Page 124 of The Forgotten Queen
The door opened, and King Bryant stepped out.
His eyes seethed. He didn’t look like the same wise ruler Marx had met at the Council of Essentials, but Marx couldn’t blame him for his impassioned change.
“I want my daughter!” he commanded.
Marx nodded at the guard at his side. “Go get Queen Sydria.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the guard said, then he quickly escaped back inside the castle.
Tindale and the other soldiers looked at him in disbelief.
“Your castle is surrounded,” Bryant said. “If you try anything, my men will attack.”
“There’s no need for that. We’re prepared to cooperate fully.”
King Bryant nodded slightly. Marx studied the man. He saw traces of Sydria in the small things the king did, the purposeful way he held his shoulders back, the way he lifted his chin, refusing to show weakness.
Regret and guilt filled Marx’s empty heart the way they always did. He should have told Sydria who he thought she was. Now she’d find out with hundreds of eyes on her. Holding that information was the cruelest and most selfish thing he’d ever done.
But he wouldn’t be selfish anymore.
He’d set her free.
Sydria
Sydria paced back and forthin the small safe room, worrying about Marx. Was he okay? What was happening out there?
The door opened, and all three women turned.
“King Marx has requested Queen Sydria to join him,” the guard said.
The queen mother sat up from where she’d been resting on the small couch against the wall. “To go where?”
“I can’t say,” the guard said.
“Then I’m going with her.” Dannyn stepped forward.
“No.” The guard held his hand up, stopping her. “Only Queen Sydria.”
Sydria glanced at Dannyn. “I’ll be with Marx. It’ll be okay.”
She followed the guard down the halls of the castle, unsure what was waiting for her. They rounded the corner to the castle foyer. A line of soldiers stood on the front steps guarding the door, or the lack thereof. Every head seemed to turn over their shoulders, looking directly at her. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to still her nerves. The line of men split in the middle, letting her pass through. Her eyes caught Marx’s. His lips were turned downward, and his hazel eyes were glazed over with sadness. She stepped toward him, searching his face for the answers she needed to calm her racing heart. Her head turned to the courtyard, and her throat went dry. A circle of soldiers with guns drawn surrounded two transporters, and in the middle stood the man she’d been dreaming about for the last week.
The man she guessed was her father.
Her pulse quickened as she studied him. He seemed older than the version in her dreams, but his brown eyes were the same. Emotion filled every part of him. Tears dropped steadily down his face, and his hand went to his quivering mouth.
“It’s you,” he said through his sobs. “It’s really you.”
She slowly nodded.
“You’re alive,” he cried out, cautiously stepping forward.
Had he thought she was dead?
He waved at his men. “Put your guns down.” When they hesitated, he called out again. “Stand down!”
The circle of soldiers did as he asked and lowered their guns.
