"He hasn't eaten," Lionel said after a moment. "Or had anything to drink since we arrived this morning. Stephen is beside himself."
They climbed the stairs to the king's lodging. At the top, outside a heavy wooden door, Stephen had made himself a miserable little post. A folded cloak lay near the wall where he had clearly intended to sleep.
Lionel nodded at Stephen. Stephen quickly got to his feet, smoothing his rumpled coat and opened the door.
"Your Highness," he said softly. "The Duke of Kingsmere is here."
Henry had been sitting on the bed, still dressed, his boots planted on the floor, his hands resting uselessly between his knees. The fire had burned low, and the room was lit more by shadow than flame. He got to his feet.
Richard walked in. All the things Richard had planned to say died at once. All of it vanished when he saw his friend's face.
Henry looked hollow. So Richard crossed the room and pulled him into his arms. Henry held on.
