Page 95 of The Forgotten Queen
He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have left him. I should have stayed there with him and done whatever I could to get his arm free.”
“You had no choice,” Sydria said. “You needed to get help.”
“No, I should have done something more.”
“It was a freak accident, nobody’s fault.”
“My father blames me.”
“I’m sure he’s looking for a way to cope with his own grief.” Her other hand went to his cheek. Her touch was soft and soothing. “He doesn’t really blame you.”
“I wish that were true.”
“I don’t blame you,” she said, peering into his eyes.
Her simple words impacted Marx’s heart more than anything else had in his entire life.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“We’re both a little banged up and bruised.”
His eyes swept over her face. “I guess so.”
Marx loved the ease of conversation that he shared with Sydria. She asked pointed questions, but the sincerity behind her questions made it easy to open up to her.
Everything with her was easy.
Everything but figuring out her past.
28
Marx
Marx hadn’t slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Sydria marrying another man. Not just any man, afaceless curly-hairedman.
Curls?
Was this guy five years old?
He stomped down the halls of Cristole Castle, ignoring the chirping birds and golden sunrise. He made his way to his father’s office. For the last few days, he’d wanted to talk to his father about who Sydria was, but their schedules hadn’t aligned. Marx wasn’t willing to wait for the right moment any longer. He passed his father’s secretary, Lance, and headed straight for the door.
“Your Majesty,” Lance stood, reaching his hands out. “The king said he didn’t want to be disturbed right now.”
“I’m the king,” Marx grunted as he pushed his father’s door open.
Meldrum McKane glanced up from a paper on his desk. “You’re up early,” he muttered.
Marx slammed the door behind him. He went to the desk, leaning his hands against it. “I want to know who she is.”
“Who?” Smugness pulled across his face as if his father didn’t know exactly who they were talking about.
“Tell me who she is and where you found her.”
“We’ve already been through this,” his father said, crossing his leg over his knee. “You’re on a need-to-know basis.”
“Well, I need to know now.”
“Why?”
