The room tilted. Stephen grabbed the back of the chair and forced himself upright. His legs felt oddly distant.
"Master Stephen," the maid said quickly, stepping forward. "You have to wait for the queen mother."
Stephen turned his head toward her slowly. Even through the fog, his anger found its shape. "No," he said.
"Her Grace gave clear instructions."
"I am sure she did."
"Please sit. You are unwell."
"I am drugged!!!"
The maid flinched. He took one uneven step toward the door. She moved to block him.
"What do you think will happen to you when I tell the king of this?" Stephen demanded. "Do you think the queen mother will protect you?"
"I only did what I was asked to do," the maid said.
