"Ah, yes," she drawls. "Because the trees will be highly offended by my impropriety - it will spread like wildfire, I imagine."

Her back straightens, accent changing from its lazy murmur to as haughty as she can manage. (Which, unsurprisingly, is pretty damn stuck-up. She is still herself, after all.)

"Did you hear? That future Queen of Stormhold - my what a brazen young thing! Unfit for the throne, I'd say!"