Page 72 of The Forgotten Queen
She knew the feeling.
Her fingers pulled the button through the small slit, and she stepped back. “All done,” she said, clearing her throat as she tried not to let his words go to her head. After all, he had to convince his secretary he was enamored with her.
He stuck out his leg, showing her his pants. “What do you think of my new suit?”
She smiled. “I really like it.”
Who wouldn’t when he was the one wearing it?
“What do you think?” she asked.
“It grows on me more each day.” The serious look in his eyes made Sydria think he was no longer talking about his clothes.
“Are you ready for this?” he asked.
She raised her shoulder. “I think so.”
“You’re going to do great.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
Sydria wrapped her hand through as Elsbeth opened the door for them. They walked down the hall, and it wasn’t long until the soft sound of violin music floated up to them, growing stronger as they approached the ballroom.
“Is the party not outside?” she asked.
“Nah, it’s too hot.”
She nodded as they rounded the corner to the ballroom. “Do you have any advice about how to handle the situation or the guests?” she asked, feeling her nerves grow stronger.
“High Ruler Bates has a wandering eye,” he said in complete seriousness.
“Oh, like he cheats on his wife?”
Marx turned to her. “No, like one of his eyes doesn’t follow the other. I never know where to look, so I keep to the center of his forehead.”
They reached the top of the stairs, and hundreds of heads turned to face them.
“That’s your advice? To look in the middle of some man’s forehead?”
Marx smiled big, the smile that Sydria rarely got to see.
Marx
Marx’s attention turnedto the room full of people below them as the herald boomed out. “Introducing His Majesty…”
“I like to start walking down the stairs as he’s announcing,” Sydria said, pulling him forward to the first step. “It cuts the time that people stare at us in half.”
Marx gave Sydria a sideways glance. How would she know something like that? But now wasn’t the time to ask. She was focused on descending the massive staircase. It felt as though he’d gotten a brief glimpse into her mind, a flash of her past; it wasn’t the first time it had happened, but none of it ever made sense.
Marx looked back over the crowd. The herald finished their introduction as they reached the last step.
“See,” she said. “That’s much better timing.”
The crowd parted as they walked through the giant room toward the dais. The ballroom had twenty-foot ceilings with wood beams running the length. The walls were painted white, blending seamlessly into the white marble flooring. White netted curtains swept across the walls from window to window and colorful plants sat in white vases at the base of each one.
Marx leaned into Sydria as they walked so that only she could hear. “I’m trying to figure out how you know so much about introductions and the timing of entering ballrooms.”
“I don’t know.” She turned her head slightly, putting her cheek and lips in line with his.
Marx didn’t pull away immediately.
