20 March, 1369. Magdaline Castle, Islia.
Celia sat listlessly in the plush velvet window seat in her mother's bedchamber, several soft pillows tucked behind her back. She was wrapped in one of Queen Violet's own lavish robes, stitched with gold thread and trimmed in sable fur.
She'd slept in the queen's bed the night before , which had been a great comfort. Her mother had held her twitching, shaking body for hours and whispered reassurances as Celia had drifted between sleep and tears.
She'd woken up that morning grateful to be in her mother's apartments, where no one would disturb her. There was no risk of her own maids flitting around her or her ladies-in-waiting arriving unannounced. The only Haviettenese allowed to set foot in the queen's quarters was Sabine.
Apart from Elspeth occasionally checking if she needed anything, she'd been left to her own thoughts. Violet had promised to return and see her once a luncheon she was hosting was over.
