This time, Livia did not sit opposite him. She settled beside him, gathering her skirts as she moved close. Henry's hand found hers. His fingers were cold, but his grip closed around her with desperate strength.
Outside, Lionel shouted orders. The escort tightened around the carriage, and the horses began carrying them back towards Whitehall.
"Stay with me," Henry whispered.
"Of course. Of course, I shall."
His head shifted against the padded seat. The pallor of his face had deepened, and a faint sheen of sweat marked his brow. "If I die from this…"
"You are not dying," Livia interrupted. "I mean it," she said, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it. "I do not intend to have your death upon my conscience."
"You are very commanding. You should be queen."
"Be quiet and save your strength."
Henry opened his eyes then. "Listen to me, Livia. If I die from this… you get away from Whitehall and make sure you get under Richard's protection immediately."
