henry added.
"I know that you feel betrayed, my lord. You have every right to. But please, don't make any rash decisions."
Rash decisions. Was that what they were calling it now? The ruin in his chest? The fury clawing at his ribs? The image of Richard fucking Livia?
He walked toward Lionel slowly. "If I asked you to kill Richard, Lionel…Would you?"
Lionel swallowed. "My lord…"
"On your feet, Lionel."
Lionel rose slowly, his breathing harder now. This question from Henry's mouth—frightened him. Henry stepped closer.
"Look at me, Lionel."
Lionel did.
"If I command you to," Henry asked again, "would you kill Richard?"
Lionel's throat tightened. There was only one safe answer.
Yes, Your Majesty.
"If it is your will, my lord," Lionel said, the reluctance in his voice clear enough to be treason if Henry chose to hear it that way, "it will be done."
