18 August, 1348. Magdaline Castle, Islia.
The sun was hot on her back as Violet stepped towards the archery field, holding her skirt up a little so the hem wouldn't drag across the damp grass.
She hadn't been able to speak with Prince Leo at all the previous day. He'd been summoned by his father to a series of meetings, so she hadn't even been able to see him. It had been disappointing but Violet knew she still had another chance.
For the second morning in a row, Ilse had woken up in too much pain to carry out her duties as a lady-in-waiting. Violet knew her sister would likely be well enough to resume her usual routine in another day or so, though.
So it must be today, she told herself. I have to talk to that man today.
She'd heard it mentioned that Leo and his brothers were taking advantage of the dry weather to practice their arrows. No doubt there would already be several ladies gathered at the archery butts to heap endless empty praise on him.
