21 March, 1369. Magdaline Castle, Islia
Celia was restless.
It was only her second day hiding away from everyone in her mother's apartments and she was already starting to chafe at the restrictions.
It was strange because it's not like she had a great yearning to face the gossips and courtiers again.
It was more that she was desperate to escape the sad eyes and hushed voices surrounding her. Her parents, the Islian maids. She hated being an object of pity. Whenever someone looked at her that way, it made her want to burst into tears all over again.
The truly awful fact was that her grief was less for her actual lost child and more for herself, for all that she'd be forced to endure to conceive again.
Yes, she was a monster. Less than two years of marriage had turned her into a terrible person who cared for her own neck more than her baby's.
