Page 37 of The Forgotten Queen
Sydria’s eyes darted to Marx. She wasn’t asking for permission. It was more like she wanted him to save her, like he was the person who would watch over her and make sure everything would be okay. It was an odd position to be in, since this was only the second time they had met, but he liked the role.
“Father, why don’t I escort Sydria into the courtyard? She ismywife, after all.”
My wife? Did I really say something that stupid?
Had Marx turned into one of those men who only got married to pretty women so they could show them off on their arms?
“Yes, of course.” His father smiled, obviously pleased by the idea. His father took Sydria’s arm and made a show of handing her off to him.
Marx looked down at their two hands joined together, but Sydria immediately released the grip and looped her arm through his. Arm looping was a less intimate gesture, and clearly this bride and groom were not going to be intimate in any form of the word.
Marx led her down the hall, his parents and younger sister trailing behind them. With each step toward the courtyard, Sydria’s body tensed.
This was going to be a disaster. She hadn’t even been able to stand the idea of meeting his friends at the beach the other night. How was she going to react to a room full of the most prestigious people in Cristole?
“How many people will be at this gathering?” Sydria asked, no doubt thinking the same thing he was.
“I’m not sure. I didn’t know it was happening until right before the ceremony. My father must have set it up.”
She audibly swallowed and then Sydria’s shoulders rolled back. Her chin lifted, but her trembling fingers on his arm told the real truth. She was nervous. Marx didn’t blame her. Functions like this were always stupid, and everyone made a point to stare. He’d take control of the situation, show her how to handle the crowd.
Marx stepped over the threshold to lead her down the stairs, but a tug on his arm pulled him back. He glanced at Sydria, fully expecting her to say that she wasn’t going to go into the courtyard or that she needed to take a moment so that she could throw up in the nearest vase or something. Instead, she stood tall, with confidence flowing.
“Wait for the introduction,” she whispered.
His eyes went to the herald, standing by the entryway.
Right. The introductions.
How did Sydria know about that?
The herald’s voice echoed through the courtyard, and the crowd hushed. “Introducing His Royal Majesty, King Marx, King of Cristole, and Her Royal Majesty, Queen Sydria.”
All eyes turned to them, and it was Sydria who stepped forward first, as if she’d done this moment a hundred times before. She looked regal, classy, and surprisingly like a queen.
Marx fumbled with his step, trying to keep up with her. He’d never walked into a room with someone on his arm before. He’d made a pointnotto. The newswriters liked to gossip about his relationships—the ones he didn’t really have. Entering a room with a woman on his arm was the quickest way to start a rumor. It was kind of nice to have Sydria there with him—someone to split the focus with. But it only took a second for Marx to realize that no one was staring at him. All eyes were pinned on the gorgeous woman at his side.
There was a refinement about her that didn’t make sense. She’d gone from a nobody to a queen in a matter of minutes, as if she were born for the role.Or maybe she’d been training for this moment her entire life, and that was why his father was excited about Marx marrying her.
His eyes darted around the room. He had to decide quickly who he wanted to introduce her to first. There were the High Rulers, men who were all his father’s friends. He didn’t want to give them the honor. He could take her over to his mother’s friends, but they were all the wives of the High Rulers. Dannyn’s friends were all clumped together. That seemed like a good choice. He assumed Sydria was about their age, and if she was acquainted with them, it might make her time at the castle a little more bearable. Then he saw Cheney—and her glare—standing in the middle of the group of girls. It wasn’t like Marx and Cheney were in a relationship or anything. Still, her sour expression conveyed her sentiments about his very recent nuptials, and Marx had no interest in dealing with that right now.
His only choice was his group of friends. They were going to have a great time with this situation—the loner king finally married. Marx might as well get it over with.
He led Sydria over to them. “Come meet my friends.”
She kept her same stiff posture and straight face as the circle of men opened to greet them.
“Gentlemen, may I introduce you to my wife, Sydria,” Marx said.
There it was again.
My wife.
It was like he couldn’t stop saying it. It rolled off his tongue way too easily.
Kase turned to Sydria first, his eyes glossing over. “Your Majesty, it’s, uh…um, I—I am…”
The entire group watched in agony as Kase tried to get the words out.
