Page 31 of The Forgotten Queen
“He never came,” Sydria said as she followed Idella down the white halls of the castle.
“That’s the king for you. But don’t worry, he’ll make a good husband once he’s grounded.”
Grounded.
There was that word again. At this point, Sydria half-expected the king to have wings and fly into their wedding.
“Still,” Idella shrugged as she walked. “I didn’t expect him to jilt his bride before the wedding.”
“He didn’tjiltme.” Sydria straightened. “He just didn’tmeetme.”
“Well, no matter. You look beautiful, my lady.” She stopped walking and tugged on Sydria’s shoulder until she turned around. “Now for the veil.” She pushed a comb into the top of Sydria’s head, letting the white netted fabric fall behind her, then she pulled one layer over her. “I wasn’t going to hide your face, but since the king couldn’t even be bothered with coming and meeting you beforehand, I think we should. Let him guess about your beauty.”
She blew the material away from her mouth. “I’m sure I don’t care if he finds me beautiful or not.” That wasn’t exactly true. Something inside of her hoped she was pleasing to the king, even if she had no plans to actually marry him.
What was Sydria going to do now? She was wearing a wedding dress, on her way to the chapel. Everything would have to be sodramatic. She’d have to stop the wedding in the middle of the ceremony. The guests would be shocked. The king would be angry. It was really going to turn out ugly—not the kind of situation she wished to endure, much less be the cause of.
Idella placed her hand on the doorknob in front of them. “Are you ready?”
Her heart raced. “What? Now?”
“Yes, now.”
The air in her lungs froze, making her chest heavy.
“This is the castle chapel. What did you think was happening?” Idella asked.
“I don’t know, but I didn’t think…” Her voice trailed off as Idella slowly opened the large wooden door. There was nothing Sydria could do. She didn’t have time to prepare her thoughts on how she would interrupt the ceremony. Should she do it at the beginning or let the officiator get started and then cut him off?
An aisle split the room down the center with wooden pews on each side. At the front was a marble dais with a gold tapestry hung on the wall behind it. In the middle of the platform stood a middle-aged man with a receding hairline, making his forehead more prominent than it really was. The buttons on his shirt pulled apart where his stomach had gotten bigger than what the fabric could hold. The man smiled at her with his yellowed teeth, and Sydria grimaced.
Oh heavens! Is that King Marx?
Her heart banged wildly in her chest, adding to her rising panic.
“Is that—”
“That’s High Ruler Grier,” Idella whispered. “He’ll be the one performing the wedding.”
Sydria’s breath released. That was a relief.
She scanned the rest of the guests in the room, looking for her soon-to-be husband. King McKane and Queen Malory sat in the first row, staring back at her. The queen dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. The wedding hadn’t even started yet, and the woman was crying. Seated next to the queen mother, King McKane gave Sydria a calculated look, assessing his son’s purchase. Did King Marx’s father approve of his son paying for a bride? If she really had beenchosenfrom obscurity like Otis had said, had King McKane and Queen Malory helped make the choice?
King McKane’s lips curved into a smile. His smile wouldn’t be there for long, once Sydria stopped the ceremony.
Besides the three of them, the room was empty. Maybe King Marx would be a no-show, and Sydria could pretend this day had never happened. Or she could look back on it like it was some sort of school-day field trip where she learned about how the rich and royal lived.
The side door to the chapel opened abruptly, and the blonde girl from the beach rushed in, on the arm of the man she’d been kissing that night. The man escorted her to the seat next to the queen mother.
Princess Dannyn.
“Sorry we’re late,” she whispered a little too loudly. King McKane gave his daughter and the man a reprimand with his eyes.
A soft violin began to play, and suddenly Idella nudged Sydria from behind. “That’s your cue.”
She stepped her foot out in front of her, stopping the nudge. “How can that be my cue? There’s no groom.”
“I don’t know. I just know you’re supposed to walk down the aisle once the music starts.” Idella gave her another forceful nudge, and before Sydria knew what was happening, she was halfway down the aisle. The entire thing was ridiculous. What was she even walking toward? And she didn’t know what to do with her hands. They moved restlessly in front of her. Why hadn’t Idella given her a bouquet to hold? A bride should never be without a bouquet of flowers. What kind of wedding was this?
