Page 109 of The Forgotten Queen
“Don’t worry,” Stoddard said. “I’ll take care of Marx.”
McKane’s eyes widened, and his body convulsed.
Stoddard pressed his lips into a smile, watching as another king succumbed to death because of him. Why was that so satisfying? After a few more spasms, McKane was gone.
It was pretty anticlimactic.
Stoddard didn’t need explosives or weapons to take down the Council of Essentials. He could do it by himself. One royal at a time. He went to the king’s desk, picking up a newswriter, and walked back over to the couch. He positioned the king’s leg so that it rested on his knee, and then he placed the newswriter in his lap. If anyone were to look in on the king, it would appear that he was relaxing on the couch, reading. By the time anyone discovered that McKane was dead, Stoddard would be long gone.
Everything had worked out perfectly. He had McKane’s money and had gotten rid of any evidence that Stoddard was somehow involved. If the princess was remembering things, Stoddard needed to remove himself from the situation. By killing McKane, he’d eliminated the possibility that Cristole could turn on him. King Marx would be the fall guy now. He rolled his shoulders back and casually opened the door to the king’s office, closing it behind him.
It’s almost too easy to kill a king these days.
31
Marx
Marx flipped through the papers on top of his desk. He should be reading through the latest reports on the fire in the province of Colonias, but he couldn’t concentrate. It wasn’t like his mind couldn’t focus onanything.He had no trouble thinking about Sydria’s back peeking out of her dress the night before, or her hands running through his hair, her body against him, her soft lips lingering over his. Those things were easy to think about.
Too easy.
Marx had been dancing a fine line for a couple of weeks, teetering between their fake relationship and his real feelings. He’d been standing on the edge, a dangerous place to be, but instead of accidentally falling for Sydria, he’d jumped in—whole-heartedly. There was no point in drinking from the lie anymore. Last night, everything had become real.
In a normal situation, people would high-five him, congratulate him that he’d found the one woman whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but nothing about this was normal.
Marx didn’t know who Sydria was or what past life waited for her.
And there was a very big chance that she was already married to someone else. A piece of information that he’d forgotten about last night when he’d so willingly locked his lips with hers. In his defense, it was supposed to be a simple kissing lesson. Now it could be the title of a book, ‘When Kissing Lessons Go Wrong.’
Or incrediblyright.
He stood from his desk, walking over to the window. He drew in a breath, placing his hands on his hips.
Who was Sydria, and how had she gotten mixed up with Commander Stoddard? Marx hadn’t mentioned Stoddard to her yet. He doubted that she’d recognize the name. Besides, was Stoddard really the one behind all of this, or was it King Adler?
Adler had always had weird things going on in the kingdom of Tolsten. The hidden weapons were proof of that. Marx wouldn’t put it past the guy to have a hidden daughter as well—kept in secret for the last twenty-one years. Right now, that was the most plausible explanation.
There had to be a way to find out for sure who Sydria was. There had to be something that could jog her memory. Maybe if she saw a map of Tolsten or Queen Myka’s name, her mind would be triggered.
It couldn’t hurt.
Marx could take Sydria to the Cristole Castle artifact room, show her the map of the seven kingdoms and the royal families’ records. He doubted it would work, but at this point, He was desperate. He couldn’t be with Sydria, truly be her husband and share his life with her, until he uncovered the mystery of her past.
If his plan didn’t work, if nothing in the artifact room sparked a memory, then he’d go to his father…again. He’d swallow his pride. Tell his father that he loved her and beg him to tell him who she was and put him out of his misery.
He didn’t like that plan.
That’s why it was Plan B, not A.
The fact that Marx was on a “need to know” basis, meant that his father had something nefarious planned. Did he intend to hurt Marx? Or worse, Sydria?
He needed to figure this out without his father so he could stop whatever was in the works.
He clapped once, pumping himself up.
It was time to go find out who his wife was.
Marx knocked on the door to the royal sitting room.
