Page 9 of The Forgotten Queen
“A stroll?” Uncle Von asked. “A stroll doesn’t keep you out all night long.”
Sydria’s shoulders dropped. “I went a little too far and lost track of time.” She didn’t understand where her uncle’s anger was coming from. She was a twenty-one-year-old woman—at least, that was the age they’d told her. She didn’t necessarily have to answer to him.
He scooted his chair back and paced the small rectangular kitchen. “When we couldn’t find you, we sent a message to St—” He stopped walking, and his hand went to his chin.“To Otis.”
Why would they send a message to their friend Otis? Sydria had only met the man a handful of times and had learned quickly to avoid him. His beady eyes were constantly on her, watching, assessing.
“When he comes, he’ll be furious that we lost you.” The hand rubbing his chin shifted to his glasses, adjusting their position again.
“She’s not lost,” Edmay chimed in. She still sat on the couch in the same position that Sydria had left her in a few hours ago.
“I don’t understand why your friend Otis would be upset about my absence,” Sydria said, walking farther into the room.
Her aunt and uncle exchanged glances. They seemed to do that nearly every time Sydria asked a question, making her suspicious.
“It doesn’t matter now,” Uncle Von said, dismissing her with the flip of his hand. “Otis will be here soon.”
Sydria looked down at her wet clothes. “I’m going to go change my dress.”
Uncle Von shook his head and turned his back to her. She peeked at Aunt Edmay, who nodded as if giving her permission to be excused. She walked out of the room and rounded the corner. Uncle Von’s whispers followed behind her until she shut the door to her room. She leaned her back against the wall, looking up at the peeling paint on the ceiling. If only she could remember who she was, then everything in her life would be different. Uncle Von and Aunt Edmay wouldn’t treat her like she was broken, and she wouldn’t have to stay here. She could go home to Northland. She sighed and began pulling off her clothes, replacing them with a dry blue dress. Edmay had been so excited when she’d brought the colorful clothing home. She’d gone on and on about how it was the first time working-class people could wear dyed clothing. Sydria had stared at the bright clothing, guessing by Edmay’s reaction that it should have been a monumental moment for her—her first time wearing colored clothes—but something about the colorful dresses felt familiar. She combed through her wet hair, dragging her fingers through the tangles. A heavy knock pounded on the front door of the cottage.
Otis.
If Sydria had it her way, she would stay in her room the rest of the night. She didn’t want to see Otis, but she knew her aunt and uncle would expect her to come out of her room and greet him, and she didn’t want to let them down. She stilled herself then slowly opened the door.
“Do you not know the seriousness of the situation?” Otis’s sharp voice cut out.
“Of course, I know the seriousness,” Uncle Von said. “I, out of anyone, have been with the girl the longest.”
She paused outside her door. Something about their conversation urged her to stop and listen.
“If we lose her, we will all be ruined,” Otis lashed out.
Ruined.
That was a peculiar word choice.
“Don’t you think I know that?” Uncle Von said.
“Well, then you should be taking better care of her, watching her.”
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” her uncle said. “Iwon’tdo this anymore.”
“Neither will I.” Edmay’s bold statement was betrayed by the quaking in her voice.
“You don’t have a choice,” Otis hissed. “If you don’t keep this up, I will destroy you.”
“You’ve already destroyed me!” her uncle spat. “I’m sick of your empty threats.”
“There’s nothing empty about my threats. You can count on me ruining your life like I’ve done with the others.”
Sydria bit her lip as her heart raced. Otis’s words didn’t sound like something a friend would say to another friend. There had to be more to this story than what Von and Edmay had told her. There had to be a reason why Otis was so worried aboutherspecifically. She could try asking her aunt and uncle more details about him, but they would change the subject like they always did when it came to her past.
Thick tension crowded the small house. Sydria wanted to recoil to her room and pretend like she’d never heard this conversation. Their words were too much for her foggy mind. Even if she tried, she’d never be able to make sense of the meaning.
“It doesn’t matter now,” Otis said, letting out a frustrated breath. “Things will change tomorrow. You only need to hang on a few more days.”
“She won’t remain with us?” Aunt Edmay asked.
