Dare to enter the Forest of Good and Evil, where strength is weakness and weakness is strength. Don’t miss book two of New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter’s magical, romantic and fascinating fairy-tale series, in which the fairy tales we know and love are prophecies of the future...
Pitied.
Sickly.
Unfit to rule.
Princess Ashleigh Charmaine is known as the Glass Princess, fragile enough to shatter with a whisper of wind. Born with a weak heart, she dreams of being treated like anyone else. Unlike her headstrong sisters, she received no magical ability at birth and lives every day expecting to die. Until an oracle announces that Ashleigh is fated to play the part of Cinderella, wed a handsome royal and save the Kingdom of Sevon from the evil king and queen who once ruled the land.
As war rages, Ashleigh begins to doubt her role in the fairy-tale prophecy. Animals despise her, she can’t carry a merry tune and she has zero social graces. Worse, the king she’s supposed to enchant is the newly crowned sovereign of the winged warriors known as the Avian...and he despises her, too.
When Ashleigh develops a terrifying magical ability to commune with dragons and create fire from air—a power she cannot control—she must work with King Saxon to save their kingdoms and their lives. By the stroke of midnight, she must warm his icy heart...or forever break her own. Will Ashleigh ever become the queen she’s prophesied to be...or will she lose everything she’s come to love?
Books by Gena Showalter
available from Inkyard Press and Harlequin TEEN
(each series lists titles in reading order)
The Forest of Good and Evil
The Evil Queen
The Glass Queen
The Everlife Novels
Firstlife
Lifeblood
Everlife
The White Rabbit Chronicles
Alice in Zombieland
Through the Zombie Glass
The Queen of Zombie Hearts
A Mad Zombie Party
The Intertwined Novels
Intertwined
Unraveled
Twisted
Gena Showalter
The Glass Queen
Gena Showalter is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author whose teen titles have been praised as “unputdownable.” Growing up, she always had her nose buried in a book. When it came time to buckle down and get a job, she knew writing was it for her. Gena lives in Oklahoma with her family and a menagerie of dogs. Become a fan on Facebook and visit her website at GenaShowalter.com.
To my cats, Lulu, Cookie, and the late, great Suggy. You little nuggets are the sweetest, smartest, most magnificent little a-holes on the planet. Any typos are YOUR fault. That’s right. I said it. You walked across my keyboard every stinking day. Now, come here and give Mommy her kisses and cuddles!
Contents
The Little Cinder Girl
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Excerpt from Alice in Zombieland by Gena Showalter
The Little Cinder Girl
by Oracles Unknown
Once upon a time, in a magical land teeming with good and evil, a beautiful queen birthed an incredibly special daughter.
Strong of heart and fast as wind. A warrior set apart, unwilling to bend.
Adored by her mother the queen but rejected by her father the king, the girl felt as if she lived in two worlds. The beloved princess and the despised servant. Then, one day, an evil force brought the cherished queen to an untimely end, leaving the girl in her cruel father’s hands.
When the time came for this king to marry again, he selected a woman with two magically gifted daughters. For years he experienced bliss and harmony with his new family...while his own child suffered at the hands of others, wearing rags, carrying countless buckets of water, stoking fires, cooking, and cleaning. Alone, unwanted and forgotten by the rest of the world, she slept in soot for warmth. Before long, the villagers referred to her only as Cinder, a terrible insult, but also an unwitting tribute.
Soon after the girl’s seventeenth birthday, the mighty king of a neighboring kingdom wished to find a bride for his son. Like the princess, this prince felt as if he lived in two different worlds. One of honor, and one of dishonor.
Hoping to draw the most worthy girls in the land, the marriage-minded king hosted a festival of old, complete with trading, jousting, and balls.
Cinder begged her father and stepmother to let her attend. Never had she been so excited. Alas, the king turned a deaf ear to her pleas while the heartless stepmother and hateful stepsisters laughed, insisting the royal servant stay home to finish her chores. Then off the family of four went, leaving Cinder brokenhearted. But it wasn’t long before a fairy godmother appeared with a gift, determined to prepare her for the night’s festivities. Then off Cinder went as well, eager to enjoy the night.
Upon first sight, the honorable-dishonorable prince was utterly besotted with her. Ignoring everyone else in the ballroom, he claimed her hand and led her to the dance floor, where he held her in his arms for the rest of the evening, refusing to partner with anyone else. She made him want to be wholly honorable, a friend and never a foe. But could he be what he had never known? And why would she not tell him her name?
While Cinder enjoyed every moment with the prince, wanting only to bask in his affection, she didn’t dare to share her identity with him. Could he truly fall in love with the girl no one else wanted? Then came the stroke of midnight, a clock chiming.
Ding.
Diiing.
Diiiiing.
Knowing she must arrive home before her family, Cinder ran from the prince, never looking back. Though he searched for his witty companion, he could not find her again...until the next celebration.
For the second time, Cinder’s family attended the event without her. Thankfully, a new fairy godmother arrived to give her a magnificent gown and ensure she joined in the gaieties.
The moment Cinder reached the celebration, the prince rejoiced. Once again, he took her by the hand, led her to the dance floor, and held her in his arms all night, refusing to partner with anyone else. To his consternation, she still refused to share her identity, and still abandoned him at midnight. Though he searched far and wide, he could not find her.
The third time would be the last.
When the final celebration kicked off, Cinder didn’t despair. Instead, she waited, her faith rewarded when a third fairy godmother appeared. This one granted her a dress more spectacular than any other, pairing it with magical slippers only she could wear, made of gold so pure, they appeared to be glass.
All the other guests marveled at Cinder’s appearance, for they
had never seen a more glorious sight. No one could glance away as she danced with the prince, who only had eyes for her.
When the clock tolled, announcing the arrival of midnight, the prince did not panic. Nor did he panic when Cinder ran from him once again. This time, a trap had been set, the palace stairways covered in pitch. But, the clever beauty surprised him. As soon as one of her beloved slippers got stuck, she left it behind and hurried away.
Enough was enough. The prince announced to one and all that he would wed the girl whose foot fit the slipper. Her and no other.
As word quickly spread through the kingdom, many hopeful females requested a chance to don the magical slipper. When Cinder’s oldest stepsister tried to fit her foot into the shoe, she failed. In an effort to trick the prince, she severed her big toe. But the prince was no fool and swiftly realized what had happened.
Next, Cinder’s younger stepsister tried to fit her foot into the shoe. She, too, failed and hoped to trick the prince by severing her heel. But again, he realized what had happened.
After dismissing the two, he inquired about the king and queen’s remaining daughter. Not wanting Cinder to succeed where her stepsisters had failed, the two lied, claiming Cinder was too sickly to leave her bedroom. Nevertheless, the prince insisted on meeting her.
Cinder gathered her courage to confront him. Even though she feared that the boy she’d fallen in love with would be disappointed by the real her, she presented herself to him at long last. With her head high, she eased upon a stool and slid her dirt-caked foot into the slipper. It was a perfect fit.
The prince rejoiced, and her family mottled with rage, knowing they would soon be forced to face the consequences of their actions.
Face those consequences they did.
The father was betrayed by his greatest love. The stepmother lost everything she’d ever prized. Birds plucked out the stepsisters’ eyes.
Overjoyed to have Cinder in his arms again, the prince soared away with her, their hearts beating in sync, one with the other. They married and lived happily ever after...eventually.
PROLOGUE
A glimpse into the past
Enchantia
The Provence of Fleur
When Good Intentions Have Evil Ends
Hear ye, hear ye! On this day in history, King Philipp Anskelisa of Fleur and Queen Charlotte Charmaine-Anskelisa welcomed their first child into the world. More than anything, the king had longed for a son. Alas. Fate gave him a daughter instead. A sickly one, at that.
Princess Ashleigh Charmaine-Anskelisa entered the world as quiet as a mouse, as still as a statue and as blue as a morning sky. The frantic midwife worked to aid the child’s breathing while shouting for mystical healers, who burst into the chamber minutes later only to discover their magic couldn’t fix the child’s malformed heart. While they could heal injuries given after birth, they could not affect the injuries created before it. The infant continued to struggle, on the verge of death.
Propped on a bed with a mound of pillows behind her and a feathery blanket draped over her lower half, Charlotte reached out to demand, “Give me my baby.” Though she was weak, tired, and sore, she would not relent in this. “Give her to me now.”
Tradition demanded that fathers leave their sickly infants in the Enchantian Forest as an offering to the Empress of the Forest, whoever she happened to be at the time. In return, the empress would bless the parents with another child. A healthy one.
Would Charlotte’s husband expect to trade little Ashleigh?
As one of the healers bundled the child in wolf’s fur and passed her back to the queen, the king paced at the foot of the bed, his expression hardening with determination.
He would, she realized with growing horror. He really would.
“Husband,” Charlotte whispered, cradling her precious darling close to her chest. “You must summon a witch sooner than royal tradition suggests. If Ashleigh is given an infusion of magic, it will work inside her rather than from an outside source, as with the healers. She will recover.” Surely.
A stoic Philipp paused long enough to snap, “Don’t be foolish, Charlotte. The babe is going to die. And this is right. This is good. Clearly you’ve made a cuckold of me. She cannot be mine. My lineage has never—will never—produce a child that is less than perfect.”
Hurt encompassed the queen, a denial resounding from deep inside her. “I have never been untrue to you.” Though she’d wanted to be. Philipp might be a handsome man, but he had the personality of a snake. “Ask the royal oracle. She’ll tell you of my innocence.”
He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now, anyway. In Fleur, the firstborn is the heir, whether a boy or a girl. This child isn’t worth saving. What if she dies in a week? A month? A year? The infusion of magic would be for nothing. A waste of precious resources.”
Charlotte swallowed a sob. “A single minute of time with her is worth everything.”
His expression remained impassive. “Yes, but not all life merits the amount of coins required to pay a witch for a magic infusion. So, I will summon the oracle, after all. If she tells us the child isn’t part of a prophecy or that she’ll bring destruction upon my kingdom, I will give her to the Empress of the Forest, so that we may be blessed with a second child, a true heir, and you will let me do so without protest. If the child is part of a prophecy, if she’s someone who will bring great wealth and power to my kingdom, however, I will let you keep her.” He looked to the midwife. “Go. Fetch her.”
The midwife rushed out of the chamber.
A barbed lump grew in Charlotte’s throat, nearly crushing her airway. The odds of keeping her precious Ashleigh were becoming slimmer by the second. The prophecies Philipp had mentioned were also known as “fairy tales,” because they’d been spoken by the oracles, the most powerful of the fairies, centuries ago. Like everything else in the world, these fairy tales came with a blessing and a curse.
No matter the story involved, those blessings and curses always arrived in the form of a person. A king or prince. A queen or princess. A servant. A witch. Wealth and happiness usually accompanied select characters, while all others tended to welcome some kind of evil force to a kingdom or become evil themselves.
Charlotte rocked her squirming baby and fought for calm. “You will live, my love,” she whispered. “You must be part of a fairy tale. And just look at you. How could you ever be part of a curse. No, oh, no. You are the blessing.”
Philipp was part of a fairy tale, so, why not Ashleigh? A fate the queen had previously hoped to avoid for her child. The tales were mostly symbolic and always offered more questions than answers, leaving everything up to interpretation and imagination until the last battle.
There was always a battle.
And there was only one reason Philipp had proposed to Charlotte—his own prophecy, “The Little Cinder Girl.” He’d considered himself the marriage-minded prince and Charlotte his perfect Cinder. At the time, she had believed him.
At Charlotte’s birthing, her parents had chosen not to let an oracle tell her future. Back when her older brother, Challen, had been a crown prince rather than king, he’d been predicted to play a part in “Snow White and the Evil Queen.” The news had quickly spread, and the family of a neighboring kingdom sent an assassin to kill him, just in case he came with a curse.
Challen had survived, thank gold, but her parents’ desire to know the future hadn’t. Because they’d never paid an oracle to glimpse Charlotte’s fate, they’d never expected anything to come from her life, all but forgetting her existence. She’d always regretted the lack and wished she’d known...until her marriage to Philipp.
During their courtship, the dashing king had promised her a true happily-ever-after. Soon after they’d married, however, she’d learned that her new husband lacked any kind of honor. He couldn’t be the marriage-minded prince, and Cha
rlotte couldn’t be his Cinder.
Tremors racked her so strongly she shook the bed. What if I married...the villain?
Philipp’s selfishness knew no bounds. He had everything, but he took more from those who had nothing. He kept multiple mistresses, and he despised anyone with a supernatural ability, even Charlotte at times, because the power he’d acquired as a child had never manifested. His body had rejected the magic, something that only ever happened to a rare few. The lack had always infuriated him. Of course, he liked to blame the witch who’d given him the infusion, rather than himself. But then, Philipp was utter perfection—to Philipp. He cared for his own well-being; everyone else was inferior to him.
A fact that terrified her. As “The Little Cinder Girl” fairy tale promised, the dishonorable characters would not, could not receive a happy ending. They sowed only discord, so, in the end, they reaped only discord. What if Philipp’s terrible fate had spilled over to Ashleigh, cursing her to misery and death?
No. No! Charlotte would find a way to save her child. She would pay any price.
Hinges squeaked as the oracle entered the chamber, a woman with long dark hair, pale skin, and an eerie air.
The moment of truth had arrived...
Charlotte’s heart hammered at her ribs as the oracle focused on Princess Ashleigh...
Beat.
Beat.
Beat.
The woman shook her head and exited the chamber without ever speaking a word.
But, but... No. No, no, no. Panic swept Charlotte up in an icy cyclone, a hoarse cry leaving her. The worst had happened. The oracle hadn’t seen a future, and Philipp now expected to give her baby to the Empress of the Forest.
Unaware of the horrid destiny her father planned for her, Ashleigh wiggled her tiny arms free of the fur and smiled up at her mother, as if to offer comfort. Comfort, from one so close to death, with a slight blue tint still marring her flesh.
“Say your goodbyes to the girl,” Philipp commanded without a shred of remorse.
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