Appetite

11 November, 1361. Westerhaven Palace, Islia.

It was a very strange thing to suddenly become obsessed with your own husband, Camilla thought to herself that evening, as she sat by the bedchamber's crackling fire, trying to read and waiting for William to return from a council meeting.

She'd been in love with the man for what felt like a long time. She'd thought him exceptionally, unfairly handsome for an even longer time, even when she hadn't liked him as a person.

Never had she felt quite so ravenous for him, however.

The strange surging feeling had been building inside her for a few days now and it was puzzling her. It hadn't helped that William had been pulled into meetings with court advisors after every dinner for the last several days, only arriving back to their room well after Camilla had fallen asleep. Try as she might, she couldn't fight the exhaustion that pulled her under as soon as her head touched her pillow.