“I get it,” I interjected. “You’re telling me what happens next is going to hurt.” The fact that she knew my name, the day I would arrive, and the exact spot I would land, well, her power must be incredible.
“So smart!” She patted the top of my head. “I only wish you’d dressed for the job you’re going to want, not the job you’ve already got. Presentation matters!”
Uh...how was I supposed to respond to that? “What job am I going to want?”
“Queen of Hearts, yo? Wife, mother, obsession? Weapon? Shield? Alluring? Choices abound.” She winked at me. “Violet is in a snit, and the storm will only worsen. Go. Find shelter, then meet your mother. I’ll quill you in for an appointment tomorrow, when we patch up your wounds. Now, I must go. I promised Ophelia I’d meet her for transport home.”
“Wounds? What wounds?”
She waved my question away. “Oh! I almost forgot. I need to quill you in for five minutes from now, too. When I come a-knocking, answer. It’s only polite.” With a little wave, she rushed away, leaving me more confused than ever.
“Please stay,” I called. “I have more questions. Do you know anything about Nicolas Soren? What about the sorcerian?” I chased after her, only to stop. She’d vanished into the night.
As predicted, the storm worsened, the winds growing violent, soon hiding her footprints. I winced when grains pelted my cheeks.
Find shelter, Noel had said. Ten-four.
I drew the hood of Mom’s cloak up. To the left, a wall of storm clouds loomed, land and sky practically woven together. To the right, a single tent withstood the gale force, creating an oasis as bright and golden as the moonbeams.
The wind kicked up another notch, the bulk of scavengers darting off, avoiding the tent. Why?
Perhaps the queen waited inside? Only one way to find out.
I trudged forward, flinging sand with every step and fighting nerves. Soon I would interact with other Enchantians.
Mom should be here. She should—
I scrubbed the thought from my mind before it could elicit an emotional response and refocused. What had Noel said? You’re going to be so happy.
Oracles were descended from fairies, and fairies couldn’t lie. She’d foreseen my happiness, but only if I got stronger.
Well, sign me up for an extra helping of strength!
I reached my destination, surprised to find the entrance of the tent unguarded. As quietly as possible, I palmed my daggers, just in case, and slipped inside. My lungs rejoiced, the cloth blocking the winds.
I wiped the grit from my eyes, and the view crystalized. A scream lodged in my throat. Three horned, tusked brutes stood around a table soaked with crimson paint. They were eating—
I gagged. A human. They were eating a human. He lay on his back, his chest cracked open, his organs exposed. Sushi redefined. The crimson wasn’t paint, but blood.
A splish-splash sound assaulted my ears as the diners reached inside the man’s body to select an entrée.
What were these things?
A whimper joined the deluge of noise, but it wasn’t mine. I pressed a hand against my belly. The man was still alive.
Head spinning. I couldn’t leave him to suffer like this. I had to—Never mind. One of the brutes ripped out his heart, laughing with glee before devouring the still-beating organ.
Was this normal in Enchantia? Or just in Airaria? Did Queen Violet condone it?
Was I next?
Go, go, go! I spun but didn’t manage to take a single step. A larger male with tusks and horns stepped in my path, and I had to crane my head up to meet eyes as lovely as the star-filled sky outside.
Those eyes mesmerized me. Until I remembered the feast behind me, and panic surged anew. He was shirtless, displaying a barrel of a chest, a wealth of scars, tattoos and piercings. He had a prominent brow, beaked nose and pointy chin, every feature exaggerated to an extreme, making his face both nightmarishly grotesque and insanely beautiful.
Beak flipped back the hood of my cloak, his reflexes supernaturally fast. The panic sharpened, robbing me of wits. One strike from this brute and I’d be a goner.
He looked me over and nodded as if he’d just made a monumental decision. “I’ve always preferred the ugly ones, and you are uglier than most. You will spend the night here.”
Ugly? Me? Wait. What! Spend the night? I’d rather die.
You just might.
The other creatures laughed at his words. I made the mistake of glancing over my shoulder. Blood stained their teeth, and tissue clung to their gums.
The second the wires in my brain fired up again, I moved away from Beak. Plagued by tremors, I told him, “No, thanks. Mistake. Leaving.”
He crossed his arms, refusing to budge. All right. I brought out my secret weapon—my maniacal smile.
He did a double-take, then reached out to grab a fistful of my hair. Strands pulled, stinging my scalp, and I cried out.
“I wasn’t asking for permission, female.”
Fury torched my panic. My thoughts aligned. I had trained in self-defense for a reason.
Violence is not the answer.
Sometimes it is, Mom.
Like a spring, I jumped up, using his thigh as a step stool. With one hand, I grabbed hold of a tusk. With the other, I punched his nose. Jab, jab. Cartilage snapped and blood spurted.
He howled as he stumbled back. I released him and dropped to my feet, then shot outside, entering the storm. Lesson learned. I never should have come to Enchantia on my own. I would find Noel’s mirror and return home. When Ophelia returned, I might even tell her to hit the bricks. Introduce Hartly to cannibalistic brutes? No!
The only point in my favor? The gusty, dusty winds hid me from my pursuers. If they’d given chase. Had they? Ugh! I couldn’t see. My eyes felt like they were being scrubbed with a scouring pad. Every breath sandpapered my throat.
As I ran up a sand dune, the apple-shaped birthmark on my wrist heated, jolting me. That’s new.
—Knock, knock. Who’s there? It’s me! Your friendly, neighborhood oracle. Testing, testing, one, two, three.—
The distinct female voice filled my head, and I cringed. Noel. No, no. Only a delusion.
—I am Noel the Great and Mighty, not a delusion.—
Struggling to make sense of such an ability, I replied, Can you speak to everyone like this?
—Not usually, but we are apples plucked from the same tree and our roots run deep. Now, turn here. Or let the trolls catch up with you. Oh! I should probably tell you they’re fanged and venomized. One bite, and your brain will rot, you’ll turn into a rage-goblin and die in agony.—
Apples. Deep roots. Trolls. Uncertain but out of options, I followed her directions, heading for the wall of clouds. My heart raced faster than my feet. Almost there...so close... I labored against the gale force, certain I would blow away at any moment.
Why help me? I asked. I’d offered no payment.
—One day, you’ll return the favor. Destiny awaits.—
Destiny...a worry for later. Finally, blessedly, I slipped past the cool mist. Unfortunately, the winds didn’t die down, and the sands didn’t calm. I came upon another tent.
Noel twittered with excitement. —Go ahead. Enter and be amazed.—
Truth or lie? Good or bad? Let’s find out. Almost completely blinded, I patted the cloth until I found the opening. I stumbled inside, crashing to my knees. No winds, clean air. Relief!
Once again, I rubbed the grit from my eyes and assessed my new surroundings. My jaw almost unhinged. Enter and be amazed? Try flabbergasted, delighted and thrilled. Familiar faces greeted me, and I knew. This. This was the reason my heart had led me here.
Roth stood in the center of the spacious enclosure. Gashes and bruises marred his face. He pressed a booted foot into a fallen troll’s windpipe
and a blood-spattered sword between its legs.
Someone had cut off the troll’s hands. Both appendages rested beside his body, the fingers flared and curled, revealing a set of claws.
At the far right, Truly huddled atop a pallet of furs. Tears streaked her face. One of her eyes was swollen and discolored, and her bottom lip was split. Blood caked her chin.
Fury razed my delight, a fire-breathing monster beneath the surface of my skin. Someone had hurt my twin. Someone would pay.
A boy with shimmering dark brown skin, long black hair and lavender eyes cooed words of comfort while gently petting her hair. Was he the one her mother expected her to marry?
The winged boy—Saxon—stood next to the couple, glaring bloody murder at the troll. On the couple’s other side was a boy I’d never met. He reminded me of a living sunbeam, golden from head to toe. Scales decorated his arms, a small fin protruding from each elbow.
At any other time, those details would have fascinated me. Now? I was too busy contemplating the troll’s murder. I didn’t know Truly, and she didn’t know me, but I already loved her and wanted her protected always. Maybe it was the twin thing. Maybe it was the deep roots and apple thing Noel had mentioned. Whatever that meant.
Roth glanced up, and I must have been a frightful sight—uglier than most—because he did a double take. “You.”
Me? He recognized me?
The distraction cost us both.
The troll—I’d call him Stumpy—bucked, kicking the prince’s ankles together. As Roth toppled, the troll leaped on top of him.
Time slowed to a crawl. Stumpy used his bloody arms as hammers and whaled on Roth. Rather than shield his face, Roth swung his sword. The next time Stumpy struck, flesh met metal. Metal won, shearing off another layer of the fiend’s arm.
A hiss of pain, a growl of rage. Roth worked his legs between their bodies and shoved. The troll fell back but recovered quickly and hurled his body at the prince, teeth bared and ready to tear into his trachea.
Heart pounding, I lurched forward. Roth’s guards lurched forward, too. No way any of us would reach him in time.
He managed to block, but the battle raged on.
One of Nicolas’s first lessons echoed inside my head. Draw a weapon only if you’re ready to use it.
Was I ready to use my daggers?
Beyond. As fast as my reflexes would allow, I tossed one. My tremors screwed with my aim, but I still hit my mark, the blade embedding in Stumpy’s temple. He jolted, slumped over and crashed to the ground.
Realization. I had killed the troll.
I had killed, period. But...
I felt no guilt. Roth would live to see another day. I did feel remorse and wanted to vomit. How many people would mourn Stumpy’s loss? Had I taken him from a sibling? Loving parents?
Roth climbed to his feet, the scowl he gave me all, Why are you still here? It reminded me of the one he’d given the girlfriend—ex? One-night stand?—who’d lain naked in his bed.
I looked back over my shoulder, wondering if someone else had maybe, hopefully entered the tent. Nope. Just me.
Cloaked in darkness and danger, Roth advanced, grating, “Tell me who you are and what you’re doing in my tent. Refuse, and you won’t like what happens next.”
9
You can rest awhile, or you can fret.
Either way, your future is set.
I held my ground when Roth stopped a whisper away, consuming my personal space. This wasn’t the welcome of my dreams, but it wasn’t straight out of a nightmare, either, so I considered it a win.
And even though I was out of my element and in the line of fire, I enjoyed a major fangirl moment. Prince Roth, in the flesh! I almost said, You rocked my favorite vision. Autograph my chest?
The scent of cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves filled my nose and fogged my head. Like Christmas, only X-rated, starring a young, muscular and hotter–than-the-sun Santa.
Don’t hate me on sight. Or leer. Or lie. And please, please do not fear me.
At six-four or five, Roth towered over me. He had broad shoulders and a gloriously powerful build. This close, I could see the tiniest flecks of amber in his pale green eyes. Eyes framed by a fan of long, spiky lashes. His cheekbones were sharper than I’d realized, his unshaven jaw harder.
“You have five seconds,” he snapped.
All that anger... Why was he hotter than ever? Why, why?
“Hold that thought,” I said, catching Truly’s stare. “The troll is the one who hurt you, right, not these guys?” If they had, I’d have to take them out. Could I? What magic did these people wield?
A sense of connection burgeoned inside me as Truly met my gaze. Did she feel it, too? Please, feel it!
“Yes, the troll is responsible,” she said. “He attacked while my...friends were erecting this tent. But he didn’t bite me, I swear!”
Relieved, I returned my focus to Roth, who had yet to look away. Firelight loved his dark skin, giving him an almost otherworldly aura.
“What would you have done if we had hurt her?” he asked, and I thought I detected incredulity.
I arched a brow, all take a guess, and his anger evaporated. More shocking, he exhibited no trace of fear. Instead, he appeared...admiring?
Ribbons of pleasure danced inside me. “You asked who I am.” Had Queen Violet told Truly about her long-lost twin? Watching her with laser focus, I said, “My name is Everly.”
Not a single flicker of recognition. Dang it! What was I supposed to say now? Hey, girl. Guess what? Your mother never mentioned me, but surprise! We are twins separated at birth. Honest!
No, I would wait, I decided, and speak with Violet first. Then we would tell Truly together.
Would Violet like me? She had to like me. Our people had to like me.
Dude. I had people. Mom would—
As new pangs rent my chest, I stacked more bricks around my heart and blanked my mind.
If Violet doubted my identity, I’d...what? Another worry for later.
“Something you should know, Everly.” Roth’s deep baritone set off a series of nervous flutters deep in my gut. “If you act against me and mine, you will regret it.”
He was so protective. So fierce! Offering a jaunty salute, I replied, “Right back at you, cuteness.”
Baffled expression. Slight twitching at the corners of his lips.
As Saxon and Scales carted Stumpy out of the tent, I shouted, “My dagger!” I dashed over to pluck the blade from the troll’s temple, then returned to Roth.
The flutters started up again. “I’m here because I had a gang of trolls on my tail and a lungful of sand. When I saw your tent, I darted inside.” I kept Noel’s aid to myself. I couldn’t mention her without throwing in details about the bonum et malum, roots, new beginnings and seer magic. Until my chat with Queen Violet, I would hold all my secrets close. “Storm hack. If you want to keep people out, post guards at the door.”
“And let those guards be pelted by sand? No.” Staring at my lower half, he said, “You have a tail?”
What? “No!” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “A tail. Someone who’s following you.”
“What did the gang of trolls want?” He explored every inch of me with his gaze slowly, his irises heating. “You aren’t their usual fare.”
Was I his usual fare, even though I looked nothing like the stunner I’d seen in his bed? Because dang. That heat! After three months together, Peter had never come close to liquifying my brain and my bones. Roth continued to do it.
Not that it mattered. I wasn’t here to score a date. And I wasn’t his usual fare.
“I think they wanted me for the same reason Stumpy wanted her?” I pointed to Truly, then shrugged. “Or maybe I’m just everyone’s fare, usual or not?”
The corners of his lips twitched a second time. �
��Do you know who I am?”
“I do.” I couldn’t bring myself to lie. Besides, I’d bet royals were known by one and all. “You are Prince Roth...something or other. The mansel in distress I rescued from a troll.”
A rusty sound escaped him. A chuckle, maybe. “You rescued me from nothing. I had the situation under control. But you are right. I am Prince Roth. Something or other.”
He frowned. Disappointed? Because I hadn’t known his last name, or because I had known his first name, like I was some kind of royal groupie who’d sought him out for a sandstorm quickie? News flash. I had royal blood, too.
“Nice to meet you. Maybe you could back off now and offer me a refreshing beverage? And yes, you were definitely, one hundred percent in distress. Unless you wanted the troll to use your neck as a snack pack?”
His guards snickered, reminding me of their presence. Oops. I’d lost track of the world. In this strange land, I needed to have better spatial awareness.
Roth crossed his arms over his chest, his tunic taut over his biceps. “Doubting the word of a royal is a crime.”
“Crime,” the other three boys echoed. Trying not to laugh?
“To receive forgiveness, you must pay the doubter’s tax,” Roth told me.
Doubter’s tax? He was joking, right? Considering I knew zero-point-nil about this world, I couldn’t be sure. Wringing my hands together, I asked, “What am I expected to pay, exactly?”
“Yes, Roth,” the guy with dark glittering skin said. “What must she pay?”
He threw his buddy a shut it fast glance. “This one time only, I will forget what’s owed to me, if you convince me you mean us no harm.”
In economic terms, this was an incentive for Roth, and an opportunity cost for me, the benefit I would forfeit in order to gain something else. Basically, I could purchase shelter by sharing my personal information.
The Evil Queen Page 11
