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, she just 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 in sleep.
Every morning she'd rise from her bed almost staggering with exhaustion, dark rings under her eyes.
Lady Thierre kept barking at Violet to get more rest and start taking afternoon 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 sunken cheeks.
