6 December, 1354. Westerhaven Palace, Islia
The moment she saw her husband storm into their presence chamber that morning, face dark with temper, Violet knew.
The dam had finally cracked, the torrent was finally upon them. She took a deep breath.
Her ladies-in-waiting, who were embroidering quietly, all looked at each other nervously. Leo's explosive anger was well known.
He glanced at them and then jerked his head in the door's direction. "All of you. Out now."
The ladies scattered and fled for the doors in a flurry of bows and rustling skirts. Violet wished she could join them.
"How much do you know about the fucking disaster your sister has gotten herself involved in?" Leo snarled as soon as the last lady had left the room.
