31 July, 1353. Magdaline Castle, Islia.
Violet and two of her ladies-in-waiting were headed towards the training grounds. She could feel the sun beating down on her, making her start to sweat in her black dress.
This whole summer will have to be spent in dark, drab clothes, she sighed. Why couldn't Johan have been more considerate and waited until autumn was upon them before plunging the court into months of mourning?
His lavish funeral had been two days earlier. A somber procession that had lasted for hours and ended with a mass. Violet felt like she'd smelled enough incense and seen enough black silk and satin to last her for three lifetimes.
She also hadn't failed to notice all the dry eyes in the chapel that day. Apart from his grieving elder brother, who would really be missing Prince Johan? Even the queen had been hard pressed to look the least bit sad.