THE PATH OF RENUNCIATION

67

Waking shortly before dawn, Lyramel asked the two warriors guarding the tent to fetch several buckets of water. After washing thoroughly, she washed her blood-stained dress herself and kindled a fire to dry it faster, then, putting on a clean shirt and trousers Christian had brought, she went outside.

The sun had barely risen above the horizon, and the stuffiness around was already incredible.

There will be a storm, Liramel thought, looking up at the clear blue sky for a moment.

As she walked, greeting the bowing officers and warriors, most of whom she had never seen in her life, she reached Movron's tent and hesitated. She suddenly became afraid. Fragmentary visions woven by the prince flashed before my eyes, and the threat that her refusal would be a death sentence for the brothers was remembered.

“Your Majesty,” the officer on guard called cautiously.

Glancing at him, Liramel narrowed her eyes in disbelief. The man's face was somehow familiar, but she couldn't immediately