10 May, 1359. Magdaline Castle, Islia
Camilla sat in an armchair near her bedchamber window, her knees pressed up against her chest and her eyes staring vacantly. A part of her mind vaguely registered that it was probably a lovely spring morning outside, but most of her thoughts were bleak.
How long had she been hiding in her apartments?
It had been a few days but she wasn't sure quite how many. Day merged into night and back again from behind her tightly shut drapes, so why did it matter?
It was ironic, she thought. This time last year, almost to the day, she'd also been spending most of her waking hours alone and shaking with fear in Magdaline Castle. She'd sat in the bedchamber she'd been allocated when Prince William had first brought her to Islia. She'd thought at the time that it would have been impossible to feel more hopeless.
She had been wrong.
So much had changed in a year. But she was still utterly alone and scared.
