Myrcella's POV
"Father," I said, addressing the King of Milham. I had requested a private meeting, but instead of granting me that courtesy, here we were in his chambers. A maid—she looked to be in her forties—was kneeling at his feet, licking his toes as he sat on the edge of the bed, seeming entirely unbothered by my presence.
I held back a sigh, wishing he'd at least dismiss the woman for our conversation. But my father was the type who relished his own decadence, the kind who rarely concerned himself with the respect or comfort of others.
Since I could remember, he had never been anything but dismissive toward his family, especially my mother. He adored his concubine more than us and certainly more than his queen. His marriage to my mother had been purely for convenience, lacking any true bond of love, which explained why my brother Julius and I weren't exactly conceived out of affection either. We were here as a result of duty, not devotion.
