9 January, 1370. St Ivan's Palace, Havietten.
Celia nodded absently as yet another nobleman whose name she'd missed, bowed over Gabriel's cradle and continued spouting flowery praise. She was desperate for a nap but she couldn't go to sleep until the man left.
She'd always believed confinement meant a new mother had the days after giving birth to rest and heal. It was supposed to be a time of quiet and privacy. That's how it had been in Islia, at least.
It turned out such rules didn't apply in Havietten. Not when you gave birth to a future king, at least.
Instead, every noble family was expected to visit her rooms and pay their respects to the prince, as well as present him with a generous gift. From the most powerful duke to the most modest member of the gentry, they were all expected to gaze upon the new heir. For the past several days, Celia's bedchamber had been a constant parade of courtiers traipsing in and out at all hours of the day.