Theodora's eyes flashed. "Enough."
"No," Madeleine snapped, touching the scratches at her neck and looking at the blood on her fingers. Her pride burned hotter than the sting. "I don't understand why she is still here. I said I want her beheaded." Madeleine yelled once more.
"And what right do you have to pass judgement?!" Theodora raised a brow at her.
Madeleine stood with her hair half-loose, her gown twisted from the struggle, scratches burning across her face and neck. Her eyes flashed. "I am the Princess of France," she said, each word clean and cold. "I am the king's guest. I am his betrothed. Any harm done to me, Your Grace. It is an international incident." She touched the tender skin at her neck, then lowered her hand and looked at the faint mark of blood on her fingers. "I will not let this insult pass."
Theodora's face hardened. "The king will be passing judgement himself!" she snapped back. "You have no such right!"
"Then I guess I better tell the king what I want."
