Myrcella felt as though countless golden-tailed bees were frantically crashing and buzzing inside her head.
She scrambled up from the cold floor using both hands and feet, crawling and stumbling back to her bed.
She plunged her head straight into that freezing velvet quilt, covering it tightly.
As if this could isolate the truth that made her soul tremble.
It was useless.
That image, like a red-hot branding iron, was ruthlessly branded onto the inside of her eyeballs, into the depths of her mind!
No matter how she curled up, how she trembled, that image burned her with terrifying clarity!
The Queen, who was always high above, holding the glory and dignity of the Lannister higher than life...
The Queen, as proud as the midday sun, radiant and leaving no room for the slightest blasphemy...
She actually...
Knelt in such a humble posture, before...
Myrcella did not dare to think any further.
She felt as though her stomach was being clenched and twisted by an invisible hand, and a wave of intense nausea mixed with last night's dinner rushed straight up to her throat.
She curled up under the quilt, like a fledgling drenched in a torrential storm.
Fear, nausea, confusion...
Finally, all emotions converged into an overwhelming shame.
Why?
Why did she do that?
For herself?
That man... was it Lord Lynn?
It had to be him.
Aside from him, who else in this world could make that golden lioness retract her claws and lower her noble head...
Myrcella's heart twitched in rhythm, hurting so much that she could barely breathe.
This feeling was a thousand times more intense than when she discovered the ambiguity between Lynn and that wildling girl in the North.
Just then.
That strange sound came from next door once more.
This time, it was