Page 97 of The Forgotten Queen
“I really don’t. But,” she sat up, “I do have one great idea. Why don’t you go to the meeting for me?”
Sydria reared her head back. “Why would I go to the meeting?”
“Because you’re the queen. If I have to be at the meeting, then you should have to be there too.”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t invited.”
Dannyn swung her legs around, so they touched the ground. “Are you going to wait to be invited, or are you going to walk in and show them you’re the boss?”
“But I’m not the boss.”
“You are. You’re the queen.”
The queen situation was temporary, but maybe she didn’t want it to be temporary. Maybe she could actually be a good queen. A strong desire pressed within her chest, the desire to help people, to solve problems, right the wrongs. She didn’t know where the feeling had come from, but it felt familiar. Was it a part of the old her—the Sydria that wasn’t a stranger in her own skin?
She could attend the meeting to see what would happen. She didn’t have to say anything. She could sit there and listen, and maybe a memory would spark to life, something that explained the pounding in her chest.
“I think I will attend the meeting,” she said, getting up from her chair.
“Really?” Dannyn seemed surprised.
“Yes. You’re right. I should be there.”
“You’re going to be late.”
“I’ll hurry. Where is it at?”
“The main meeting room next to the royal offices.”
Sydria walked briskly down the hall, her shoes clapping against the ground as she went. She rounded the corner and rushed through the door to the meeting room, then her footsteps halted. She looked around. There was a large oval conference table that fit at least twenty chairs around it. Every single seat was already taken.
“Pardon me,” she said.
King McKane glanced at her. “Sydria, are you lost?”
She swallowed.
Was she lost?
She was a fool for thinking that she belonged at a meeting about the kingdom of Cristole.
She hesitated, balancing between who she thought she was and who she might actually be. The pounding in her heart increased, and she lifted her heel to take a step back when Marx stood up from the head of the table.
“She’s not lost,” he said. He gestured for her to come in. “She’s the queen of Cristole, and she’s here for the meeting.”
His warm hazel eyes fixed on her.
How did he do that? How did he squash down every one of her insecurities and find strength buried inside?
“Come in. We’ll make room for you.” He signaled for the men beside him to move over, and he grabbed an extra chair from the corner of the room, placing it next to his.
Sydria nodded at all the faces and pairs of eyes looking at her as she made her way to her seat.
“Now that the queen is here, we can officially start,” Marx said, helping her scoot her chair in. “We’re gathered here to talk about how we can increase the jobs in our kingdom and positively impact the security of our people. I asked each High Ruler to give me a report on the employment statistics from the provinces they rule over.”
“When did you do that?” King McKane asked.
Marx shot a pointed stare over to his father. “A couple of weeks ago.”
