Page 73 of The Forgotten Queen
He also knew a thing or two about timing.
Sydria swallowed and slowly moved her head and her gaze back to the front.
“Maybe you were a herald before you lost your memory.”
She choked out a laugh and immediately tensed with embarrassment. Her free hand went to her lips then back down. He wanted to feel bad about her embarrassment, but he couldn’t. He’d made the beautiful woman next to him laugh. How could he feel bad about that?
Marx escorted her to the podium and helped her into her seat. His mother and Dannyn sat in the chairs next to them, and he didn’t miss the accusatory look in his sister’s eyes, a look that said,you like her.
What was so bad about liking his wife?
Dannyn’s look was confirmation that Marx was upholding his end of the bargain. He’d made everyone, including his sister, think that he was falling in love.
He nodded at his father as he took his own seat. The violin music started again, and the room exhaled. Chatter resumed, and the servants moved around the room delivering drinks. Sydria casually placed her hand on top of his.
Casually.
Like it was no big deal.
Like it didn’t trip up everything inside of him.
The tripping feeling was an added bonus to their charade. If Marx had to pretend to be married, he might as well enjoy himself a little bit. He moved his hand so that their fingers were laced together on top of the plush armrest between them.
His father’s words reverberated in his ears. “Things with Sydria seem to be going well.”
Marx turned in time to see his father’s smug smile—theI told you soof all expressions.
He gritted his teeth together, checking his pride and restraining himself from telling his father that he had a plan of his own. Whatever his father thought was going to happen, he’d do better not to be so cocky. Still, he wanted his father to feel secure with the marriage arrangement, so secure that he didn’t notice Marx investigating the motives behind the agreement.
“Yes, father,” Marx said. “Are you happy?”
Are you finally proud of me?
McKane laughed, his eyes blazing with satisfaction. “It proves that I’m always right.”
He would usually be annoyed by an expression like that and by the fact that his father would never be proud of him no matter what he did, but there was an incredible woman at Marx’s side, holding his hand, so things couldn’t bethatbad.
Sydria
Sydria felt like she’d met a thousand peopleand given a thousand fake responses to every person who bowed in front of her throne, eager to meet the new queen. She tried to be genuine, but how genuine could she be when she didn’t know anyone, not even herself?
“It’s almost over,” Marx said when the last guest stepped off the dais. He squeezed her hand, pulling her to a stand.
“What’s left?” she asked.
Dannyn poked her head between them. “The fun stuff!” She took her hand, dragging Sydria to a group of their friends. She recognized Kase, Warren, a few other girls, and, of course, Cheney. Marx followed after them, standing next to Sydria.
“Your Majesty,” Warren said, “you’ve met so many people this afternoon. Do you think you’ll remember a single person?”
Sydria gave him a reserved smile. “I remember meeting your mother, Lawna Bradshaw, and Kase’s little brother, Kell Kendrick.”
Warren raised his eyebrows. “I’m impressed.”
“I guess I have a knack for remembering names,” Sydria said.
“Except for your own,” Cheney spoke under her breath, loud enough for Sydria to hear, but not Marx.
She met Cheney’s scowl with a polite nod of her own, wondering what Marx would have done if he’d heard. Would Cheney have gotten away with her joke?
