Page 40 of The Forgotten Queen
Something about that seemed right.
Being there in the castle, wearing the fancy dress, and mingling with party guests made her feel more comfortable than she’d felt since her accident. It was almost as though she wasmeantto be a queen—meant for this lifestyle.
Now Sydria was crazy.
She sipped her drink again, chastising herself for thinking such stupid thoughts.
“Queen Sydria?” the queen mother said behind her. “Would you join me? There are a few people I would like to introduce you to.”
She was glad to get a break from Warren and his heat-filled stares. “Certainly.” She nodded at Warren. “If you’ll excuse me?”
Queen Malory smiled back at her as Sydria walked toward the group of women gathered together.
“Ladies,” the queen mother said, “this is my daughter-in-law, Queen Sydria.”
Daughter-in-law? The queen mother was really living in a fantasy world.
The women dipped into curtsies.
“Sydria, these are my friends.” Queen Malory gestured to the women. “They’re the wives of the High Rulers. You’ll want to become closely acquainted with them. I always say that they’re the ones who get things done around Cristole.”
Collectively, the women let out a fake laugh at the queen’s remark.
One of the women, wearing colorful feathers as a hat, spoke up. “As queen, you’ll learn very quickly who your friends are.”
“Or how to influence your husband to get what you want,” another woman in a fitted peach-colored dress said.
The women laughed again like they all had access to some inside wives’ joke.
“I hadn’t heard that the king was getting married,” a new woman said. Her tone was more accusatory. Then Sydria noticed Cheney standing next to the woman. Her jaw was tight and her glare, cutting. They both had the same brown hair and light brown eyes. The woman was clearly Cheney’s mother.
Sydria opened her mouth to speak but didn’t know how much King Marx or his father wanted them to know.
“It was a last-minute decision,” the queen mother jumped in. There was a jittery smile on her face, as if lying made her nervous. “Queen Sydria wanted to be sure before she agreed to marry my son.”
“He does have a reputation,” Cheney’s mother said, and another group chuckle broke out around her.
“And where are you from, Your Majesty?” the feathered hat lady asked.
Finally, a question Sydria could answer. “Northland.”
“Were there no suitable kings in your kingdom to marry—you had to come all the way down to ours?” Cheney’s glare deepened.
Sydria lifted her chin to the girl. “I suppose there wasn’t.”
“Is your father a High Ruler in Northland?” another woman wearing gold swirls asked.
“Where are your parents?” Cheney asked, going on her tiptoes as she looked around the room. “I don’t see them here.”
“They’re not.” Sydria held her challenging gaze. “Unfortunately, my parents have passed away.” That was the first time she’d said that out loud. The finality of her situation took her breath away.
She had no parents.
Cheney scoffed. “So you have no family? No siblings?”
“What do you like to do in Northland?” the woman in peach asked. “I’ve heard there is a lot of snow up there. Very different from Cristole.”
Golden swirl woman leaned forward, lightly touching Sydria’s forearm. “Do you ride horses?”
