Her mouth fell open. "Is everyone around me intent on behaving like children today?" Livia demanded.
Henry's smirk was shameless. "You began it."
"I did not mean it like that."
"I know. I took the chance. Come," Henry said, laughter still in his voice. "Give him a proper name."
Livia looked back at the gelding. His soft nose brushed her sleeve, impatient with human foolishness. She placed both hands gently along his face and leaned her forehead against him. She closed her eyes and the word came from someplace old inside her. "Libertà," she whispered.
"Fitting," he said quietly. "Very fitting."
Livia kept her forehead against the horse a moment longer, breathing him in. When she finally turned back, Henry was watching her with the same look he had worn on the river, as though her happiness both healed and wounded him.
"I had something else I wanted to ask you," he said.
"What?"
"I leave for France by morning," Henry said. "Would you stay with me tonight?"
