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Chapter 135. The lores of Lorea

The snow capped mountain that spanned the vista behind the palace emulated her mood.

Moonlight streamed through the window of Simran's room in the north wing. She stared at the main entrance of the Kralj palace as guests climbed up the stairs to attend the ball. 'Twas the night before her wedding to Raul, the crown prince, her cousin. The celebration had dragged on all week. From where she was, she could see all women laughing joyously, as they delicately picked up their expensive gowns and climbed the stairs. They curled their hand warmly against their men's arms affectionately as they cocooned them with their wings on one side.

Simran hated every moment of it. Since morning she had vomited five times with sheer disgust. She would turn nineteen the next day—the legal age to marry in the Kingdom of Wingx—a day Raul has been waiting for ten years.

“You look breathtaking my Princess” said Nyles, breaking her reverie as she fixed the veil that fell to Simran's chin, with a golden comb at
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