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?

a master of emotional frostbite that winter was warmer

he recalled all the incidents when she had been very unkind. Like on his sixth birthday, when he invited over his friends and the royal chef baked a nice cake. The servants had decorated the ballroom and looped in the royal musicians to perform for them. All he wanted was a

friends out. She had told him 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

play a role in a play. When she was invited up to give a speech, in the presence

her chambers barehanded for six hours "to learn

the massacre of his 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 learning more about leadership

at a girl at a garden party, she had pushed him into the moat and

bid him farewell or wish him well or visit him even once. She never wrote

on the day of his coming of age ball, she had looked over him once and said, "At least you inherited

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

an arrow

great woman." Someone touched his shoulder from

to smile at Her

and I never knew her. 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

Sigrid tapped him

"Mmm." He responded, absentmindedly.

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