11

Having finished writing, the Queen Mother, without looking, put her pen into the inkwell, running her eyes over what she had written. In one place she reached for her pen and vigorously crossed out and wrote something on top. Then, putting aside her pen, she leaned back in her wide chair. The hand with the pen drooped helplessly.

- Nobody will believe me. Everyone will blame me,” she whispered, staring into space.

"Of course," came an insinuating voice from behind the curtains. You have committed many mistakes and crimes. Something actually, something is attributed to you. One atrocity more, one less - what's the difference?

As soon as she heard the voice, the queen turned sharply in her chair, narrowing her eyes, looking at the newcomer. A young man of graceful and somewhat feminine appearance, with a smooth rosy face and fluff above his lips, approached her with a sly smile, holding a hat with a magnificent magnificent feather in his hand.

- Who you are? the queen asked sha
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