Life is hard when the majority of servants milling about at any given time do not, in fact, answer to her; in general it means being more independent than she's entirely accustomed to, saving requests 'til they're something she needs instead of something she just wants, delegating to Guenievre what she doesn't know how to navigate herself with a staff under little real obligation to her. In this present moment, it means having the presence of mind to curb herself before she says more than the flat words she finally settles on;

"If you must sit here," she says, leaving the plate to cool slowly beside her, most of it untouched, as she picks up her task again, "then be silent. I'm not taking a break," flattening a bandage with short, sharp gestures, "nor am I here to entertain you."