17

Shivering under her cloak, Lyramel coughed and reluctantly opened her eyes. All around it was dark and quiet, and only in the dim half-arch of the fireplace did small ruby ​​embers shimmer and crackle.

Grimacing in pain, she tried to get up - and could not: her legs numb so that they seemed like strangers. His head was spinning uncomfortably. Lifting her hand, Lyramel touched her hot, damp forehead and frowned.

“Your Majesty…” a deep voice sounded nearby.

Startled, she turned her head and narrowed her eyes narrowly.

“Duke… You scared me.

“I beg your pardon, but you need to be present at the dinner,” Paraman replied indifferently, jerking himself up from the couch. - We'll be called soon.

Is there any way to avoid this?

- Unfortunately no. The crown obliges its wearer to be in good health at least on the day of the coronation. You must be in the public eye today.

“Yes, I think I heard… The priest warned about this,” she drawled uncertainly and bit her lip, remembering both the horror i
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