Page 2 of The Forgotten Queen
“Don’t use that word,” Uncle Von snapped. “We’renotmarried.”
Then the front door slammed.
Sydria bit her lip, counting to thirty before she walked down the narrow hall and into the small living room.
Aunt Edmay looked up from where she sat on the couch, sewing a button onto Uncle Von’s shirt. Her light brown hair had stripes of gray by her forehead, and the bags under her eyes seemed to get puffier each day.She blinked back her tears.
Next time, Sydria would count to sixty.
“Is everything okay?” Aunt Edmay asked expectantly.
Sydria couldn’t tell her aunt that she’d overheard them arguing again or that she’d had a bad dream—a dream that she thought was somehow connected to her past. She didn’t want to upset Edmay. She’d done that once—told her aunt that she’d forgotten to take her medicine and that she’d had a severe headache. Deep lines of worry had crossed over her aunt’s face. Sydria didn’t want those worry lines to appear again—at least not because of her—so she lied.
“I’m fine, thank you. I just need some fresh air.” Sydria’s lips widened into a smile. It was the smile she’d been perfecting for the last three months—ever since she’d woken up from her coma—a smile that had nothing real behind it.
Her aunt sighed, almost like she was relieved that there wasn’t something more she would have to deal with. “Don’t be gone too long. I made split pea soup for dinner.”
Sydria nodded. “Sounds delicious.”
It didn’t sound delicious.
It sounded like something Sydria wanted to gag on, but she didn’t want to be rude. Her expression must have given her away because her aunt’s brows dropped.
“The soup is all I’ve got. There’s been no money since…” Her words trailed off, and she shook her head. “Well, it doesn’t matter now.”
She could finish the sentence for her aunt. There had been no money sinceSydria.
She was to blame.
Von and Edmay had spent all their money caring for her when she was in a coma. She owed everything to them. Their small seaside cottage was her home now, and they were the family she would be indebted to for the rest of her life.
She crossed the room, looking back once at her aunt before she opened the front door and left. The sun was low in the sky, to the point that it nearly blinded her. She walked down to the beach, climbing over the black lava rocks that lined the perimeter until she hit soft sand. Cold water tickled her toes, and her eyes dropped to her feet. The waves were growing, reaching out to her with the evening high tide as she strolled down the beach.
The seashore calmed her restless mind as if she had walked side by side with the ocean her entire life, but that wasn’t possible. Sydria had grown up in the kingdom of Northland, far away from the waves, the blue, and the delicate sand. When the carriage accident had happened a few months ago, her family had been traveling to Cristole to visit her Aunt Edmay. Luckily, they had only been a mile away from her aunt and uncle’s house when the carriage had lost control. Uncle Von was a retired doctor and had saved Sydria’s life. Her chest had been cut open by a piece of metal from the carriage, and the damage was severe. If Uncle Von hadn’t been there, she wouldn’t have survived.
Or so that’s the story she’d been told.
Sydria’s fingers glided up and down over her scar absentmindedly. At first, she hadn’t dared touch the large purple line that cut down her breastbone, as if her fingers could somehow split the raw skin open. But as the first days had turned into weeks and now months, the scar had become her solace, like a favorite blanket to a small child.
The wind picked up around her, causing a black strand of her hair to get tangled between her lips. She brushed it away as she moved forward. With each step, Sydria sank into the shore, leaving footprints in the sand behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, watching as the waves wiped away the traces of her steps until there was nothing but a blank canvas of sand. The visual seemed all too familiar—a sharp parallel to her life.
Empty thoughts swirled inside of her empty head. Time got lost with each push and pull of the waves until she noticed how dim the sunlight had become. She’d never walked this far down the beach, and she had the nagging feeling that she should turn around and go back. Aunt Edmay would be worried—maybe. Did people worry about their extended relatives whom they barely know? Maybe they weren’t even her relatives. There was nothing about them that made Sydria want to claim them as her relations.
A way down the beach, sparks from a bonfire drifted into the air, mixing with the laughter of happy people. She paused for a minute, listening to the pleasant sounds. Had she laughed since she’d woken up from her coma? She’d done her fake smile, but she hadn’t laughed. Her feet carried her forward, pulling her toward the carefree laughter as if something inside of her needed to know what happy people looked like.
Uncle Von and Aunt Edmay weren’t happy. When they weren’t fighting about their mutual dislike of each other, they spoke in harsh whispers about money, or the lack of it.
As Sydria got closer to the crowd, lava rocks jutted out from the ocean, grouped in piles. In front of her, a black wall of stone marked the end of the beach. The occasional green plant stood out against the cliff, cascading over the edges.
There was nowhere else for Sydria to go, but she didn’t want to leave. She crouched behind the lava rocks, slowly crawling forward until she was as close to the group of people as she could get without being seen.The waves from the ocean crashed into the rocks, making it hard to hear, and every once in a while, droplets of water would land on her arms and cheeks.
She peered over her hiding spot. It looked like some kind of party. Everyone sat around the bonfire, twenty feet from the shore. Beautiful women leaned against the men, holding drinks in their hands while they flirted. At least Sydria assumed they were flirting—this was her first look at the skill post-accident.
A few of the men snuggled their women close, planting passionate kisses on their lips. Sydria looked away with embarrassment. She gave it a few seconds—how long do kisses usually last?—then she glanced back.
Still going.
Her eyes drifted to another couple, one that wasn’t getting to know each other with their lips. The brunette with short, choppy hair flashed a sultry smile up at the man she sat by. The girl’s hand went to his blonde hair, and she began twisting a piece around her finger. He wore navy shorts and a white button-up shirt, but only the bottom three buttons were fastened together. His arms wrapped around his knees, and his eyes were fixed into a glare as he stared at the fire in front of him. Everything about him seemed closed off, but that didn’t stop the woman. The brunette’s free hand went to his arm, tickling his skin where his sleeves were rolled up. This girl was a professional flirter—layering on flirting techniques, one on top of another. Sydria wanted to be impressed, but instead, she had the uncontrollable urge to scratch her forearm aggressively. After a few non-responsive seconds from the man, the girl placed her hand on his bare chest—the part that was exposed from the lazy way he’d buttoned his shirt. Her lips went to his neck, tracing kisses below his ear. Or maybe she was kissing his ear—ear kissing might be a thing.
