"A pity. You will have to develop a stronger stomach if you intend to survive here." Theodora had drawled.
Madeleine had smiled weakly and said nothing, but inside, she had taken note. The woman was indeed cold.
Only hours ago, Theodora had lost her grandson. Her own blood. The king's son. Yet she could still deliver cutting remarks, and carry on. Madeleine almost admired it.
So far, no one suspected anything. Madeleine stared up at the canopy above her bed and let a small smile touch her lips.
Simple explanations were the easiest ones to swallow. But she had a problem. Sophie. Sophie was her new problem.
The girl had been a disaster since morning. Pale, shaking, spilling water, dropping pins, nearly bursting into tears every time a bell tolled. At one point, Madeleine had asked for a shawl and Sophie had brought her a prayer book. A prayer book. If guilt made a person stupid, Sophie had become a scholar of idiocy.
