Page 152 of The Forgotten Queen
Seran felt the entire square looking at the four of them. She glanced at Marx, on her right, unsure of what she saw in his eyes. Relief, of course, but there was more than that. Tenderness, maybe? Astonishment?
“Seran, what’s going on?” Her father stood at his spot across the square with Ezra and Drake behind him.
“Oh, boy,” Myka said, tucking her gun back under the skirt of her dress. “I think we’re in trouble.”
Seran cleared her throat, walking forward until she was in the middle of the square between her father and Marx.
She gathered all the poise she could muster. “I’m here to speak on behalf of King Marx’s innocence,” she said to the Council.
“My darling,” her father said. “Why don’t you go back inside? You don’t need to worry about any of this.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m not going back inside.”
“He’s guilty as charged,” King Hilton from Northland said.
“No, he’s not.” She squared her shoulders.
“Seran, your headaches make you confused.” Her father reached his hand out for her to come to him. “King Marxisguilty. He’s the bad guy here.”
Slowly she faced Marx.
His hair seemed longer, and his face held more stubble than she was used to. His hazel eyes looked back at her, piercing her heart. He was the only one who truly sawher. He didn’t try to make her something she wasn’t or what he wanted. Instead, he patiently waited for her to discover who she was.
Whoshewanted to be.
He made her feel strong, valued, beautiful, alive, and she loved him for it.
“You’re wrong about him,” she said, still staring into his eyes.
“Well, you are too late.” Her father shrugged. “We’ve already voted, and he’s been found guilty.”
Ezra raised his hand. “I would actually like to change my vote to innocent.” He gave Seran an apologetic look.
King Reddick from Appa scoffed. “You can’t change your vote.”
“Yes, he can,” Seran said. “The law states that members of the Council can change their vote and render mercy at any pointbeforethe execution.” She looked at her father. “You taught me that.”
Tears filled her father’s eyes. “You remember that?”
She nodded.
His voice was firm, counteracting the softness in his eyes. “Someone has to pay for everything that has happened to you. Marx McKane is at fault and should be punished for his involvement.” He gestured to her. “Can’t you see what he’s done to you?”
“Yes, I can.” She lifted her chin. “Marx McKane taught me how to speak up, to find my inner strength and that owning my inner strength is more than just doing what’s expected. I nearly married a man I didn’t love in a marriage arrangement I didn’t want because I wasn’t strong enough to speak my mind, but now I know better.” Her eyes skipped to him. “I know better because of Marx.”
Her father shook his head. “But if King Ezra changes his vote, then it will be a mistrial.”
“It should be a mistrial. King Marx is innocent, and I will not let you shed the blood of an innocent man for me.”
His shoulders dropped like a balloon that lost its air. “This is what you want?”
Seran looked at Marx. “This is what I want.”
His eyes filled with emotion and the corner of his mouth lifted into an unsure smile. Had he read between the lines? Did he know that she loved him?
“Then I guess I’d like to change my vote too,” her father said.
She skipped her eyes to her father. There was so much love behind everything he did, but lately his love had suffocated her.
