A king's grief was supposed to be private. It had rules. Colours. Prayers. Processions. Bells. Silences. Even his sorrow belonged to the realm before it belonged to him.
Theodora turned toward Lionel, who had only just entered and stood near the threshold, pale beneath his usual composure. She gave him a sharp signal.
Lionel approached carefully, as one might approach a wounded animal with teeth. "Your Highness," he said softly, "please… let me do my duty. I have the envoy ready to escort you."
"I want to know what happened," Henry said to Lionel.
Lionel bowed his head slightly, careful not to look too much at the crib, careful not to look too long at the king. "And I will give you all the information you need as soon as the Lord Chancellor has it," Lionel said.
Henry deciding to believe him, turned and walked out of the room. Bella's screams followed him.
