"The royal favourite does not count. I had one bad night," he said, "one night of disinterest—and now it has become a matter of public concern."
Then Lionel, gathering what remained of his courage, asked: "How may I assist, Your Highness?"
"You wish to assist me?" Henry asked mildly. He gestured vaguely downward. "Would you like to hold it? Examine it? Ensure it is in proper working condition?"
Lionel recoiled instantly, taking a full step back. "Far be it from me, sire," he said quickly, hands raised in surrender, "to disrespect the crown in such a manner."
"Lionel, learn to take a joke," Henry said lightly, already moving toward the door.
The heavy chamber doors were pulled open by waiting attendants, and Henry stepped into the corridor. Lionel followed closely behind.
Servants moved briskly along the passageways carrying trays of food, stacks of documents, and freshly pressed garments.
"What do we have lined up for today?" Henry asked.
Lionel glanced at the small leather-bound schedule he carried. "You have meetings with the council ministers this morning, sire," he began, falling into step beside him. "Matters of taxation, grain supply, and the ongoing disputes between the merchant guilds."
Henry made a quiet sound of acknowledgment.
"The Queen Mother," Lionel continued, "wishes to review the guest list for the prince's baptism with you."
"Why?" Henry asked flatly.
Lionel lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. "I believe she wishes for your approval, sire."
"Tick that off," he said dismissively. "I do not have the time."
Lionel hesitated. The Queen Mother would not be pleased. Still—he made a small note. "As you wish, Your Majesty."
They passed beneath a high archway into a broader hall where tall windows cast pale light across the floors. A pair of guards snapped to attention as the king walked by.
"The Lord Chancellor is also awaiting an audience," Lionel added. "He wishes to discuss the terms of the proposed trade treaty with France."
Henry's jaw tightened slightly. "Of course he does."
France. The same France sending a princess to become his wife. The same France that would soon be tied to England.
Henry exhaled quietly. "Fine. I will see him."
Lionel nodded, making another note. "There is one more thing…" he said.
Henry glanced sideways at him. "That sounds ominous."
"It concerns the girl, sire."
Henry slowed. "The one from the market?" He asked, keeping his voice deliberately neutral.
"Yes, Your Majesty. My inquiries have uncovered… further details."
"What?" Henry asked.
Lionel kept his voice low as they stood in the corridor, mindful of the passing servants and ever-listening ears of the court. "I do not know if this is something Your Majesty would wish to hear," he said carefully, "I have it on good authority that there will be a bidding for her tomorrow night."
Henry frowned. "A bidding?" he repeated. "What is that?"
"It is… an arrangement," he said, "where certain men gather privately to compete for a woman's first time. The highest bidder takes her."
"Really?" he said after a moment. "Shame," he added lightly. "She seems to deserve a better future than that. Come," he said. "Let us begin the day."
And just like that, the matter was folded away—at least outwardly—beneath the mountain of duties waiting for a king.
*****
"Its not such a bad life, Livia." Jane's voice carried softly in the evening air as they sat on the roof above the tavern, their legs stretched out before them.
The noise of the street below drifted upward in softened waves—laughter, shouting, the clatter of wheels against stone.
"It's not a life I want to live," Livia sighed. "I could run away," Livia said after a moment.
"Do you have any money?"
Livia's lips pressed together. "No."
"That's the first problem," Jane said, matter-of-fact as she leaned back on her hands, eyes fixed on the darkening sky.
Livia turned to her, frustration tightening her chest. "I can't just accept it like you did."
"We do what we have to do to survive, love," she said softly. "Besides, the devil you know is better than the angel you don't. You have no idea what you'll find out there."
"It's better to be anywhere than to stay here and be raped."
"Then accept it, Livia," Jane said after a moment. "Because right now, there is nothing you can do to stop it. Fighting it won't make it disappear. if you must live through something, you find a way to make it work for you. The more you earn," Jane continued, "the better your life will be here. Nicholas favours the girls who bring him coin. Better rooms. Better food. Less… trouble."
Livia swallowed hard. As if any of that made it worth it. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to do," she admitted. "What do I do? Do I just lie there?"
Jane gave a small shrug. "Pretty much," she said plainly.
Livia closed her eyes briefly.
"But," Jane added, shifting slightly closer, "if you really want to be unforgettable… you don't just lie there."
Livia opened her eyes again, confused. "What do you mean?"
"You participate," Jane said. "You make them believe they are wanted. Men like to feel powerful, yes—but they like to feel desired even more."
Livia wrapped her arms tighter around herself. "I don't think I can do it," she whispered.
"You can," Jane said quietly. "The question is whether you will. But I can talk to Nicholas for you, tell him you are not ripe yet." Jane offered.
"You know he won't listen," she said. "Once he hears money, that's it. He doesn't think of anything else."
Jane didn't argue. Because it was true. Nicholas Beaumont was many things—a drunk, a brute, but above all, he was greedy.
Livia pulled her knees closer to her chest, her chin resting lightly on them as she stared out over the rooftops. "What kinds of men enter these biddings?" she asked after a moment.
"Pretty much the same kinds of men you see here," she said. "Merchants with too much coin, men with appetites they cannot satisfy at home, the occasional soldier who has decided to spend his pay unwisely." She paused, then added more quietly— "And sometimes… nobles."