It was not easy. The Queen Mother had a way of speaking that made even compliments feel like fingers closing around the throat.

"Thank you for the compliment, Your Grace."

"Bella," Theodora said, turning her head, "would you excuse us?"

"I should like to stay, Your Grace."

"You will leave."

Bella’s hand found Livia’s again, briefly, urgently.

Livia turned to her at once. "It is all right."

Bella’s eyes flashed. No, they said. No, it is bloody not.

"I will be with you shortly," Livia added, making her voice gentle enough to soothe and firm enough to convince.

Bella looked from Livia to Theodora and back again. Her worry was painfully plain. At last, she curtsied to the Queen Mother. "Your Grace." Bella turned toward the door, her steps stiff with reluctance.

Livia watched her go, wishing she could follow. The room felt colder already. Without Bella beside her, Theodora’s attention seemed heavier. More focused. A hawk no longer distracted by a smaller bird.

Bella had almost reached the door when Theodora spoke again.

"And Bella..."

Bella stopped. Slowly, she turned back.

"You will not bother the king."

Then understanding dawned on Bella. The colour left her face. The Queen Mother knew.

Oh God.

With that familiar, lazy flick of her fingers, Theodora dismissed Bella. Bella’s eyes fixed on Livia with frantic warning.

Livia gave the smallest nod.

Go.

The door closed behind her. Livia stood alone in Theodora’s chamber.

"So," Theodora said, studying her. "From Livia Valenti to Diana Bellamy."

Livia’s blood turned cold. She could not breathe. A buried name, a name that belonged to hunger, fear coming from the mouth of a woman who the world feared. Her eyes locked with Theodora’s.

The king had told his mother. All his talk of love, longing, pain—and he had placed her past in this woman’s hands. He had given Theodora the one blade sharp enough to cut Diana Bellamy away and leave only the girl the world had once tried to ruin.

Livia swallowed the sickness rising in her throat. Theodora smiled.

"Harlot to duchess," she continued.

Livia’s fingers curled at her sides, but she did not lower her head. She would not give this woman the pleasure of watching her break. "Is that what the king called me?"

Theodora tilted her head. "Does it matter what he calls you?"

"Yes."

"Why? Pretty words do not change history. It is the truth, is it not?"

"No," Livia said. "It is not. A woman is not made what men tried to make of her."

Theodora’s smile thinned. "Already delusional because you had a change of name."

"Why am I here, Your Grace?" Livia asked.

"I may not like you or your standing," Theodora said, "but my son cannot seem to function without you."

"That is not my problem," Livia spat.

"Do not interrupt me again, Livia," she said softly. "I bite."

"I can assure you, Your Grace," Livia said, lifting her chin, "I have received deadlier bites."

Theodora’s eyes narrowed a fraction.

"If you expect me to cower in your presence," Livia continued, "you will have to threaten me with something worse than that."

"Threaten you?" Theodora said. "No, no, no." She rose then. "I am not threatening you, harlot...I am about to tell you exactly how things will proceed from here on out."

The insult struck, but Livia did not let it show.

"Please," she said, voice smooth with false courtesy. "Do go on, Your Grace."

"You will break off your engagement with the Duke of Kingsmere."

Livia could not even summon anger. The demand was so absurd, so arrogant, so violently certain of obedience, that her mind simply refused to bow before it. "I do not have court manners, Your Grace...but do I truly have to stand here and listen to this?"

"Did you forget in whose presence you are standing?"

"I did not forget," Livia said. "That is precisely why I am genuinely shocked."

Theodora’s eyes narrowed. Livia held her ground.

"You are shocked?" Theodora asked.

"Yes, Your Grace. I am shocked that a woman of your rank and intelligence would think I would do anything you ask of me when your first demand begins with breaking my engagement."

"Then I should probably start," Theodora said, "by telling you what will inevitably happen if you do not listen and do exactly as I say."

Livia braced herself for the threat. This time, she did not interrupt.

"Good," Theodora murmured. "You can be taught."

Livia’s fingers curled in the folds of her skirt.

"I will make sure every man, woman, and child from here to Kent knows exactly who you are," Theodora said. "You, I gather, may not have any shame left." Theodora turned back to her. "Or perhaps you are simply very good at pretending you do not. Either way, I do not need your shame."

Livia’s heart kicked painfully.

"The duke’s reputation will be tarnished," Theodora continued. "Dragged through the mud. Laughed at in court. Whispered about in every room. The proud Duke of Kingsmere, bewitched by a woman pulled out of filth. How poetic."

Livia swallowed.

Theodora moved closer. "He may keep his lands for a time, perhaps even his title if the king is merciful, but his influence? His standing? His family name? Gone. The Langford name would carry your stain for generations. His allies would distance themselves. His enemies would feast. His tenants would suffer under gossip, his household under shame, and any child you bear him would inherit the story before they inherited a single acre."

The cruelty of it stole Livia’s breath. Richard, who had chosen to claim her publicly. Richard, who had made space for her in his home, his future, his name.

Theodora really did know exactly where to cut. "No church will marry you," she said, then paused.

A brighter, uglier delight entered her eyes.

"Oh no. Wait." She smiled. "I shall wait until you are married."

Livia went cold.

"In France, no?" Theodora continued, pleased with herself now. "How lovely. A scandal on foreign soil. A diplomatic embarrassment. A bride exposed after the vows. I heard they really do not have the patience over there for harlots."