The sun rose in Granada, the young King of Austria lay sprawled out on his bed naked next to his newest bride. On his nightstand was a golden chalice with the slightest residue of fortified wine dried and sticking to its gilded center.
After returning to Granada, with the former King of Portugal in tow, Berengar had celebrated the night with the many soldiers who had taken part in the combat operations. He spent the remainder of the night making love to his wife.
However, now he groaned as he slowly reached consciousness, his head was pounding, and he felt as if he were neither living nor dead. His deep sapphire eyes stared at the ceiling, though he could only see its well-carved surface with his left. As he struggled to regain control over his thoughts, a single phrase escaped his lips.
"Fuck my life."
