She had a strange dream, very strange.
She dreamed of a heavy crown lying atop the waves, floating, drifting until it came to her feet.
She wanted to reach out and grab it, but the crown suddenly started to sink, like a lead weight pulling her eyes and heart downward, all the way into the black seabed.
The seawater seemed to press in from all sides; she couldn't move, almost suffocating with the urge to cry out.
"Grandfather... No, Uncle George, or Uncle William..." she murmured, her words confused and pale.
She reached to touch her forehead, only to find it covered in cold sweat.
Victoria lifted her head; her gaze fell on the silvery clock by the fireplace.
The time shown was two-thirty in the morning.
She frowned, instinctively glancing toward the side of the bed.
Her mother, the Duchess of Kent, usually peered in at this hour to see if she was asleep or at least doze in the armchair.
But tonight...
She was not there.
