Eyes Like The Ocean | A Culled Crown Novella

Chapter 17

Oredison Palace, Gazda.

She wept for three day—three long, dark days in which she did not eat or drink. Malcolm did not try to enter their rooms and, under her orders, the guards turned away all others. The first time someone knocked on her door, someone from the Synod come to ask why she had not attended a scheduled state luncheon, she threated to have him—and anyone else who disturbed her—beheaded.

In a way, Viera was giving them what they wanted.

Malcolm had already convinced everyone that she was evil and unstable, now she merely played the role he'd so lovingly assigned. She yelled and threatened and demanded. And for the first time in weeks, people listened when she spoke.

On the fourth day, when she had the locks changed on the royal suite to keep the king away, no one said a word. It was all—"Yes, Your Highness" and "Of course, Your Majesty."

***

Five days after Leighton had been killed, she had her father publicly hanged for the death of her mother. It was the first time the people of Erydia had seen their queen since her crowning—and Viera gave them a show. She wore the finest dress she owned and made sure the crown was polished and gleaming in the midday sun.

She had wanted to have father burned alive—but the Synod had argued against that. They were still in the early infancy of her reign and it might send the wrong message. Viera didn't know how painfully killing her wretched excuse of a father could possibly send a wrong message, but she had decided on a hanging instead. Afterward, his body was offered to her older sisters. And while they hadn't wanted to wittness executed, they also had no desire to properly bury or mourn the man.

Viera's father had spent most of her life boasting about how he would one day have the honor of being buried alongside kings and queens. He had loved the fact that he would be able to share in the glory of the royal cemetery. And while it was customary for the direct family of the current queen to be placed within royal plots, she wouldn't give her father the satisfaction, even in death. She sent his remains off to be buried in a mass grave somewhere in Varos.

Days later, she had her mother's body moved to the royal cemetery.

***

Time passed and Viera settled into a cool numbness.

She and Malcolm learned to live separate lives from one another—something that the Synod didn't like and often protested. When the papers began publicizing Malcolm's frequent visits to local whorehouses and his uncanny way of being caught with his britches down, Viera was to blame.

If she loved him more and was not so wickedly cruel, perhaps the poor king would not feel the need to drown his sorrows or seek comfort in the welcoming arms of others.

Of all the rumors, Viera cared the least about that one.

She could be blamed for a great many things, but it was ridiculous to blame Viera for Malcolm's constant infidelity. What else was to be expected when two people who loathe each other were forced to marry? Everyone acted as if she was an idiot for not wanting him. He was handsome and, before she'd ruined him, he had been one of the kingdom's most eligible bachelors.

Yes, Malcolm Warwick was charming, but only as long as he got his way.

Viera knew that better than anyone else.