Roland was as drunk as a bard in a mead hall after seven rounds and one tragic ballad. When the servants brought him into the bedroom, he was sloshed, staggering and singing to Jesting about beautiful his whitish hair looked.
Jesting was mortified.
He and the servants could not hand over the crown prince soon enough to the crown princess and they could not escape fast enough after their duty was finished.
Sigrid pinched her nose when he belched and a storm's worth of booze breath came from his mouth. She cleaned him with magic and changed his clothes. When she finally got into bed, he curled up to her like a cat seeking warmth.
"Smells good." he muttered.
Sigrid sighed. "Sleep." she patted his back gently and put him to sleep. The tiresome three days were over, it was time to rest again.
She decided to put off the plan to take on Emmah or any of the other mages that were in the empire, sniffing around for the lucky halo. Closing her eyes, she slept off.
****
