"Well," she said softly, "I shall be Queen of England in less than two weeks, Your Grace. Let us see who wins this war when the crown is placed upon my head."
"That is what you still do not understand," Theodora said. "It no longer matters who wins." She leaned forward. "The King will never be entirely yours. You may have his hand at the altar. You may have his name, his kingdom kneeling before you. You will not have his heirs because he will not get it up with you. And his heart?" She shook her head. "No."
"He loves another woman," Theodora continued. "A woman born far beneath you. A woman raised among sin. A woman who knows how to please a man in ways a royal nursery could never teach you. Let us see you defeat that."
Madeleine's face went pale beneath her fury.
Theodora gave a dismissive glance toward the door. "Move along, Princess. I do not have all morning to exchange threats with you."
