“Who are you to rule over us?” Mrs. Pullman said in a low, callous way. “You’re weak. Powerless. You don’t deserve the gilded palace you live in. What work have you ever done in your whole life? Your luck was to be born. That is all. Any mewling brat can be born. Our queen will soon rule in your place. All will kneel before her, out of dread, out of fear. You’ve had your chance, false empress. Now another comes. You are not worthy to lick the ground at her feet.”
