Her smile fades slowly. "Of course. " She ducks her head and slips past him.

'My prince' has become something of a term of affection (and something possessive, too), but she hears nothing but polite deferral in 'my lady.'

She doesn't wait for him, like she ordinarily does so that she can fall into step beside him, give him whatever information that he needs.

She just keeps going down the next flight of stairs, and out through the door at the bottom.