Chapter Seventy Three

The king of Pres looked down at the dead body of the queen. He felt nothing. No hatred, no anger, nothing. All the things he remembered had wiped out any iota of emotion from him.

This woman, she had made him an emotionless being.

He had learned his lesson, and he realized it the hard way. Her face was pale, and her eyes wide in shock even in death. She had a long bloody wound marring her neck, and her blood surrounded her where she lay.

A guard lay by the side and, not surprisingly, understood everything. Their so-called queen was an evil witch. She had used her power on their king and the whole kingdom. Whoever had killed her needed to be commended.

The king did not incline what was going on in his guard's head, but even if he did, he wouldn't care.

Nothing was worth it.

"Throw her away." The king ordered the guard. The guard bowed his head and did as what told. He left the scene and started to head out when a small servant stood before him, holding a l