Page 96 of The Forgotten Queen
“Because she’s my wife, and I deserve to know what I’m dealing with.”
“You deserve to know?” he raised his eyebrows. “Why do you deserve to know?”
Marx straightened, resting one hand on his hip. “She’s had a few memories, flashbacks, and I want to know what they mean.”
His smugness deflated. “What kind of flashbacks?”
“I don’t know, but she thinks there’s a chance that she could already be married. So I’m asking you, is Sydria married to somebody else?”
“Already married?” His father spun his chair, facing the window. “That’s ridiculous. Of course she’s not already married.” He eyed Marx. “Sydria must be confused. Keep doing what you’re doing. Keep her happy, and everything will work out.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“Yes.” His father’s lips pressed together.
Marx knew that was all the information he was going to get from his father. His jaw stiffened, and he turned to leave.
“I’m glad to see you care so much,” his father called after him.
Marx kept walking.
He did care.
But something in his gut told him to trust Sydria’s resurfacing memories over his own father.
Sydria
Sydria sat with Dannyn in the royal sitting room. She had her notebook on her lap and a pen in her hand, jotting down details of every dream she’d had. Every clue to her puzzling life. But it was hard to concentrate. Her mind kept drifting to Marx and the way he’d opened up to her the day before about Palmer. His wounds had been on full display. The vulnerable look in his eyes had made her own heart soften with compassion. He carried so much weight, harbored so much guilt. He needed a little grace—someone to forgive him and tell him that he wasn’t a bad guy.
Sydria thought back to Idella’s words on their wedding day.
Marx McKane has always been a little lost, but the last year and a half have been hard on him. He needs something to help ground him. I suppose that’s where you come in.
At the time, Sydria hadn’t understood the meaning behind Idella’s words, but now, those words gave her purpose. Each day with Marx, Sydria found a little bit more of herself. She wasn’t scared anymore of the life inside her. He made her want to fight for it, to become the best version of herself, and she hoped she brought out the same feelings in him.
“I’m supposed to go to this boring meeting,” Dannyn complained. She was stretched out on the couch across from her.
“What’s the meeting about?” Sydria asked.
“Jobs or something stupid like that.”
“Jobs?”
“Yeah, you know.” Dannyn changed her voice as if she were impersonating a man. “How can we create more jobs for the people in Cristole? Blah, blah, blah.”
Sydria let the pen drop into her notebook. “Dannyn, that’s important stuff.”
“I’m sure it’s important for somebody, but not me.”
“You’re the princess, and because of that, you’re held to a higher standard. You have obligations to the working class to make sure they have the best quality of life they possibly can.”
“What about my quality of life?” She threw her hand out.
“I think your quality of life is pretty good.” Sydria snickered.
“I never know what to say at these meetings.”
“I’m sure you have great ideas of how you can help the people.”
