Page 35 of The Forgotten Queen
They stood in front of the High Ruler. “You can continue,” King Marx said
The High Ruler slowly nodded back at them. “As I was saying…”
The wedding was back on.
Sydria hoped that she’d made the right decision. She hoped that King Marx wouldn’t let her down.
He said he was the man who frees the fish. I have to trust that.
An image of the ridiculous aquarium passed through her mind, and she silently chided herself for not including that in their agreement. She needed to up her negotiating skills if she was going to make it at the castle.
“Do you have the rings?” The High Ruler asked.
Sydria didn’t have a ring. She didn’t even have a bouquet of flowers. This was a low-budget castle wedding.
The king turned to his left and grabbed two rings from an older woman with a graying bun who must have been standing there the entire time, but Sydria hadn’t noticed her. Marx cleared his throat, looking at Sydria expectantly until she realized he needed her hand. She lifted it up and held her breath as he slowly slipped the diamond onto her ring finger. It was so big and clear. They probably could have usedthatin the closet for some light.
Oh, no.We left the closet light on.
What kind of a person thought about closet lights when they were getting married?
“Do you like it?” he whispered.
She fanned her fingers out in front of her, focusing on the ring. “It’s a bit gaudy and pretentious, but I suppose I only have to wear it for a little while,” she whispered.
Her words probably should have offended him, but instead, he smiled, and Sydria found herself tucking her lips together, suppressing her own smile.
King Marx handed her a simple gold band and extended his fingers. “I think this is the end,” he said softly.
Her heart raced. “I think so too.” Her hand brushed over the top of his as she slipped the ring down the length of his finger. A flow of heat crept up her neck to the tip of her ears, and she jerked her hand away.
High Ruler Grier straightened. “Seal your marriage with a kiss,” he said.
Sydria stiffened at the simple phrase. Slowly her eyes met his. King Marx pivoted so he faced her. He raised his eyebrows as if he found the situation amusing. His hands went to the corner of her veil, gently lifting the netting over her face.
Sydria’s heart pounded at an unnatural pace. Marriage or no marriage, she wasn’t going to let him kiss her, especially not in front of all of these people. She spun, intending to walk back down the aisle as fast as she could, but the king still had a hold of her veil. Her neck jolted back as the netted fabric pulled tight. She felt like a fish on a hook and her face flushed with so much embarrassment she thought she might die. She was mortified by her current situation, but she wasn’t about to slow her pace. She pushed forward, causing the comb in her hair to snap, sending her body forward as her veil yanked off behind her.
The few wedding guests looked at her with wide eyes and slightly open mouths. She rushed down the aisle, but Marx caught up to her. Was he going to swing her around and force her to kiss him?
No.
He looped his arm through hers.
“At least let me walk you back down the aisle,” he said into her ear, causing a sharp shiver to spread over her neck.
She lifted her chin, swallowing back her pride. “Fine.”
11
Marx
They exited the chapel into the hall. “I’ve never had a woman so determined not to kiss me,” Marx said as he handed her back the veil.
“I…” she shook her head, avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t kiss you because I don’t know you.”
He reached his hand out in front of her. “Marx McKane,” he said, introducing himself.
She eyed his proffered hand before slipping her delicate fingers inside his grip. “Sydria Hasler.”
