Page 14 of The Forgotten Queen
McKane wouldn’t be slighted by King Bryant again. He would show him it was a mistake not to align with Cristole in the first place. But as he shook the criminal’s hand, he wondered ifhewas the one making a mistake.
4
Sydria
The hot afternoon sun beat down on Sydria’s back as she hung laundry on a line to dry. She stuck her bottom lip out, blowing her hair away from the sweat that had gathered on her forehead. The summer heat smothered her lungs. Being from Northland, she wasn’t used to the humidity in the air or the high temperatures of Cristole. And her weak muscles weren’t used to the manual labor of her daily chores. Aunt Edmay had had to show her how to do everything from hand-washing clothes to planting a garden and making dinner. For some reason, Sydria didn’t remember how to do any of that, but she could remember all fifty states from pre-Desolation America. She would trade in her useless educational facts for more practical memories if she could.
Stomping hooves turned her head to the dirt road. Otis rode toward the house, pulling the reins of his horse at the last second. He leaped off the animal and barely glanced in her direction as he pushed the front door of the cottage open.
A tight foreboding settled in her bones. She had hoped that Otis wouldn’t come back, had hoped that he hadn’t solved the situation—whatever that meant. Something was off with him and the way he treated Von and Edmay. There were too many inconsistencies for Sydria to sift through. The answers felt obvious, but she couldn’t piece any of it together.
She arched her back before bending down for another one of Aunt Edmay’s shirts. Uncle Von leaned his head out the door and called for her. “Sydria, we need you inside.”
That was quick.
They had skipped the small talk and gone straight to the part about her.
Her stomach constricted. She didn’t even know what she was nervous about, but she knew whatever Otis had to say couldn’t be good. She dropped the shirt back into the basket and sucked in a deep breath as she walked toward the house. The glaring sunlight outside made everything in the kitchen seem dark until her eyes had a chance to adjust.
Otis and Uncle Von stood in front of the cupboards, watching her.
“Sydria, Otis has some exciting news for you,” Uncle Von said, but the excitement didn’t reach his eyes.
She turned her head to Otis, studying him. He was about her same height, bald, with dark gray eyes that made her insides coil.
“What is it?” she asked.
Otis folded his arms across his chest. “As you know, your aunt and uncle risked a lot to save you. For months, they’ve worked tirelessly to keep you alive, and a large amount of money has been used to purchase the medicine that keeps your heart beating.”
“I know that,” Sydria said. How could she not? Aunt Edmay and Uncle Von never passed up a moment to tell her that her presence there had cost them a lot. “I’m grateful for everything they’ve done.”
“Are you grateful?” Otis asked.
She stood taller, slowly raising her shoulders back. “Of course, I am.”
“How grateful?”
She eyed Uncle Von and Aunt Edmay, but they didn’t meet her stare. They seemed content to let Otis run the conversation. She shifted her eyes back to him. “I’d do anything for them.” She’d thanked them every day, worked tirelessly around the house and in the gardens without complaint. No one could say she hadn’t proven her gratitude.
“If I gave you a chance to repay them for their kindness, would you take it? Would you do the smallest of favors?” Otis asked.
She wanted to say that it depended on what he asked of her, but how could she? Sydria was indebted to them. And they were the only link to her past. She nodded her head slowly. “I would do what I could to repay them.”
“Good.” Otis’s lips turned upward into a rehearsed smile. “You’re to be married.”
To be married?
Sydria repeated the words back to herself, trying to grab ahold of their meaning. That wasn’t the kind of favor she’d been expecting. Something more like find a job in the market. Skip a meal every single day. Move out. Those were the types offavorsshe had expected.
Not a marriage.
Her brows lowered. “I don’t understand. How does that help Edmay and Von?”
Otis clasped his hands behind his back, tilting his head to the side. “This isn’t just any marriage. You are to marry the king of Cristole.”
“Why would the king of Cristole want to marry me? I’m a nobody.”
“King Marx wants to marry a working-class girl to show his people that he values everyone. Not just the ruling class. And in return, he’s agreed to compensate your aunt and uncle very generously.”
