Celia walked.
Through galleries and halls, she just walked without any destination in mind.
This palace was supposed to be her home, she thought wryly. She was the crown princess, for crying out loud. She would one day be its mistress. There should be no part of it where she shouldn't feel free to roam, nowhere she could go where she wouldn't be welcomed with reverence.
The exact opposite was true. Celia was perpetually out of place and it drained her. The truth was reinforced every time she walked past someone. Everybody, from courier to servant, carefully cast their eyes downwards in respect and bowed to her. No one showed her any warmth.
Everyone was afraid to be friendly. What was the point of being on her good side when she was known to be perpetually on the outs with her husband?
