30 October, 1354. Westerhaven Palace, Islia.
The daylight streaming into her bedchamber as the heavy drapes were pulled back by the servants, made Violet's eyes water. Despite the discomfort, she squinted against the brightness and smiled. She'd badly missed seeing the sun over the past few weeks.
The dark, gloomy part of her confinement was finally over. She'd still need to remain in her bedchamber for another month until a court priest purified her. But at least now, she could enjoy the feeling of sunshine on her skin and the scent of the crisp air from the open windows.
One of the midwives carefully picked up the sleeping newborn and placed her in Violet's arms. She looked down at her new daughter, trying to work out whose features she'd inherited.
In truth, she'd been hoping this baby would be another boy, a third son she'd intended to name Michael after the greatest of the archangels.
