The Romantic Trials Of A Transmigrated Empress

Chapter 373: The queen of emotional frostbite.

Roland Maximus was not sure if he knew how to grieve the death of the woman that gave him life. He knew how to fake a smile when people said to him ’I’m sorry, you have my deepest sympathies, it is a pity, sorrows and more perfunctory words that were said to console one who was grieving.

He just didn’t know if he was grieving and he was tired of hearing people tell him how sorry they were. What were they sorry for? Had they been responsible for her death?

For two days, he had been unable to consolidate what he was living and this was the third day and he was numb. He could hear a ringing in his ears, the priest was giving a sermon in the royal chapel and despite his mouth moving he could not hear a thing that was said.

He was looking at the large picture of his mother that was encircled in a wreath, sitting on top of her closed casket.

She was smiling!

Roland could not remember the last time he had seen Queen Maurelia De-Kensington smiling. He was sure that he never saw her laughing. Every time he met her, she had been stern and impatient. Cold and cruel. Unloving--unfeeling.

"We should be thankful for the great things that out late queen did for us and the legacy she has left it behind." The priest said.

Despite not hearing most of the sermon, he heard those words and he almost laughed. Thankful!

What a word! What did he have to be thankful for?

master of emotional

cake. The servants had decorated the ballroom and looped

very coldly, "Your birth was not an achievement, if it was, your father would be here." And then, she proceeded to throw the cake to the ground and push him down as well

she was invited up to give a speech, in the presence of

to stand outside her chambers barehanded for six hours "to learn consequences." He never walked without a pair of gloves since then--not even in

horses at the age of thirteen because she thought he was giving more of his time to things of no consequence like horse riding when he should have been

when he smiled at a girl at a garden party, she had pushed him into the moat and told him to cleanse himself of unnecessary

wish him well or visit him even once. She never wrote once letter to him and he

had looked over him once

in his life before Sigrid gave him Sunny. One dog had died at the hands of Consort Rina. The other, at the hands of his mother. It was a puppy that Rudbeck’s father gave to

had shot and killed it with an arrow and claimed it

was such a great woman." Someone touched his shoulder from

Her grace, the widow

I am not sorry that she is dead and I will not mourn her. No, I will not miss her and I will not remember her. When I have children, I

Sigrid tapped him on

"Mmm." He responded, absentmindedly.