2 June, 1362. Magdaline Castle, Islia.
Camilla opened her heavy, scratchy eyes slowly, throwing a forearm across her face to shade herself from the sunlight streaming in. She then extended her other arm to William's side of the bed. It was already empty and cold.
Why did it have to be morning already?
She had endured another night of broken sleep. The baby continuously twisted and prodded inside her even more than Malcolm had, making her back ache. She'd also gotten up three times to stumble to the privy.
At least I don't have to follow the same confinement rules as I did with Malcolm, Camilla told herself. And for that, I'm grateful.
While she'd been confined to her bedchamber for the past fortnight, there was no tapestry blocking out the daylight and no constantly roaring fire making the room stuffy. She was allowed to eat whatever she liked and her ladies visited her daily.
