"My mother does not dress me, Your Grace." Madeleine pointed out.
"No, but I assume she knows who does."
Madeleine inhaled slowly, her patience thinning. "Your Grace—"
"I have spoken, Princess," Theodora cut in, voice flat and final. "That's it."
The princess sighed. Of course. She had seen this coming from the moment Theodora's mouth curved into that smug little smile. In truth, Madeleine had expected nothing less. That was why she had made the first request at all—to give the woman a chance to refuse it, feel powerful, and then, perhaps, have just enough decency left not to say no twice.
"Understood, Your Grace," Madeleine said, lowering her head just a little.
Theodora watched the movement with obvious satisfaction. She looked like a cat that had finally caught the bird. "Good." she said.
Madeleine kept her face soft, obedient, harmless.
Theodora smiled, basking in the victory that she had finally knocked the princess into submission. "Anything else?"
