The Evil Queen (The Forest of Good and Evil)

by Gena Showalter

  “But,” I said, “I’m a better person than you are. Clearly. I have mercy.” I wasn’t evil, and I would prove it. “I will allow you to live. After I find Hartly, I’ll even go to your kingdom and save your father. On my terms. If I can. I’ll syphon from healers, if they’ll let me.” I wouldn’t kill them.

  I made no mention of my plans for Ophelia and Noel. I hadn’t yet worked through the details.

  “Think of the irony,” I said. “You despise the sorcerian, yet it is a sorceress who will save your father.”

  Tendons in Roth’s neck pulled taut, his pulse hammering.

  I sighed with faux regret. “Well, I must be off. Things to do, other people to save.”

  His eyes promised, I will find you.

  My grin replied, You can try.

  I moved to the tent’s exit and paused. Should I make a pit stop in Truly’s tent and speak with her one last time?

  Despite our differences, I loved her. And, whether she accepted it or not, she needed me. One day others would find out about her connection to the sorcerian.

  So, yes. I would make a pit stop. First, I had to get past Vikander and Saxon. They stood outside the prince’s tent, waiting for his next set of orders.

  My ears twitched, their whispered voices drifting on the breeze...

  “—certainly picked the right female,” Saxon was saying. “She makes him laugh. He never laughs. The problem is, amusement is addictive. I fear he’ll find a reason to forgive her.”

  “Let me put your mind at ease,” Vikander replied. “He won’t forgive her because she makes him laugh. He’ll do it because he wants to bed her. I know romantic entanglements outside of marriages, rituals and ceremonies are forbidden to avian, but I thought I’d taught you the signs of amour.”

  Bed me? The parasite? The leech? I wished!

  Fool! I had one way out of here—illusion magic. The guys knew I could become invisible, and they might be on the lookout for footprints and the like. I’d have to go a different route.

  Still linked to Roth, I pictured what I wanted and waved my hand. Between blinks, his image was superimposed over mine. Wow! My hands appeared so much bigger, so much darker, with a light dusting of hair.

  I glanced at Roth over my shoulder and grinned. “Admit it.” Sweet! I even had Roth’s deep tenor. “You’re more attracted to me right now.”

  The vein in his forehead throbbed. The muscle under his eye jumped faster. His hands remained balled.

  “Tsk, tsk,” I whispered, just in case the others listened in. “Careful or you’ll have a stroke.”

  I turned away before Roth could castigate me with his gaze. Showtime. I am the freaking Prince of freaking Sevón. Confidence matters. Chin lifted, scowl and broody arrogance in place. Let’s do this.

  Hoping no one could hear the thunder of my heartbeat, I stomped out of the tent. The fairy and avian shot to attention, each one speaking over the other.

  Vikander: “What did you learn?”

  Saxon: “What is the plan?”

  I held up a hand in a bid for silence. As soon as they complied, I said, “Go to your tents. Now.”

  Though they appeared confused, they didn’t protest. They simply obeyed.

  I’ve got this. I marched into Truly’s tent, where she paced back and forth, once again wringing her hands.

  The moment she spotted me—I mean Roth—she skidded to a stop. “D-did you kill her?”

  Would you care if he did? “No one is killing anyone tonight.” Very softly, I added, “I’m not the prince. I’m Everly, and I’m leaving this camp. Any interest in coming with me?”

  “Roth,” she said, and it was clear she hadn’t listened. She stepped toward me, paused, then took another step. Tears had reddened her eyes and streaked her cheeks. “I know my opinion has little sway with you, but I need you to hear me. You should not kill her. Death is permanent. You can’t change your mind after it’s done.”

  Not exactly a declaration of love, but a good start. Taking a gamble, I waved a hand over myself, magically erasing the illusion.

  She gasped and stumbled back. “Everly?”

  “The one and only. Like I said before, our cousin needs rescuing. Once she’s safe, I’ll heal Roth’s father. If I can. You can come with me.” Please, come with me. “We can do this together.”

  “I... No.” She shook her head, bi-colored hair swishing over her shoulders. “I won’t go.”

  Another rejection, as expected. No big deal. Move on. “Very well. I guess this is goodbye, then. If something happens to me, know that I love you, and I wish you the happiest of happily-ever-afters.”

  As Truly trembled more forcibly, I turned away before my willpower deserted me. Different noises erupted outside the tent. Voices...hushed, rushed conversations...footsteps. Dang it! Vikander and Saxon had already figured out the truth.

  No matter. To catch me, they’d have to find me. I waved a hand, conjuring invisibility, old faithful. If they found my footprints, they found my footprints. The risk could lead to a great reward. Freedom!

  I bolted from the tent without delay and darted into the forest...and slowed.

  I tried to quicken my pace but continued to slow. Come on, come on!

  Finally, I stopped altogether. Though I fought, sweat beading on my brow, I couldn’t move. My feet planted like cinder blocks. I lost my hold on the illusion, and I was too panicked to get it back. Dang, dang, dang.

  Silly Everly. Roth’s compulsion remained in play. I couldn’t escape.

  Heavy footfalls escalated in volume, until they reminded me of thunder. I even heard the rasps of my pursuer’s breath...the swish of leaves... Birds took flight, and insects quieted. Who would I face? The fairy or the avian? Did it matter? The end result remained the same: back to Roth I go.

  I bit my tongue, tasting blood. I’d failed Hartly, and I’d failed myself. All I could do now? Brace for impact.

  25

  Kiss me once, kiss me twice.

  I will be your favorite vice.

  A hard weight slammed into me, knocking me down. My pursuer hadn’t realized I’d stopped, obviously, or he might not have sacked me like a quarterback.

  I was flipped midair, allowing my captor to absorb the worst of the impact and cushion my fall. He didn’t hesitate to roll me to my back, however, pinning me with his weight.

  Roth!

  From chest to toes, he stretched atop me. We glared at each other, our breaths ragged. Azure mist rolled through the forest, underscoring the rugged masculinity of his features. I saw fury...and desire?

  “How is this possible?” I demanded.

  He snarled but didn’t speak. Because he couldn’t speak. I had to give him permission first.

  “Tell me,” I demanded. “Speak.”

  The explanation came roaring from his tongue. “The bane of any compulsion? Other people. They are never bound by the same constrictions. Vikander sensed something was off and snuck into my tent. I couldn’t move from the pallet on my own, so he carried me out. I couldn’t follow you on my own, so Saxon flew me overhead.”

  Ugh. I’d made some beginner’s mistakes. My commands should have been more specific. Noted. I would do better this time.

  I prepared to issue another round of commands, but the POS beat me to the punch, growling, “You will not compel me again. You will not compel my men or Princess Truly. You will not syphon from me, my family or my friends. Or Noel or Ophelia. Or the citizens of Sevón.”

  The newest compulsion brutally murdered the words on my tongue. “If I can’t syphon,” I grated, “I can’t protect myself.”

  I waited, hoping he would retract his final demand...

  He went a step further—in the other direction. “To ensure you will not syphon from anyone I did not name, you will wear a torque,” he said. “No longer will you be a danger to
others.”

  Ignore the panic, forge ahead. I wouldn’t give this smug prince the satisfaction of asking what a torque was, or how it worked. Hate him!

  Using my silkiest tone, I said, “Look at you, loving your magic. If you lost the ability to compel, would you try to power-up in other ways, like, say, hurting innocent people? No. Not the mighty Roth. What if you had to hurt others to save your father or Farrah? Would you do it then?”

  His lashes nearly fused. “Still unrepentant. Still proud of your actions.”

  Proud? No. “Should I apologize for doing everything possible to escape my jailer? Should I be drawn and quartered for attempting to save myself? No, that isn’t terrible enough. The punishment should fit the crimes. I should be forced to listen to you prattle on about how evil I am. Yeah. That’s the winner. That’ll learn me real good.”

  Why didn’t I just keep my mouth shut? Why did I continue to needle him?

  Did I want him to snap?

  Yes! Then the longing for him would fade.

  “You represent everything I despise,” he hissed.

  The insult might have hurt more if I hadn’t felt the evidence of his desire pressed against my belly. “Do I, then?” I all but purred. “Are you sure?” I’d seen this boy in battle. He’d been steady as a rock. Afterward, he’d killed his friend without hesitation. Now? With me? He trembled. I had power over him. Him! The strongest person I’d ever met. Delicious, irresistible power, no magic required.

  The knowledge softened and emboldened me. I added, “For the sake of accuracy, let’s ask the monster in your pants.”

  Growling noises rumbled in his chest. He looked ravenous, and dang if it didn’t awaken an answering hunger in me.

  “By the way,” I said, “your face didn’t get the memo. The way you’re looking at me...as if I’m everything you’ve ever craved...” Dang it! That look started to mess with my head and make me wish for things I shouldn’t want. Like forgiveness and a second chance. “You don’t hate me, princeling. You hate that I’m still dressed.”

  “I will not crave a girl like you. I refuse.” His muscles seemed to plump with aggression. “You are too bold, unpredictable and brash.”

  In other words, nothing like Annica, the lady-in-waiting he’d dated. Another insult blunted by his physical reaction to me. Blown pupils. High color. He clamored for every breath.

  “Are you insulting me,” I quipped, “or helping me draft a résumé?” Prince Roth Charmaine could refuse to crave me for a freaking eternity, but he already freaking craved me.

  Expression tormented, he said, “I am fighting for my life.”

  I hadn’t experienced pangs of regret since I’d let go of my grief. Now? Pang, pang, pang. They wouldn’t stop. “You prefer wilting flowers?” I wanted to stroke my fingers through his hair, wanted to sweep my tongue into his mouth and slowly rip off his clothes. Fool! “Do you dream of wilting flowers?”

  He ignored the questions, instead expanding the list of my perceived faults. “You are selfish. Greedy.”

  “I think you mean protective and determined.”

  “Devious. Untrustworthy.”

  “To my enemies, yes. I’m all of those things and more.”

  “Shameless,” he spat.

  “Don’t forget unrepentant.” As I spoke, his attention remained fixed on my lips. Lips I wetted languidly, dragging a ragged groan from him. “Poor Roth. How hard it must be to admire the very thing you claim to hate.”

  Who am I? When had I learned to tease and taunt like this?

  Voice rough, he said, “You are wrong for me in every way.”

  My heart missed a beat, my lungs constricted, my skin pulled taut over my bones and rational thought fled. “I’m sure you’re right...but you crave me anyway. Maybe you crave me because of those things.”

  He peered at my lips, so I wetted them. “Lord help me,” he murmured, “I do crave you anyway.”

  The admission shocked me. “Does my Prince Charming want to be bad? We should star in a reality show. Fairy tale princes gone wild.”

  “Bad. Yes. Let this be bad.” With a groan of surrender, he pressed our lips together and thrust his tongue into my mouth.

  The smooth taste of whiskey seduced my senses. I wanted more, needed it, my resistance gone. Who was I kidding? My resistance had fled long ago. Control? I had none. The past and future ceased to exist. I became hyperaware of Roth, clinging to him. Clinging to this one perfect moment, losing myself...never wanting to be found again.

  I was desperate for more, for all, for everything. No, no. I wanted freedom. I dang sure wouldn’t offer this boy something he hadn’t earned and didn’t deserve. Any second now, I would wrench away, laugh cruelly and call him a fool for falling for my act.

  Any second...

  After everything he’d done, how could I want him? I didn’t know. But...

  I did. I wanted him. Frantic, fevered, I poured myself into the kiss. Forget wrenching away. I’d already jumped off the bridge, so to speak. A crash was inevitable. Why not enjoy the fall?

  When he remembered what I was—and he would—he would shove me aside. He desired my body, yes, but he didn’t like the rest of me. Understandable. I was a chink in his emotional armor. Because of course the big bad sorceress used magic to trick him into playing a rousing game of tonsil hockey.

  He lifted his head to stare at me, as if starved for another glimpse of my face. His eyelids hooded. In the golden glow of moonlight, arousal stamped the planes and hollows of his face.

  No, don’t stop. Not now. Wasn’t done, need more.

  Between panting breaths, he said, “You taste like apples. As sweet as you smell. You are the Apple of Life and Death, Everly.”

  No. Absolutely not.

  But maybe?

  Worry later. Savor now. Already I could hear a new countdown clock in my head. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

  “Stop talking,” I said, sounding drunk. His heady scent fogged my head. “Start kissing.”

  “What are you doing to me?” he demanded.

  See? Already he sought some way to blame me for his desire. “I’m using magic to rouse your passions. Obviously.”

  He groaned again, a sound of pure agony. “Don’t stop.”

  I jolted, astounded by his willingness. He jolted, too.

  He pressed his forehead against mine and inhaled my air. “You should walk away,” he said. “You should return to camp before we do something we’ll forever regret.”

  “I think we’ll regret this regardless.” With one hand, I sank my nails into his back, his thin tunic offering little resistance. With my other hand, I yanked his head closer to mine. “But let’s make sure.”

  He claimed my lips once again, licking into my mouth, sucking on my tongue. Our breaths turned ragged.

  He cupped my backside, using his hips to wedge my legs farther apart, then rocked against me. I gasped, pleasure storming through me. More kissing, tongues seeking.

  I tugged on his hair and rubbed the softest part of me against the hardest part of him. My blood morphed into kerosene, and he lit a match. I burned for him. Any lingering reservations wafted away in a puff of smoke.

  But...this wasn’t enough. Not for either of us. He angled my head and took my mouth deeper, devouring me as if he couldn’t get enough. As if I was the last meal before his execution. As if he’d finally found the treasure he’d sought his entire life. As if the world began and ended with me.

  As if I meant something.

  But the kiss was a lie. I meant nothing to this boy. Less than nothing. Why had I insisted we keep going?

  To Roth, I would forever be a parasite.

  I should pull away, as originally planned. Why wait for him to do it? I should walk, no, run, as fast as my feet would carry me. I would be the one to reject him.

  He slanted a kiss aga
inst the corner of my mouth, peppered sweet little nips along my jaw and ran the lobe of my ear between his teeth. I moaned and writhed—so good!—and prepared to stop him...

  He trailed his fingertips down the column of my throat...across my collarbone...lower...

  Shivers. Goose bumps. “More,” I begged. Except, I became aware of swishing leaves, two pairs of footsteps.

  I stiffened and managed to rasp, “Incoming.”

  Ever the warrior, Roth set me on my feet and unsheathed a dagger. Sweat sheened his brow, and a flush painted his cheeks. He labored for every breath. So did I.

  When he stepped in front of me, becoming my shield, I felt like a little girl at Christmas. Hopeful. Maybe we could work through our differences after all.

  Roth wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, expunging any trace of our kiss, and my hope withered. Another rejection, worse than the last. I nearly wept with mortification and resentment.

  How could I kiss someone who despised me? Did I have no self-respect?

  A stupid tear fell unchecked, but I hastily wiped it away. This didn’t matter. He didn’t matter.

  Vikander guided Truly past the trees, a sword in his hand. Anger crackled in his eyes, and blood and dirt smeared his torso. Truly wore just as much blood and dirt. She also had bruises on her wrists.

  “What happened?” Roth demanded. “Where’s Saxon?”

  I rushed around the prince to examine my twin. “Are you all right?” The bow arched over her shoulder. The quiver and never-empty canteen of water hung at her side.

  “I—I am fine.” Her chin trembled. “But Saxon...”

  “The centaurs found us,” Vikander explained. “Everything happened so fast. They appeared out of nowhere.” He threw a glance over his shoulder, checking to make sure he hadn’t been tracked. “They caught the princess, but Saxon snatched her back. In the process, he was injured and knocked out. The bastards fled with him. They plan to offer him in trade, I’m sure. Saxon for Everly.”

  “They dare harm my people?” The patent stillness of a predator came over Roth. He’d selected the night’s prey, and it wasn’t me. I’d been granted a reprieve. “Escort Everly and Truly to the palace. Lock Everly in the tower. She isn’t to leave, but she isn’t to be hurt, either. Make sure she’s given food and water. I’ll deal with her as soon as I’ve found Saxon.”