The Evil Queen (The Forest of Good and Evil)

by Gena Showalter

  “Hartly,” he snapped again, his tolerance eradicated. “Everly is stronger than you think. She can emerge from any battle victorious. Let her. Why risk yourself for the girl who killed your mother?”

  I sucked in a breath, a dagger of pain nearly flaying me alive.

  Hartly jutted her chin. “I do not blame Everly for what happened. Had you or Mom warned us... Well, it doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.” A fat teardrop slid down her cheek. “Goodbye, Nicolas. I love you, and I hope to see you soon.”

  Reeling...

  My wonderful, amazing sister still loved me, her support unwavering.

  Smug, the witch clasped Hartly’s shoulder, then waved her free hand. A second later, darkness dominated the glass. Then Hartly, Thor and Ophelia reappeared, surrounded by trees and a familiar azure glow, hundreds of animals vying for my sister’s attention.

  She laughed and spun. “I’m here. I’m really here!”

  My foreboding skyrocketed. Yes, she was here. Without protection and as ignorant as I was.

  “Are you ready to meet your troll?” Ophelia asked.

  She nibbled on her bottom lip. “You swear Thor won’t be hurt?”

  “I do. I swear it.”

  “Then yes.” Hartly shuddered but squared her shoulders. “I’m ready to meet the troll commander and save my sister.”

  22

  Hurting others comes with a great cost.

  Piece after piece of your heart, until you are lost.

  Had I seen into the past? Or the present? Either way...

  On a mission to find Hartly, I jolted upright. What if she wasn’t the commander’s maritus? Another word for “soul mate,” I’d bet. What if he hurt her?

  I yanked on my pants and boots, terror and rage battling inside me. Terror centered around Hartly’s well-being. Rage wanted to punish Ophelia for her betrayal.

  My birthmark began to burn, signaling an incoming call from Noel.

  —I know you don’t understand why.—

  I spit curses at her before snapping, You’re right. I don’t understand why you would put an innocent girl in danger.

  —For the salvation of the land, sacrifices must be made. I told you, war comes. Good against evil. I’ve seen what happens if evil wins. So I need you to trust me, your mediocre friend.—

  I don’t care about coming wars. I care about my family. And you just put my family in danger. Pause. Deep breath. When did Hartly arrive?

  —When else? The very day Noel had always planned.—

  Blood roared inside my ears, my head going light. Days. My sister had been with the trolls for days, while I’d vacationed with Truly and Roth. Why am I just now sensing trouble?

  —Because things aren’t going as planned?—

  My temper sharpened. We’re done. Don’t contact me again.

  —Why are you so upset? I’ve seen Hartly’s future. As long as she remains in the troll dimension, she doesn’t just survive. She thrives.—

  You’re still talking?

  —Oh, Everly. Is this really the hill you want to die upon? Fair warning. Every decision has a consequence, and you’re not gonna like this one.—

  My birthmark cooled.

  Screw her! I grabbed my cloak and did a quick pat-down. Necklace, wrist cuffs and daggers. Check, check, check.

  Truly slept on, undisturbed.

  Still linked to Roth, I waved my hand over the compact and whispered, “Show me the best path to reach Hartly.”

  New ripples, then an aerial view of the camp appeared, a path highlighted, again like GPS on a smartphone. We were so close! Only a five-minute run apart.

  Urgency invaded my bones. I waved a hand a second time, cloaking myself with invisibility, then raced out of the tent. Moonlight painted the land in black-gold. The temperature had dropped significantly, a storm brewing. Frost drizzled the trees.

  Charged by adrenaline and Roth’s power, I quickened my pace, passing Vikander, sprinting around trees and rocks, jumping over vines. No shouts of alarm sounded; relief gave my feet wings.

  Another fifty steps, and I would reach Hartly...

  Faster... I huffed and puffed. My nose burned. My lungs, too. Red eyes watched me from the trees. Buttress roots even slithered out of my way. Almost there...

  Someone tall, dark and leanly muscled stepped into my path. Unable to slow my momentum, I slammed into him and ricocheted backward. When I landed on my butt, I lost my invisibility. I jumped right back up, swinging my fists.

  He moved out of the line of fire and into a beam of moonlight, revealing familiar features. Dark blond hair, golden skin and amber eyes.

  “Nicolas?” I said and gasped. He wore a black tunic and leather pants, not the button-down and slacks I’d seen him in only minutes before.

  “None other.”

  I threw myself into his arms, shocked but happy. And guilty! Why had I ever doubted him? “How are you here? I saw the witch take Hartly and leave you behind.” Yes, he’d syphoned from her, but he’d lost the connection as soon as she’d returned to Enchantia. He couldn’t syphon from a distance the way I could. Or could he?

  “I already had a way home. I would not have traveled to the mortal world without one,” he said. “I chose not to use it until the witch came for Hartly.”

  “Where is she? Do you know?” According to the map, she should be five feet away.

  “I have been searching for days. Tracked her here, then lost her trail.”

  Fear devoured my calm in one tasty bite. “The mirror says she’s here.”

  “Here but not here. The trolls must have taken her to another dimension. With the witch’s help.”

  Hate the witch! Will kill Ophelia for this.

  As long as she’s in the troll dimension, she won’t just survive. She’ll thrive.

  “We need to find the doorway.” Or shift the curtain.

  “Not a doorway. All access points are sealed with magic. We need a portal and a key.”

  Like, a literal key? “Are you still linked to Ophelia? Can you syphon from her, and use her magic to create what we need?”

  “I have saved the power I took from her, but it’s a minute amount. Not nearly enough.” He ran a hand over his face. “I must set up another altilium.”

  “You can create a portal and key if you have an altilium?”

  “If I choose the right members, yes.”

  “I’ll...help.” For Hartly? Anything.

  He projected surprise. “I’ve been gone so long, I don’t yet know who can do what.”

  “What type of magic do you need the members to wield?”

  Rather than answer, he said, “In the mortal world, I offered shelter to Enchantian refugees, as long as they spilled information about royals and witches. That is what I was doing when Aubrey... When she died.” His voice cracked, and he pulled his gaze from me as if he couldn’t bear to face me. “The information has proven faulty, however. In the past few months, many royals have passed away.”

  “If it’s the last thing I do, I will find and save Hartly.” Had Noel told the truth about her safety? If I had to syphon from her and Ophelia, I would.

  “You should go, niece,” he said. “I will stay. I will find her.”

  Niece. “Are you really my uncle by blood?” More staunchly tied to me than Aubrey, my aunt by marriage.

  “I am, though not even Aubrey knew it. Not until the end.” A flash of grief in his eyes, quickly gone. “Years ago, an oracle found you and sold the information to your father. Stephan had always regretted his inability to kill the babies conceived after the consumption of his apples. He’d tried with all but Truly, of course, yet fate always stepped in, ensuring someone showed up and saved the children every time. He asked me to journey to the mortal world—to behead you.”

  Why, why, why did the remi
nder still hurt?

  “I fell in love with Aubrey instead,” he continued, “and decided to stay in the mortal world, lest the king send someone else to kill you. And he did, time and time again. Your mother never knew, because I took care of it. I should have forced her to return to Enchantia before...”

  Before I killed her.

  And he despised me for it. I saw it in his eyes, heard it in his voice, and I couldn’t blame him.

  “You need to stay away from Hartly,” he said, “or she will suffer the same fate.”

  I wrapped my arms around my middle and just...shattered. Was he right? If I harmed Hartly, I wouldn’t recover. Ever.

  The frantic thump-thump of footsteps disrupted the quiet. Panic seized me, but there was no time to act. Roth and Saxon exploded past the trees, their swords drawn.

  The prince noticed me, then Nicolas, worry and relief transmuting into rage and loathing. He halted in front of me, using his body as a shield.

  Saxon flew over the sorcerer and landed behind him.

  Tyler revealed his presence, zooming from the inky darkness to flank the avian, pressing the tip of a sword into Saxon’s neck.

  “Don’t!” I shouted. “No one has to get hurt today.”

  “You.” Accusation turned the word into a dark curse as Roth glared at Nicolas. “The overlord’s son. I have waited years to face you. Now here you are, daring to abduct someone under my protection—daring to syphon my power.”

  I struggled to breathe, in, out, in, out, every exhalation accompanied by a wheeze. Had Nicolas helped imprison Roth and his family?

  “I dare many things, oh mighty Prince of Sevón,” my stepdad said, his voice pure silk. “Tonight, abduction and syphoning are not among them.”

  Shame and guilt twined. Letting Nicolas take the fall for my crime would be so easy. And because of their past interactions, Roth would believe my stepdad culpable, no matter what he claimed. The temptation...

  I had a choice. I could continue keeping my origins a secret—and remain fearful of Roth’s reaction, like a coward—or I could admit the truth, as I’d needed to do for days.

  Besides, why did the opinion of someone who might come to despise me matter?

  Please, don’t despise me.

  “He didn’t steal from you, Roth,” I said, shaking in my boots. “I did. I—I am a sorceress. I am Nicolas’s niece and stepdaughter.”

  Comprehension seemed to dawn in waves. First, he radiated shock. Then he stiffened. Then he tightened his grip on the sword hilt. His muscles knotted, and rage electrified the air.

  “Roth,” I croaked. “Please don’t—”

  “I’ll deal with you in a moment.” He glared at Nicolas. “I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

  “Perhaps,” my stepdad said, “but you are too weak to succeed.”

  Too weak, thanks to me. Strangling...

  “I’d link and make you weaker, but it seems I’ve been link-blocked.” Nicolas winked at me and said, “Good girl. Now be a better girl and deal with your new pet. Keep him out of my way, and I’ll rescue your sister.”

  Only one sorcerian link at a time? So much to learn.

  My stepdad walked backward. He was about to knock into Saxon—

  Nope. He ghosted through the avian and sidled up to Tyler, rattling me. “I will do whatever proves necessary to help Hartly,” he said. “Will you?”

  The two sorcerers vanished in a blink, leaving me to wonder if they wielded illusion magic, too, or if they could teleport. How many magical abilities did they wield?

  Why leave me, really? Because I was well trained in self-defensive and able to care for myself, or because they did, in fact, need me to keep Roth busy?

  Either way, I was on my own.

  Roth wasted no time, spinning to face me, his eyes as frosty as his mountains. Guess it was time to deal with me.

  “You stole power from me, weakening me minutes before I faced a hated foe,” he snapped.

  “I did.” I squeezed my eyelids closed. Able to breathe again, I inhaled deeply, exhaled heavily. What to do? A lie might help tonight’s situation, but it would taint every other encounter we ever had. “I’m worried about my sister. I didn’t know Nicolas had come—”

  “I told you I would help Hartly,” he interjected. “You could have asked me for power.”

  “Like you would have said yes. You kill sorcerian, Roth, you don’t aid them.” I moved closer, hoping to touch him. Needing to. “What I did was wrong. I knew it, but I did it anyway. A mistake I regret with every fiber of my being. I’m sorry I hurt you, but I’m not sorry I learned about my sister.”

  He sprang out of range, avoiding contact. “You regret it with every fiber of your sorcerian being.” Was that disgust in his eyes, in his voice? Or despair? “You hid your origins from me.”

  “Think of everything you’ve said about the sorcerian. Can you blame me?”

  “You used me,” he snarled. “From the beginning, I was a means to an end.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Never.”

  “You are a sorceress. Related to the son of the man who abducted and tortured my family, who laughed as we suffered and ignored us when we begged for help. Like him, like them all, you steal from others with no thought for the well-being of your victims.”

  His words hit me like fists. Punch, punch, punch. I recoiled, just kind of crumpling into myself, instinct ensuring I protected my vital organs.

  I thought I’d shattered before. Wrong. “I’ve been with you for weeks,” I croaked. “I syphoned from you once. Once!”

  “You are evil. You are—” His eyes widened, and I knew. He’d just pegged me as the Evil Queen.

  “I didn’t pick my lineage out of a catalog.” I hadn’t signed up for Evil Queen tryouts. “Fate chose for me. Why am I being punished?”

  “Fate didn’t choose to syphon from me tonight. You did.”

  That was fair. A dagger to the gut, but fair. My throat clogged. I blinked back tears and choked back sobs. With my actions, I’d killed Roth’s affection for me, adding fuel to the fires of his hate...almost as if I’d fed him a poisonous apple.

  He would never forgive me, and I couldn’t blame him, either.

  Glaring at me, he said, “Bind her.” His frigid voice froze my soul.

  Wait. Did he say bind me?

  Saxon moved closer without a word.

  I leaped into motion, running fast...faster. But the avian dove on me, knocking me to the ground. Just before we landed, he drew my arms behind my back. Though I fought, twisting, punching, kicking, he secured my wrists together, using my own cuffs against me, wrapping the garrote wires around the leather.

  Landing jarred me and jumbled my thoughts. I was too frazzled to react as Saxon confiscated my daggers and compact.

  Roth observed the entire exchange, silent, his body like stone. His every breath was ragged, his hands fisting and unfisting.

  “Please don’t do this,” I whispered.

  Unfazed, he said, “The time for conversation is over.”

  Rejection. Anguish. Shock. They packed a punch as powerful as his words. “Why don’t you bind me yourself? Unless the big bad princeling is too afraid to handle his dream girl?”

  A muscle jumped beneath his eye, making me think he felt as I did. Rejected, anguished and shocked.

  Guilt punched me harder than anything else. I’d hurt him deeply, inexorably.

  If I could manage an illusion, I could escape, giving Roth time to calm while I searched for Hartly.

  Knowing action would unleash magic, I tried wiggling my fingers, but nothing happened. I tried yanking my wrists apart, but the wire sliced into my skin, the pain excruciating. I hissed and stilled. Okay. So. I needed full mobility to use my magic.

  “Just let me speak to Princess Truly,” I said, “then I’ll be on my
way. You’ll never have to see me again.” The moment the words left my tongue, I wanted to snatch them back.

  I didn’t want to cut him from my life. We could fix this.

  “Your word means nothing to me. Less than nothing.” He motioned to Saxon.

  The avian pulled me to my feet. I wrenched from him and lurched toward Roth.

  “Ophelia delivered Hartly to an army of trolls,” I rushed out. “Let me save her. I know I don’t deserve your trust, but I’m begging you to give it to me anyway.”

  Tension strung his body as tight as a bow. “With my voice, I can compel, forcing others to do anything I desire, even against their will. For years, I have refused to use my ability. Then you came along. When your head hurt, I told you to feel better, and you obeyed.”

  Fear iced my heart. “Please, Roth. Don’t—”

  Staring at me with brutal intensity, he said, “You will return to camp, Everly. You will not syphon from Vikander, Saxon or Truly. You will not hurt them, period. You will not escape. Go. Go now.”

  His voice...deep, husky and mesmerizing, far more potent than Vikander’s. Though I did everything in my power to remain in place, compulsion annihilated my free will. I placed one foot in front of the other, marching forward, heading back to camp, unable to stop myself.

  Dress for the job you’re going to want...the King of Compulsion’s obsession.

  Noel’s words. Roth, the King of Compulsion.

  If I was his obsession, I could get through to him. I had to get through to him. “I’m sorry for what I did to you,” I shouted. “Don’t punish Hartly for my mistake. She’s in danger. If something happens to her, I will blame you as much as Ophelia and Noel. We will become enemies.”

  “How have you not realized the truth?” he called, merciless. “We are already enemies.”

  23

  Time is of the essence and quickly running out.

  Fight, fight, fight and ditch the overgrown lout.

  Though I stumbled on my return to camp, I did not fall. Though tears filled my eyes, I did not cry. Though my world crashed and burned around me, I did not crumble again. I had breath, so I had hope. I had fury and hate. I would escape, and I would find Hartly. Somehow.