Geoffrey had read it and said several words no Lord Chancellor should say. Her Grace had gone too far.
She had gone far beyond far. The woman had crossed into a territory for which no decent map existed.
He had known Theodora had cruelty in her. Everyone with eyes knew that. Even those without eyes likely sensed the chill when she entered a room. But he had not known she would drag the throne itself to its knees in the process. The recklessness. The arrogance. The astonishing belief that the Crown could be used as her private cudgel and somehow remain unstained.
A queen mother did not order poison against a woman under royal protection and expect the realm to applaud her housekeeping.
If anyone learned that Her Grace had instructed kitchen staff to replace Livia Valenti's herbs with poison, the damage would not remain neatly attached to Theodora. It would climb into Henry's council table.
Did she truly not understand that? Geoffrey's pace quickened.
