Page 133 of The Forgotten Queen
“I hadn’t heard that,” Seran said, sipping her tea. “It’s hard to hear the latest gossip when you’re in a coma.”
Sheridan’s eyes widened. “Oh, my goodness. How insensitive of me. Of course, you wouldn’t have heard that.”
“So tell us about the king of Cristole,” Jenica said.
Seran tensed. She dropped her arms, resting her teacup in her lap. “What about him?”
Jenica smiled. “Give us the juicy details. You married him, didn’t you?”
“Jenica,” Lizanne chided, “she was forced into marrying him.”
“I know that.” Jenica laughed. “I just wanted to know if he’s as awful as everyone says he is.”
Seran pinned her with her gaze. “Who says he’s awful?”
“My father said he’s a terrible king.”
“Marx McKane is an excellent king. I found him to be a very generous ruler.”
And kind, funny, handsome, athletic, charming, sweet, intuitive, thoughtful.
“I guess my father was misinformed.”
“Yes. I suppose he was.”
“How sad that you’ve hadtwoarranged marriages, and neither one of them has worked out,” Sheridan bemoaned.
Seran hadn’t thought about that before.
Thatwaskind of sad.
Would she ever find a man who would marry her because hewantedto? The problem was, she didn’t want just any man. She had a very specific man in mind.
“At least the divorce to King Marx is almost finalized.”
“I’m sorry. What was that?” Seran asked, focusing back on Sheridan.
She shrugged. “My father said that King Bryant has already taken the necessary steps in Cristole to end your marriage.”
“It must be such a relief.” Jenica placed her hand on Seran’s arm. Her fake kindness reminded her of Cheney.
“Yes, such a relief.”
“The worst part about it is that you’re no longer a queen. You’ve been demoted back down to a princess. You’re running out of kings to marry.” Jenica laughed.
Lizanne hit Jenica on the shoulder.
“What?” she said, glaring at Lizanne. “Seran knows I’m joking. I know she’s been drugged and lost her memory, but surely she remembers us and the way we joke,” she said, gesturing to the three of them. “We’re her oldest friends.”
Seran picked up her teacup. “It’s strange. I find I only remember people that I really liked.” She turned to Lizanne. “I remember Lizanne.”
Sheridan and Jenica’s mouths dropped in unison.
Seran took another sip of her tea, feigning innocence. She probably should be better behaved, more civilized, more of what these women wanted her to be, but lately, she’d been adopting Marx’s motto.
Just be who you want to be. Like what you want to like.
The new Seran found that she didn’t like her old friends.
