Between Fear and Joy

18 February, 1360. Westerhaven Palace, Islia

Camilla blinked her eyes sleepily, tempted to just sink back into the oblivion of sleep. She stretched her arm and patted the other side of the bed, only to find it cold and empty.

William had gotten into the habit of rising before her lately. The winter cold hadn't made Camilla's intentions of getting up at dawn especially easy, though. Neither had the exhaustion that had recently started to plague her days.

She sat up in bed and as soon as she did, a wave of nausea churned through her. Camilla winced, pressing the back of her hand to her lips until it slowly, slowly started to fade. Breathing deeply, she willed herself to wait out the queasiness.

The only good thing about William rising from bed so much earlier than her these days was that he was still completely oblivious to her struggles every morning for the last few weeks.