13 May, 1369. St Ivan's Palace, Havietten.
Celia was woken up by a string of bitter grumbles at her side.
"Stop thrashing around, for fuck's sake." Tobin's voice was rough with sleep but still rang out with annoyance. "If you can't sleep quietly here, then go sleep on a couch. Or on the floor."
Ever the gentleman, Celia thought. "Sorry." she murmured as she sat up and pushed her tangled hair back from her eyes. She'd been dreaming about Sabine's limp body, how her eyes had stared blankly...
The bedchamber was still dark. She was about to lay back down on her pillow and try to sleep some more, when her insides gave a painful lurch. Vomit threatened to rise up her throat.
Celia sat very still and waited for her belly to settle itself. But it didn't.
She looked at Tobin in desperation but he'd already rolled over and was facing away from her. His snoring had started up again.