16 August, 1348. Magdaline Castle, Islia.
The tentative bond that had been budding again between the Thierre girls, like a fragile plant, had been savagely cut down and crushed to dust since that day. The day Violet had discovered Ilse hiding with Prince Leo and had accused her of being nothing more than another one of his strumpets.
Ilse hadn't forgiven or forgotten that comment.
The sister who as a child would always apologise first after a quarrel - even if she'd been in the right - because she hated conflict, now refused to forgive and forget.
Though to be perfectly fair, for Ilse to even consider forgiveness it would've taken Violet to actually apologise and show remorse first.
And that was never, ever going to happen. Violet didn't regret a single thing she'd said that afternoon. She'd simply spoken the truth and Ilse hadn't wanted to hear it. She was only sorry she hadn't been more forceful when trying to knock some sense into her twin's stubborn skull.
