The following morning, Oriana stirred from sleep, her head weighed down as if burdened by a heavy stone. Blinking open her eyes, she found herself greeted by the familiar sight of her chamber's ceiling.
"Am I back from the tavern?" she mumbled to herself, her voice hoarse with remnants of the night before.
Casting a glance around the room, she noticed its emptiness. The drawn curtains shielded the room from the sunlight, yet thin beams of light filtered through, indicating a late morning.
With a concerted effort, Oriana shifted and sat up in bed, a symphony of groans escaping her throat. Not only her head but her entire body felt leaden, resistant to movement.
Pressing her palms against her temples, Oriana retraced the events of the previous night. Seren's face immediately came to mind.
'Her Majesty, she drank a lot as well. I hope she is fine and King Drayce is not angry at us.'
