"Don't move." Camden's palm slammed on the cloth beside her wrist, the lancet ready in his other hand. He sounded calm. Calm meant control. "Stay still," he ordered. "I want a clean draw." Madeleine let her fingers curl. She let Klara press a linen pad to her skin and twist a ribbon tight above the elbow. The ribbon bit; she kept her face empty. "You're doing this again," she said. "At what hour do you plan to make me weaker for the morning parade?" Camden smiled without humor. "You know the routine. The concubine needs—" "Not my problem," Madeleine cut him off. "She can bleed from her own veins." "You're being clever," he said. "Be clever with the needle." Klara's hand trembled as she tightened the tourniquet. "Madeline—" "Madeleine," Madeleine corrected, soft and sharp. "My name is spelled M-A-D-E-L-E-I-N-E in the marriage contract. You signed it." Camden's eyes hardened. "I signed to make us married. I did not sign to read you chapters of legal hair-splitting while I take what I need." "You did," Madeleine said. "Clause twelve. It requires the wife's consent for any medical extractions not ordered by the Imperial Hospital." Camden's laugh had no warmth. "Clause twelve doesn't stop me from drawing blood in my own bed." "It does when the Emperor's token hasn't been presented and the chamber steward isn't present." She let the words