Wearing just petticoat and stockings that went up to her thigh, Madeline felt as if she was barely wearing any clothes on her body because of the fabric thinness of the petticoat. She had never been placed under this kind of situation. For someone who had not been touched, or kissed, or hugged by a man who was a stranger, her face had turned red, and she stared at the ground of the gallery room.
The couch she was sitting on was cushioned, soft, that sank down when she sat down but no matter how comfortable the couch was, she was far from being comfortable where she was half-clothed. The maid didn't ask or speak to her, she did what she was asked by the King and left Madeline alone in the room. Madeline had turned her body while covering her front with her hands by bringing them forward.
If one day the wicked King were going to die, it would be because she would have stabbed him, but then that was only in her imagination.
