Joselin waited in vain. As once a long time ago in the spacious hall of the palaces and now at the fine binding of the lattice. The chapel was empty. Ferdinand did not hurry for a date. Probably, he will not come at all. But she waited anyway. Her outfit was strict and how it should be to a widow, black, but still luxurious. Expensive fabric, efforts of seamstress, jewelry, shiny in black taffeta and black hair, elegant ridges, earrings, hairstyle, even tastefully selected lacy mantle – and all this is just to attract the attention of a young man who would prefer to be a sexless creature.

Sometimes she began to be angry. It is a pity that monks from this order could not be whipped. It is a pity that the father of Ferdinand died. He would not allow the only direct heir to finish like this. In this grave. Here people are buried alive.

Previously, the smell of jasmine, who fled the hedge, calmed her down, but now no longer. To see flowers in a dream is bad. Now she understood it. Recently, she often dreamed of yellow roses, bright and lush, similar to the multilayer sun. And after these dreams, the painful outbreaks of jealousy were coming. It seemed to her that someone settled in the cell of Ferdinand. A certain creature similar to an angel. It was not a dream. She saw her everywhere, it seemed that her sharp claws were about to cut earrings from her ears. In dreams, they often did it. In her recent dreams, worms crawled out of yellow roses. And Ferdinand was anyway.