The Glass Queen

by Gena Showalter

  His words and seeming concern for my well-being left me dizzy with...something. Some wild, frantic emotion I couldn’t name. I could only blink up at him, desperate for more of it.

  “I meant what I said.” He brushed the tip of his nose against mine. “If Milo had touched you, I would have dived over the table and fed him his own teeth. You are mine.”

  “Yours?” What is even happening right now? We were going to admit we had feelings for each other, despite everything else going on?

  I flattened trembling hands on his pectorals. He towered over me, his shoulders and wings so wide I couldn’t see past him. I didn’t want to see past him. I panted my breaths, scenting his amour with every inhalation. I’d made him happy again?

  The phantom rose with a vengeance, trying to steal the moment, to claim the amour as her own, but I beat her back. I would not share.

  I fought her with such force, she scampered back to her hidey-hole, going quiet.

  I’d done it? I’d beaten her back?

  I had, I really had. I still had a measure of control. I didn’t have to run away to find a new home just yet.

  Saxon’s heart leaped beneath my palm. “You look happier.” His gaze hooded, sliding to my mouth. “Kissable.”

  My pulse thumped. “You want to?” Kiss me. Please. I was high on my victory against Leonora.

  “I want...” He smoothed a strand of ivy from my hair, then frowned, cursed, and backed away.

  “Saxon?” What just happened?

  “We need to talk. Alone. There are too many prying ears here.” He yanked, pulling a leaf from the vine. “Meet me at the stables tonight at midnight. Let Cinder run to her prince this time.”

  His use of the fairy tale brought an unexpected smile to the surface. “What will we be discussing, exactly?”

  “Why don’t we start where we left off here?” His gaze dropped to my lips, his entire countenance softening. “And go from there.”

  22

  Can you win against fate?

  Or is it already too late?

  Ashleigh

  To meet with Saxon at midnight or not? I wanted to. Because he would kiss me. I also didn’t want to. Because he would kiss me. So I paced throughout my bedroom, thinking. When my gaze snagged on the scuff marks that littered the floor, I paused, curious. This chamber had once belonged to Saxon. Those marks could be from his boots. Had he liked to pace the same trail?

  I surveyed the rest of the room with new eyes. A handful of ivy vines had grown over one of the walls, where a mural had been painted. The candles that emitted a delicate perfume of vanilla bean—his favorite scent?—flicking with light, revealing details I’d previously missed. In the mural, a warlord with blue wings led an army of soldiers toward a clearing that teemed with colorful flowers...where a large shadow had begun to fall.

  Upon closer inspection, I knew that shadow represented a dragon. The mural itself must represent Craven’s war with Leonora. Did he have it commissioned as a reminder never to love the supposed witch again?

  I rubbed my chest to dull a sudden, sharp pang, the mental debate still raging. I want to see him. But I also don’t want to see him. But I do want to see him. But I don’t. But I do. I don’t. I do. Don’t. Do. Don’t. Do. Argh!

  Ultimately, the battle was both won and lost with a single thought. Kiss him tonight, and wonder if he kissed Dior tomorrow?

  That one stung. Better to keep my distance from Saxon. I was coming to rely on him too much, anyway.

  What would happen if I couldn’t find a way to kill or even permanently subdue the phantom? I’d been so sure of my success...eventually; then she’d agreed to Milo’s proposal on my behalf.

  What if I stayed just as I was for the rest of my life? Would Saxon want to be with me?

  I could guess the answer, so no, I wouldn’t be meeting him tonight.

  With a sniffle, I locked and barred my bedroom door with a chair, then perched at the desk to write a quick note for the avian.

  I’m sorry, but I think we need some time apart.

  A

  Because of the tracker spell, he wouldn’t worry when I failed to show up at the stable. He would know I remained at the palace.

  With the note in hand, I entered the secret passage—a small, dark room with a staircase going up and a staircase going down. The magical doorway to the stable stood between the two staircases. At first glance, it appeared to be a full-length mirror. I walked through the liquid glass, emerging in an empty stall, still dry.

  After pinning the note to a wooden beam, I wandered about until I found my dragons sleeping in a stall. Just the sight of them swelled my heart with love. I hadn’t meant to wake them, but wake them I did. They bounded up, happy to see me. They must have sensed my sadness, though, because they refused to leave my side.

  No help for it. I led my babies through the doorway, returning to the bedroom.

  We settled into bed, the two creatures cuddling against me as I read “The Little Cinder Girl.” “That’s me,” I said. “I’m Cinder. Maybe you’re the reason I’m as fast as wind, eh? Are you darlings going to give Momma a ride one day?”

  Pagan looked at me as if I was a good little human for realizing something that should have been obvious to a rock.

  Just how smart were my dragons, anyway? Or any dragon, for that matter. In only a week, my babies had learned to understand a language I’d needed years to master. Well, not master, but utilize somewhat properly. My tutors used to despair during my lessons, when I’d been more interested in daydreaming about “The Little Cinder Girl.”

  Pyre grinned at me, her big, dark eyes alight with possibilities.

  Both of my babies gave my cheeks a lick before settling in more comfortably. They drifted back to sleep, smoke curling from their nostrils, and I yawned, ready for a doze myself.

  Nope. Not going to happen. I still refused to sleep. Leonora wouldn’t be taking over, and I wouldn’t be meeting with Milo.

  I. Would. Not. And that was that.

  * * *

  I gasped, my eyelids popping open. What. The. What? My jaw dropped. I lay in the catacombs of the palace, right outside Milo’s closed door. Well, the door I assumed belonged to Milo, since the markings on it indicated a warlock’s chamber and reminded me of the one that belonged to his father.

  Scowling, I jumped to my feet. Darkened hallows with stone walls and the occasional torch created a maze all around. Dust hung heavy in the frigid air. A random water droplet splashed on the floor.

  I’d had enough of these secret meetings. I banged on the door. “Let me in, Milo. I know you’re in there.” He must be.

  Footsteps. The door swung open, revealing the warlock. He wore a loose tunic and leather pants, his feet bare. His golden locks were disheveled, as if he’d plowed his fingers through the strands—or Leonora had.

  I balled my hands. What had she done with him? What had she told him?

  He grinned, saying, “You changed your mind.” Then the grin fell. “Oh. Ashleigh.”

  “What are you and Leonora planning? You’re eager for more power, and I get it. But why trust her over me, the one who knows her secrets?” Betray her, Milo. Please.

  He slammed the door in my face.

  Though I banged and banged and banged, he didn’t open up again.

  The distinct click-clack of a spidorpion’s many legs snagged my attention, and I hissed in a breath. A noise sure to send terror storming through anyone. I ran for...the...secret... No! Archways and hallways. Where were the doors? The secret passage?

  I skidded to a stop, fighting panic.

  A spidorpion dropped from the ceiling and landed a few feet away from me. Fear choked me as I spun to flee—and found another spidorpion behind me.

  They’d cornered me.

  I was going to die as a nighttime snack.

  But
...

  The second one moved around me, joining the first, who lifted one of his front legs and...pointed? He was telling me where to go? I...that couldn’t be right. Unless he wanted to usher me to his nest, where a million of his spidorpion children would feast on my remains for days to come.

  Left with no other choice, I followed his preferred direction, walking...running...finally, I came to the door that led to the secret passage.

  As soon as I entered my bedroom, I quietly shut the door and leaned against it, trying to catch my breath. The dragons slept on as my mind whirled. Come what may, I couldn’t leave Saxon in the dark any longer. I had to tell him the truth about Leonora. He needed to know the phantom was making secret plans with the warlock, so he could mount a defense.

  Yes. I nodded. I would do it. I would tell him first thing this morning, before his romantic courtship with Dior. And distract him from his purpose?

  I wouldn’t be doing either of us any good.

  So. I’d tell him after the courtship...and find out what he expected from me in the process. What he wanted.

  I paced for hours. By the time sunlight filtered through a crack in the window drapes, I was tired and fried but resolved.

  I hadn’t changed my mind. I would tell him. I even had a plan. I would go to his tent before the courtship. I would apologize for leaving him a note last night and not facing him then. I would wait for him to return from the courtship. I would tell him the truth. That was the order, the only parts I could control. What happened afterward was up to Saxon.

  If he agreed, we could work together to try to end Leonora. And figure out a plan if we failed.

  As the dragons slept on, I bathed, brushed my teeth and hair, then dressed in a clean mourning gown. I entered the secret passage once more, taking the same staircase, but stopping in front of each room to peer through little holes, wondering where to exit. Servants were beginning the day’s chores. Diamond vases were being dusted. Velvet curtains were beaten with sticks, removing dust and debris. Candles were lit.

  Turned out I didn’t have to exit through a room. The passage took me right outside. The sun framed the back of the palace, creating a halo effect, casting shades of pink and purple over the cobblestone path that led to the royal stable. A picturesque building with dark wood and copper framing.

  I gathered a bridle and headed for a stall, only to smack into Eve.

  The beautiful avian gave me a toothy grin. “Your stamina has vastly improved, but your observational skills require more work.”

  I picked up the bridle I’d dropped upon collision. “Did Saxon send you to follow me?”

  “Where are you headed?” she asked, ignoring my question.

  I’d take that as a yes. “Saxon’s tent.” Would I find him angry with me? Hurt? Understanding? Which did I prefer? “Will you transport me?” It would save time.

  “Happy to.” She leaned a shoulder against a wooden beam, a calculating gleam in her silver eyes. “For a price.”

  “What do you want?” I asked, and sighed.

  “The sword and dagger you gave to Saxon. I want my own.”

  I pursed my lips. While I loved that my reputation for quality weaponry was already spreading, I didn’t want to set a precedent and charge too little for my creations. Yes, I wanted to get to Saxon as quickly as possible, but I was a mother now. I had babies to feed. When I could make a sell, I was going to make a sell. “Though I’m extremely humble about the greatness of my skill—”

  “Extremely humble?”

  “—I know my work is too valuable to be traded for a ten-minute air ride.”

  A skittering sound registered, and I had the same reaction I’d had last night: a hiss of breath as every inch of me tensed. A spidorpion—the spidorpion?—crept along the beam Eve was leaning against. “Um... Eve? Don’t look now but—”

  The fist-size creature hopped onto her shoulder—a shoulder she hiked as if she hadn’t a care.

  “You’re wearing a spidorpion,” I bellowed.

  “And he’s one minute late, the tardy little darling. His name is Phobia, and your look of horror is hurting his feelings.” She reached up to pet his head. Pet. His. Head. “What do you want for the weapons?”

  To not die as a buffet breakfast? “The ride and a gold coin.”

  “Deal.” The spidorpion raced down her arm. An arm she slowly lifted, palm up. He settled in the crevasse of her fingers, and she brought him to her face for a kiss. As I gaped, she helped him resettle on the beam. Then, she wrapped an arm around my waist and transported me to the inside of Saxon’s tent.

  Dizziness nearly tipped me over, but I managed to stay upright. “How did you do that? There was no voice magic involved to make me lose track of time. No command telling me to instantly appear where I wanted to be.”

  “I don’t have voice magic. I have energy magic, like Ophelia.”

  Ohhh. That made sense, and yet there was something about Eve’s tone that suggested she was saying more than she was saying. But what?

  “Saxon isn’t here,” she said. “His guards surround the tent, though, and they know they’ll be executed if they harm you. You’re safe here, and I have duties to attend—apparently I’ve got to go make a gold coin. Deuces.” With another wink, she vanished, leaving me alone.

  Where was Saxon? What was he doing? Preparing for the courtship?

  Deep breath in, out. It was okay. Everything was okay.

  Stupid fate. So dumb.

  A commotion erupted outside. A stampede of footsteps. A woman snapped, “The time for change has come. Prince Saxon can no longer be trusted as our sovereign. As a Skylair, I am seizing control from my brother at the tournament’s end. Move aside, or consider yourself a traitor to the crown.”

  “He isn’t here, Princess,” a male replied. “He—”

  “I know he isn’t here. Move. Aside.”

  Shock waves coursed through me, and I tripped backward. Tempest stalked inside the tent a few seconds later, her gaze scanning. She ground to a stop when she spotted me, and grinned as if I’d been expected. Queen Raven entered and stopped behind her daughter, her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. Then both females grinned with relish.

  “Well, well, well. The warlock was right,” Raven said. “Ashleigh was indeed waiting in the tent this morning.”

  Heart galloping, I called, “Guards! Guards!” But my shouts did no good, the magical sound barrier preventing my voice from escaping the inside of the tent.

  Fear threatened to paralyze me as one female moved in front of me, and the other moved behind me. They walked a circle around me.

  “Saxon doesn’t want—” I began.

  “You don’t get to speak his name, girl,” the queen hissed. “We know who you are.”

  Not me. But, if I told them that I was possessed by a phantom, they would certainly kill me to try to kill her. If they believed me at all. “I’m not going to harm your son, or your people.”

  But Leonora might.

  “You’re right about that,” Raven said, gleeful. “You aren’t going to harm any avian. We won’t let you.”

  Tempest yanked my arms behind my back and shackled my wrists with a metal cuff. With a hard shove, she sent me stumbling forward. Both females laughed as I crash-landed on one of my shoulders, pain exploding through the joint.

  Tears blurred my vision, but I blinked them back and spat out grains of dirt. My stomach protested as I labored to my feet. “Saxon killed the last avian who dared to attack me.”

  Tempest purred, “So sure he cares about you? He’s currently with your stepsister. The king sent word before sunrise. Saxon is the first to try to win Dior’s heart.” Another slow grin. “Who says he’ll learn what happened to you...or ever find your body?”

  They planned to kill me, even without knowing about the phantom?

  They lunged. In a bli
nd panic, I kicked my leg to ward off their approach. Tempest went low, avoiding the strike and whisking my remaining leg off the ground at the same time. I toppled, losing my breath on impact. Before I could stand, Raven fisted my hair and yanked me to my knees.

  I wrenched back. It did no good. Tempest kicked me in the stomach, what little air I’d regained exploding from my lungs.

  As I hunched over, desperate for oxygen, the queen stomped on my ankles, breaking one of the bones. Searing agony consumed me, and I almost vomited. I alternated between panting, gagging, and spitting bile.

  Both avian laughed and walked another circle around me.

  Dizzy, I tried to stand with only one foot. Almost there...

  “Aw. Look at the evil witch,” Tempest taunted. “So helpless. You can’t even stand. Do you really think you’re good enough to sit beside an avian king?”

  My only working leg gave out, and I collapsed. I couldn’t stand. I’d have to crawl. Inching forward, every movement excruciating...another inch.

  “Dior will make a fine mate for him,” Raven said, bending down to squeeze my broken ankle until I could contain the vomit no longer. “She isn’t the bane of avian existence.”

  Moving at an incredible speed, Tempest performed a full spin directly in front of me, flaring and retracting her wings. When she stilled, she grinned at me expectantly.

  Sharp stings registered all over my chest and thighs. So sharp they dulled the agony in my ankle. I glanced down, shocked cold. Her wings. The joint hooks. They’d sliced me in multiple places, blood now soaking my clothes.

  I shook so hard it felt as if the entire world were trembling. I threw a glance toward the door. I needed help. Someone. Anyone. “Saxon and I called a truce.” I slurred the words.

  “Saxon isn’t going to get what he wants. He’s going to get what he needs.” Raven glided around me, getting in my face. “Because of you, his father feared what he would do if the boy found you again. Because of you, my son lost his family and his home. Because of you, he’s losing his crown. Now, here you are, ripe for a new death. The one you deserve.”