Page 51 of The Forgotten Queen
“So what happened?”
Dannyn’s expression dropped with her eyes. “Three weeks before the election, Palmer drowned. It shouldn’t have happened—one of those freak accidents. Marx was with him. He did everything he could to save him.”
Emotion filled Sydria’s eyes. She didn’t know if she was upset over the loss of Palmer or on Marx’s behalf.
“Marx has had the hardest time dealing with the grief.” Dannyn laughed to herself, which seemed like an odd reaction. “Or maybe I’m having the hardest time or my mother. Who knows at this point? All of us have been pretty screwed up since it happened.”
“I’m so sorry for your family’s loss.” That was a terribly stupid thing to say in a moment like this, but Sydria didn’t know what else to say.
Dannyn gave her a sad smile. “Thanks.” She slapped her hands against her thighs. “So there you have it, the sordid details of the McKane family history. Have I scared you off?”
“No.” Sydria shook her head. “At least youhavea history.”
“True, but all of my memories are tragic.”
Sydria laughed. “They can’t all be tragic.”
“Some are good, I guess.” Dannyn looked her over. “So you have no memory?”
“I remember some things. Small facts and details of life, but I don’t remember anything related to me—what my family was like, what my personality traits are—it’s weird how everything personal to me is gone.”
“What do you think about all day if you don’t have any memories?” Dannyn asked, clearly intrigued.
“I don’t know. I suppose I make new memories and think about them. Or I think about how other people act and respond in situations, mostly wondering if that’s how I should be behaving too.”
Dannyn’s smile changed to something sincere. She was no longer the free-spirited princess, but a vulnerable woman. “We can make new memories together. I’m in the market for a sister.”
“So am I.” Sydria smiled, and for a moment, the emptiness inside of her felt a little smaller, until she remembered that none of this was real. Dannyn wasn’t really her sister.
“Perfect.” Dannyn’s genuine smile glowed. “We can trade clothes and talk about our love lives. I think that’s what sisters do.”
“Does that mean I can ask if Kase is your boyfriend?”
“Oh, Kase. He’s trouble and definitely not good for me. It’s a heartbreak waiting to happen.”
“Then why do you let it continue?”
Her lips curled upward into a mischievous grin. “Some heartbreaks are worth it.”
Sydria nodded, giving her a half-hearted smile. She didn’t understand what Dannyn meant, but she hoped one day she would.
16
Marx
Marx pretended to read the most recent newswriter as he sat in a linen chair in the royal sitting room, but really his focus was on studying his mysterious wife across the room. Sydria stood on a platform that had been brought into the room along with three-paneled mirrors. The castle’s wardrobe design team hovered around her, measuring her body. Marx wasn’t stealing glances at her because she looked good with measuring tape held snugly around her waist. No, he was immune to his wife’s attractiveness. Why? Because she wasn’t really his wife. And he could not be attracted to his fake wife. Instead, he examined her like an investigator would an unsolved mystery. Her gaze shifted to him, and he jerked his head forward, zooming in on an article in the paper about the season’s crop prediction.
Very fascinating stuff.
He glanced back at her, trying to convince himself that the article was more fascinating than the way Sydria smiled at Paula, the castle’s seamstress, and her team as they brought out colorful fabric.
“This is gorgeous,” Sydria said, pointing to a gold silk roll. “I think we should pair this fabric with the black sheer lace you showed me earlier. The dress should have a fitted bodice.” Her hands went to her ribcage and carved down the curves of her body. “And with a slight mermaid bottom fanning out. That style would really work with this material.”
“Your Majesty, that’s an excellent idea,” Paula said, taking notes while Sydria spoke.
“And what about chartreuse?” Sydria asked. “I haven’t seen a fabric panel with chartreuse.”
His brows pulled together, deepening the lines on his forehead. What did a working-class girl from Northland know about the color chartreuse or mermaid cut dresses? Had Sydria been some kind of fashion designer in her previous life?
