16 August, 1371. St Ivan's Palace, Havietten
A muffled groan came from the direction of her bed and made Celia look over. Tobin was still sprawled on top on her sheets, slowly moving his head side to side.
He started to snore again, so she went back to watching the rising sun from the window seat.
The peaceful silence was soon interrupted by another pained groan.
"Uggghhh…what the fuck…? Where am I?" Tobin lifted his head slightly and bellowed, "Wife! Wife!"
"There's no need to yell like you're ordering the army on a march. I'm right here." she shushed him while tightening the belt of her robe.
"Why am I here? What the fuck happened to me? My head feels like it's going to split fucking open!"
"Well, you'd already had plenty to drink before you showed up here last night." Celia went back to looking out the orange sky. "So don't go blaming me for the state of you. Ask whichever of your friends you were with."