Henry released Livia's hand with visible reluctance and stepped away from the bed. He moved only a few feet.
The physician bent over Livia and began his examination. First, soaking her mouth and brushing it so he could check her breath. He checked her pulse, lifted her eyelids, listened to her breathing, and asked questions she answered in a faint voice.
Stephen stood near the king, his face sharpened by concern. "Shall I fetch Mrs Crowe?"
"No. Let her rest."
Stephen looked at Henry more closely. "You should rest too now, Your Majesty."
Henry nodded faintly.
Rest.
He had tried to sleep earlier. Mistress Crowe's calming tea had coaxed him into perhaps thirty minutes of uneasy darkness, but even that had been crowded. His dreams were full of bodies. His brothers. Thomas. Bella. Every path to the throne seemed lined with the dead, and every corpse had turned its face towards him.
