Without hesitating, Amara lifted the chalice by its stem. But instead of bringing it to her lips, she turned toward the trembling cupbearer. "A lovely vintage," Amara spoke clearly, her voice cutting through the silent hall. "Tell me, boy, what is your name?" "D-Doran, Your Majesty," the boy stammered, his eyes darting frantically toward Chancellor Vane. "Well, Doran, in the courts of Solis, it is customary for the cupbearer to…
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