Lionel pushed Stephen's door open that night and stepped inside. "I am here now… "What?"
Stephen sat on the edge of his bed, his hands clasped before him. "His Majesty is unwell,"
"We just arrived at Whitehall together. He seemed well enough."
"He is not."
"Speak plainly," Lionel said.
Stephen looked up. "His mind is not well. It has not been for a long time. Until recently, only the physician and I knew the full extent of it."
"You kept a secret?"
Stephen looked offended. "I assure you, I am not a gossipmonger."
"Forgive me. Your reputation for knowing everyone's business confused me."
"That is observation, not gossip."
"Of course." Lionel's face sobered. "Go on."
Stephen stood slowly. "His Majesty suffers episodes. Strong emotion can overwhelm him. The physician has been using calming draughts, sometimes opium vapours, to steady him."
Lionel's jaw tightened. "And the king knows?"
"Now."
"That must have gone well." Lionel exhaled. "Does Lady Livia know?"
