Page 50 of The Forgotten Queen
Sydria
Sydria sat in the middle of the royal sitting room, waiting for the queen mother and Princess Dannyn to arrive. She watched in silence as the giant wood ceiling fan circled, blowing a soft breeze over her.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Dannyn called, rushing through the door.
Sydria jumped from surprise.
“I slept in,” she explained as she plopped down on the couch.
Tardiness must be a family trait.
“Then I stopped by my mother’s room, and I guess I stayed too long.” She kicked off her shoes, tucking her legs under her.
Sydria looked at the door. “Isn’t your mother joining us?”
Dannyn tugged at her dress, pulling it over her legs. “No, she said she has a headache.”
Sydria’s expression filled with concern. “Is she going to be okay?”
Dannyn swatted the air in front of her. “She’s fine. In my opinion, she’s kind of a hypochondriac. It’s a recent thing.”
“Oh.”
The two women stared at each other for a moment. Without the queen mother, this meeting was going to be unbearable. What was Sydria going to say to a princess? She couldn’t think of a single thing. Instead, she leaned forward, taking a sip of tea from her cup on the coffee table.
“You know, my brother really is a good guy,” Dannyn said.
They were going to start right off with the marriage. Apparently, small talk wasn’t necessary.
“I mean, he was abetterguy before Palmer died, but we all were better back then.”
Sydria held her teacup frozen in mid-air. Her muscles tensed. They were also going to jump right into the dead brother conversation. She had assumed something like that would be addressed in a couple of weeks.
A slight smile touched Dannyn’s lips as she spoke. “Palmer was our brother. The youngest child. From day one, he was always my parents’ favorite—the hero child. The attention my parents gave him bugged me, but not Marx. He adored Palmer, and the two of them were inseparable.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died a year and a half ago. Right before the election.”
Sydria lowered her cup to the table as she listened. She was glad Dannyn was telling her all of this. Everyone in the kingdom probably already knew, so it was good for her to be up to speed.
“Palmer was supposed to be king.”
“Instead of Marx?” That surprised Sydria, especially since Marx was the oldest son.
“Oh, yes! That’s what my father always wanted. Like I said, he was the hero child, but it was more than that. Palmer played better to the crowd. He wasn’t reckless like Marx and me. His head was on straight, and being the king of Cristole was important to him. He’d already been campaigning before he died. Once he was gone, my father had to hurry and put forth Marx for the election.”
“Why did you need someone from your family to become the monarch? Why couldn’t you have ended your father’s reign and moved on?”
Dannyn laughed. “It sounds pretentious, really, but when you’re used to a certain lifestyle, used to royalty and the prestige that comes with that, you don’t want to give it up.”
“So Marx took his place in the election and became king?”
“Yes, even though he didn’t want to. Palmer had always been the face of the royal family. The people loved him. He had so much charisma and natural leadership. Right before the election, my father sent him abroad to Albion for the infamous wedding.”
Sydria had no clue what wedding Dannyn was talking about, but she didn’t want to interrupt and ask questions yet. She wanted to know how the story ended.
“After that, he went to the kingdom of Appa to negotiate a trading deal. He traveled all over Cristole. The election was his.”
