The maid had finally arrived from France. Theodora hissed slightly. This was exactly why the princess needed to be taken down several notches.

Going over her head. Asking the king for a French maid after Theodora had clearly stated that it was not happening. Smiling sweetly while sliding a knife beneath the table. Who the hell did Madeleine think she was?

A princess of France, yes but not yet Queen of England. That distinction mattered. The doors opened, and Madeleine strolled in. Beside her walked the new maid.

The girl was young, perhaps twenty or a little older, with olive skin, dark glossy hair braided neatly beneath a small linen coif. She wore a plain but well-made gown of deep blue wool, travel-creased but clean, with a narrow white collar and cuffs. Her hands were folded properly before her.

Theodora disliked her immediately. "I didn’t send for you, Princess."

Madeleine curtsied. "I thought it best that I be here with her. Her English is not very fluent."

"Convenient."

"My apologies." Madeleine’s smile did not move. "But I guess she was the best my mother could find on such short notice."

Theodora’s eyes narrowed. "What is her name?"

Madeleine turned slightly. "Élodie."

Theodora rose from her chair and stepped closer, circling the girl slowly. Élodie kept her head lowered. "Then pass the following instructions to her," Theodora said, turning her gaze back to Madeleine. "She is not to wander Whitehall without permission. She is not to speak to members of the king’s household unless spoken to first. She is not to carry letters out of the palace without inspection. She is not to enter council passages, private galleries, or any chamber belonging to His Majesty unless expressly summoned."

Madeleine’s smile tightened. "Of course."

"And if I hear so much as a whisper that she is being used to gather gossip, influence servants, or smuggle French messages through my son’s palace..." Theodora stepped closer. "Another of your maids will be hanged, and this time by me."

Madeleine frowned but gave no response. Theodora watched her carefully, noting the tiny tightening around her mouth, the slight lift of her chin, the way pride flickered behind her eyes. The princess was angry.

Theodora turned her eyes to the maid. "She will be in charge of dressing you and your daily personal hygiene and beauty routines. Your baths, your hair, your oils, your powders, your gowns, your ribbons, your perfumes, and whatever French nonsense you require."

Madeleine’s brows twitched.

"That is where her job ends. The rest is up to your English maid. Accompanying you, carrying notes, and moving around the palace on errands is not this one’s job."

Élodie’s face remained perfectly blank.

"Are we clear?" Theodora asked.

Madeleine’s lips tightened. "Yes, Your Grace."

"Good...Oh," Theodora added, as if the thought had only just occurred to her, "and next time you go over my head to the king, I will make life in this palace unbearable for you."

Madeleine’s gaze snapped to hers.

"Do not look shocked. You are not a lamb, and I am not a shepherd fooled by wool. You wanted something from me. I refused it. So you went to my son with sad eyes and and he, being kind, did what you wanted."

"That wasn’t my intention, Your Grace," Madeleine said carefully. "I merely expressed my loneliness to the king, and he took the initiative."

Theodora laughed softly. "I have the final say in Whitehall," Theodora continued. "If you dare turn my son against me one more time, you will beg to be shipped back to France."

Madeleine lowered her gaze. "I would never seek to turn His Majesty against his own mother."

"You think you are smart but you are not. Do not test me, Madeleine. It never ends well for those who do."

"Your Grace," Madeleine said, her voice calm enough to be mistaken for respect if one were deaf to insult, "do you not think this animosity between us is uncalled for? We should be in alignment. I am someday going to be queen. Do you really want to be on the wrong side of the woman who will soon be your sovereign?"

The room dropped into a silence so sharp even Élodie seemed to stop breathing.

Madeleine gave a small, careful smile. "And I do not mean any disrespect by that."

"Get out. Get out right now!"

The little bitch took her time curtsying, lowering herself with perfect grace, perfect obedience, and perfect insolence.

Then she rose, turned, and walked out with Élodie following closely behind her. Oh, she so loved to have the last word.

Theodora remained standing until the doors closed. The nerve of the girl. Someday going to be queen. Soon to be sovereign. As if the crown were already warming itself for her head. As if Theodora should start bowing now and save herself the trouble later.

If Henry’s father had not gone and died the night before she was to be crowned queen, would Madeleine even have the guts to speak in front of her? Would that girl have dared lift her chin and remind Theodora of what she had nearly been?

The insolence! Theodora turned sharply, her skirts snapping around her legs. Madeleine had to be checked. The girl was already growing too bold, already testing the walls, already imagining Whitehall rearranged beneath her feet.

No. If Madeleine thought being Henry’s future wife made her untouchable, then Theodora needed something more.

She needed Henry’s weakness. She needed the mystery girl and she needed her fast. Theodora crossed to the wall and pulled hard on the bell.

Within moments, her maid was summoned.

The door opened and the girl walked in, dipping into a curtsy. "Your Grace..."

"Go to the royal physician," Theodora ordered. "Tell him I need a mixture of henbane and mandrake, and I need it before tonight."

"Yes, Your Grace." She curtsied quickly and hurried out.

Theodora began to pace. The physician knew better than to deny her. Everyone in Whitehall knew better than to deny her unless they had already made peace with God.

(100 golden tickets. Whooooo!!!!)