3 November, 1348. Thierre Manor, Duchy of Orravalo, Islia.
Her eyes were burning hot with fatigue, yet Violet couldn't fall asleep.
Actually, it wasn't so much that she couldn't, but didn't want to.
Every night, she'd meet with her twin in her dreams and it was slowly eating away at her. The sorrow, the guilt, the fury. The futility. They all merged into a potent brew that tormented Violet and allowed her to find no peace.
Every morning she'd rise from her bed almost staggering with exhaustion.
Lady Thierre kept barking at Violet to rest more and take naps. That it wasn't going to help their cause if Violet showed up before the king and queen with a sickly pale face and eyes ringed by shadows.
"Their Majesties need to see a girl in robust good health! Otherwise they may doubt your ability to carry a healthy child through to birth." Lady Thierre had scolded more than once. "And if they doubt your value, where does that leave all of us?"