Livia nodded once more, the word yes forming easily on her lips even as her mind spun with everything that could go wrong.
Tomorrow night loomed large and uncertain. Would she hold him? Would she fail? Would she try too hard, too obviously, and watch him pull away again?
Or would she stop trying altogether, undone by his hands, his voice?
*****
Princess Madeleine, following Sophia's advice, dressed before sunrise and made her way to the king's apartments while most of Whitehall still lingered in that grey hush between night and morning. She had chosen her gown carefully: elegant, soft in color, impossible to call vulgar, but tailored well enough that no man with functioning eyes could mistake the effect. Her hair had been arranged, it took entirely too much effort to achieve. Sophia had insisted this was the better strategy. No threats, no killing.
Madeleine was not entirely convinced beauty had ever been enough for men, but she was willing to try.
