The Evil Queen

by Showalter, Gena

  The bloodred corset with boned inserts protected my vital organs. For added protection, I wore my black leathers underneath the skirt.

  I picked up the compact, thinking to check on Hartly, maybe ask if there was a way to appease Allura. Look. See.

  Yes...

  “Everly?” Truly’s voice echoed through the cavern. “Are you all right in there?”

  “I am.” I stuffed the compact in my pocket, gathered the rest of my things and slung the pack over my shoulder. “Everything okay out here?” I asked as I exited.

  She greeted me with a nervous smile. “Noel—an oracle—just spoke to me. She says trolls are out, and their leader is determined to kill you.”

  “Me? But why?”

  “You know the troll you killed? The one who attacked me?”

  “Stumpy?”

  Nod. “Apparently, he was the commander’s brother. Warick—the commander—paid an oracle to tell him who delivered the final blow. He cared about nothing else. She told him your name and where you are located.”

  Great! Wonderful! “Would that oracle happen to be Noel?” Had she betrayed me?

  No. Surely not. To truly destroy me, she had only to tell Truly and Roth what I was. Which put me on a clock. How much time did I have before she spilled?

  “I don’t know,” Truly replied.

  I tried to reach out mystically. Noel? Don’t tell anyone about me, okay, and I’ll reward you handsomely.

  One minute, two. Silence. I ground my teeth.

  Roth and Vikander worked, their pace frantic as they anchored a tarp overhead. Saxon remained in the air, fitting the material over the treetops. As soon as darkness moved in, Reese doused the firepit and peered into the telescope—or whatever the arm-length golden tube atop the tripod was.

  The siren lifted his head and peered at me with an intensity I found unnerving. What had he seen?

  Roth moved his gaze to the waterfall, noticing me at last. Or maybe not. He’d known just where to glance, as if he were acutely aware of my presence. He quickly faced me fully to give me a total body perusal.

  Heat. Zaps of electricity teasing me, tempting me. Stronger than any drug.

  Vikander noted his friend’s distraction and grinned wide. He looked me over and whistled. “That is how you dress to win a prince.”

  A flush heated my cheeks, and I forced my attention back to Truly. “What’s the tarp for?”

  “May I?” At my nod, she appropriated my wet clothes. As she hung each sopping garment on a limb, she said, “Roth spent a fortune to have the tarp enchanted. Anyone who approaches it will temporarily forget their purpose and wander off.”

  If necessary, I could maybe possibly use illusion magic to hide us. To tell or not to tell?

  No need to ponder. Not. A nonsorcerer’s power never fluctuated. If these people didn’t know what I could do, they wouldn’t expect me to perform magic, and I wouldn’t have to secretly syphon. If I needed to craft an illusion tonight, I would, and they’d never know.

  As Truly led me to the firepit, I asked, “How long have you lived in Sevón?”

  “A year.”

  A lot longer than I’d expected. “Why move there?” I barely stopped myself from mentioning Farrah and their relationship, a detail I wasn’t supposed to know.

  “When Father and Challen, the King of Sevón, agreed to an alliance, they sealed the deal by arranging the engagement of their children, the marriage set to take place on my eighteenth birthday. Challen insisted I live in his palace from then on. I think he knew I would not survive in Airaria.”

  Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. The two kings...their children... My world spun.

  “You’re engaged to Roth?” I screeched. I’d suspected the possibility and discarded it.

  The entire group went quiet. Truly cringed, and Roth scowled—at me.

  “Not happily,” he snapped.

  “Not even close to happily,” she snapped back.

  But not too long ago, I’d seen him in bed with a girl who wasn’t his fiancée. Unless he was a cheater? Well, of course he was a cheater. He’d flirted with me while he had a freaking fiancée.

  Now Ophelia’s parting words made sense. See you at the wedding.

  My guts contorted, the pain searing. One day, Truly—who liked Roth’s sister—would become Mrs. Prince Charming. So the two disliked each other. So what? An engagement was an engagement, making the prince forever off-limits to me. And that was fine, whatever.

  Actually, I’d already known he was off-limits, that he belonged with Snow White. So this shouldn’t be a big deal. Besides, I’d only interacted with the guy a few times.

  But, gah! This was a big freaking deal. He wasn’t afraid of me. We’d joked about his benefits package. We’d laughed together, and I’d dreamed of more.

  He should have told me he had a fiancée. Finding out this way...

  Had Roth considered making me his side slice?

  Humiliation blistered my cheeks, anger only adding fuel to the heat. In a roundabout way, this was Peter and Prom Queen all over again. I might as well be a spare tire; the crappy doughnut you used only when a good tire went flat. Handy to have around in case of an emergency, never good enough for daily use.

  On top of everything else, envy poked at me. Did this mean Truly was, in fact, Snow White?

  Snow White versus the Evil Queen...at war over a boy Truly didn’t even like. A beautiful boy—the fairest of them all.

  Was Roth Snow White?

  Who was I, dang it? I just... I didn’t want to be EQ. I didn’t want to end up like Violet: a cold-blooded murderess, alone, afraid and despised. A true evil queen. Was she?

  Argh! Mysteries sucked.

  Ophelia suggested I work with the fairy tale rather than fight it. Sure thing, sign me up. Only one slight problem. I couldn’t work with anything until I knew my role.

  Truly nibbled on her bottom lip, reminding me of Mom and Hartly. Homesickness almost drowned me.

  She whispered, “I’ve noticed the way Roth looks at you. The way you look at him. If you wish to win his affections, even his hand in marriage, I will help you.”

  Breathe. Just breathe. “Why would you help me?”

  More nibbling. She looked left, then right, making sure no one had come closer. Still whispering, she said, “I’m in love with someone else.”

  “Who?” Would she trust me with the truth?

  Twin pink circles painted her cheeks. Every inch a royal, she puffed up her chest, gearing for a fight. “Do you desire my help or not?”

  Okay, so she wasn’t ready to tell me the whole truth. Didn’t matter. This was a great start. “I’m attracted to him,” I admitted just as softly. “But I don’t want to marry him. And I don’t have the best history with boys, especially boys who are tied to another girl.”

  When disappointment darkened her features, I found myself adding, “Why don’t you just break up with him?”

  Her shoulders rolled in. “If I do, our kingdoms will war.”

  Well. A very good reason to remain engaged. If Violet had acknowledged our connection, I could have maybe possibly considered thinking about taking Truly’s place. But she hadn’t, so I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

  Also, if I was fated to be the Evil Queen, I wasn’t destined for a happily-ever-after.

  Fate, you cruel SOB. I hope someone ganks you.

  In both versions written by the Brothers Grimm, the Evil Queen ended up in shackles...

  And burned alive.

  15

  In life, there are risks you must take...

  and desires you should not slake.

  Night crept through the forest, bringing thick shadows and an eerie soundtrack. Muted screams, animalistic growls and whistling winds. I quaked. The temperature had dropped exponentially, my every exhalation misting in front
of my face.

  Light flickered from the firepit, spilling over us. Instead of retiring to the tents, we’d opted to huddle together for warmth, creating a beefcake sandwich.

  From left to right: Reese, Vikander, Roth, me, Truly and Saxon. Strewn around us, weapons and unlit torches. Not too long ago, my...friends had eaten Truly’s rabbit stew. I’d explained my vegan status. Ever the gentleman, Roth had gone foraging, providing me with a mouthwatering selection of berries and nuts...though I might not ever eat again. A tiny pixie had lived inside one of the walnut shells, and I’d almost eaten her.

  Every two hours, someone walked the camp’s perimeter and checked on our horses. Too keyed up to sleep, I’d volunteered to take a shift, or every shift, but I’d gotten flat-out refusals. I had yet to earn anyone’s trust. Which was understandable. I didn’t trust them, either. And I wouldn’t. Not until they knew my secrets and liked me anyway.

  Cold winds blustered, and full body shudders racked me.

  I rolled to my side, facing Roth, seeking warmth. Only warmth.

  He draped an arm over my waist and pulled me closer, his heady, Christmas-scented heat enveloping me. “Better?”

  Mmm. “Much.” The guy was a grade-A furnace, and much cozier than a blanket.

  Red alert. He’s engaged to your twin—for now. Do not enjoy this. Except Truly had all but begged me to take him off her hands. Because I was a giver, I wanted to make her happy.

  He smoothed a strand of hair from my cheek and whispered, “I have a confession, sweetling.”

  I leaned closer. “Don’t call me sweetling anymore.” I liked it far too much.

  “All right. I’ll rephrase. I have a confession...my sweet.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “I dreamed of you before I met you,” he said.

  “You did?” Really? What had he seen? “A magic dream?” A seer dream?

  Brighter firelight lovingly caressed his face. “I have no magical foresight, and I’ve never had a dream like this one, before or since.”

  “What did I do in it?”

  “Are you sure you’re ready for the answer?”

  The way his lids sank to half-mast, I could venture a guess. We’d kissed, we’d touched. More? I cleared my throat and said, “Why would you dream of me, specifically?”

  “The day Father announced my engagement, I visited Noel to inquire about the union. She said I had asked the wrong questions, but I would find the right answers beneath the moonlight.”

  I recalled the way he’d pinched a lock of my hair and murmured, Like moonlight. The words had sounded like a prayer. Now I gulped.

  Voice thickening, he added, “That is the night I had the dream of you. A very...revealing dream.”

  Oh, yes. We’d kissed and touched. I needed to refocus the conversation before I tried to make fantasy a reality. Topics to avoid: everything personal. I’d stick with business. “What kind of jobs are available in Enchantia for people like me? And don’t say cook, seamstress or nanny. Go chauvinist on me, and I’ll rip out your tongue.”

  “Is that what mortals call kissing—ripping out your tongue?”

  I sputtered, and he laughed.

  “I told you I would find a position for you on my staff,” he said, “and I meant it. You’ll be pleased to know my benefits package has been growing.”

  More sputtering, my cheeks all but roasting. Crafty, crafty prince. Only he possessed the skill to simultaneously make me blush, twitter with pleasure and shriek with frustration.

  “You don’t want me to sign on to your roster, Roth. I’ll take you for every chest of gold you’ve got.” A girl had to build her investment portfolio somehow.

  He sifted strands of my hair through his fingers, mesmerized by his task. “Perhaps I think you’re worth such an extravagant price. Perhaps I’ll consider it a bargain. Or,” he said, a teasing twinkle in his eyes, “perhaps not. You constantly insult and defy me.”

  “I’ve never insulted you! More than a couple of times,” I grumbled. But I think he kind of liked being defied. “Is this my job interview, then?”

  “You’ve already got the job. Consider this a...placement interview,” he said. “Tell your prince what magical ability you wield.”

  My prince? This had turned into a fishing expedition, hadn’t it? An opportunity to learn more about me, his dream girl. “What magical ability you wield? Tell me, and I’ll consider thinking about the possibility of considering thinking about reciprocating.”

  He chuckled. “Singular creature. You and your secrets drive me mad.”

  “That just proves I’m smart. Secrets are armor. They protect you when enemies lurk around every corner.”

  “I am not your enemy.”

  You might be. “What about the sorcerer you mentioned?” I could fish, too. “What will you do when you find her?” Gah! “Or him. Or them!”

  His disgust returned. “If they syphon, their hands are removed. That is the punishment for any theft.”

  React, and you’ll give yourself away. But I couldn’t stop the invasion of cold in my bones or the pangs in my chest. No hands, no magic.

  Already I qualified for an amputation. If ever he learned the truth about me...

  Well, screw him. If necessary, I’d cut and run. Yet I wanted to shout, Why can’t you like me for me? Be my friend!

  I rasped, “That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”

  “Trust me, I do not take such actions lightly. In the past, different sorcerers have become so powerful, they couldn’t be stopped. Thousands of innocents died, just to fuel their ever-increasing abilities.”

  “What about an altilium...that I’ve overheard people talking about?” Truth. “Sorcerers syphon from the willing, no harm, no foul.”

  “The members are rarely willing. They are chosen for their abilities and held captive for the remainder of their lives. Even if they escape, they might not achieve freedom. They are mystically linked to the sorcerer, who constantly syphons their power, keeping them weak.”

  The two parts of me reacted differently. One understood the appeal of plugging into multiple batteries at once—power, there for the taking, always, ensuring I’d never be weak again; the other part of me understood Roth’s disgust.

  “How do they break the link?” I asked.

  “If the sorcerer doesn’t break it, distance or death is required.”

  Then and there, I made a vow to myself. If ever I created an altilium, the members would be willing, and paid.

  “As a young boy, I spent months in an altilium,” he continued, strained. “The day of my younger brother’s funeral, a former overlord snatched me, my stepmother and my older brother and locked us in an underground bunker. Months later, we escaped... My mother and brother were killed in the process. I was the only survivor.”

  To lose so much, so quickly. “I’m sorry, Roth.” For everything the prince had suffered...and everything we might suffer in the future thanks to his experiences. Former overlord—Nicolas or someone else? “I know the pain of watching a loved one die.”

  “I didn’t tell you to gain your sympathy, sweetling. Only to warn you. Never trust a sorcerer.”

  Sweetling again. I let it slide, my mind in turmoil. What would happen if—when—Roth considered me a foe? An epic battle between Prince Charming and, say, the Evil Queen?

  Clearly, he had no idea King Stephan had a sorcerer in his family tree. Otherwise, there’d be no engagement to Truly...who still hadn’t exhibited a sorcerian trait.

  For all our sakes, I needed to do as originally planned and prove good sorcerers existed. Could I? Maybe. Hopefully. Already he liked me and found worth in me. He’d dreamed of me.

  But I’d get only one shot at this. I needed to think this through and figure out the best way to proceed. For now, I performed another subject change. “Is there a prophecy—fairy ta
le—about your future?”

  He went stiff. “There is, but I do not speak of it, lest others try to mold themselves into a certain role.”

  Ahhh. Made sense. How many girls had pretended to be his Snow White?

  So badly I wanted to admit my connection to the tale. We could discuss our thoughts, compare notes.

  Reward—a partner and support system. Risk—inadvertently revealing my heritage.

  I sighed and decided to change the subject yet again. Though I already knew the answer, I said, “Tell me why you’re out here in this dangerous forest. You could be snuggled up safe and sound in your palace.”

  Raw pain darkened his eyes. “My father is gravely ill. I search for a way to save him.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, plucking at his shirt collar, wishing I could syphon his heartbreak.

  “Tomorrow, I’m sending Princess Truly back to Sevón, where she’ll be safe. She’s a good tracker, but she’s failed to find—” He pursed his lips. “Reese and Saxon will accompany her. You will go with them.”

  She’d failed to find what? The Apple of Life and Death? I wondered...the very apple used to harm Snow White?

  Tomorrow, Ophelia would fetch Hartly. Going to Sevón meant seeing her sooner rather than later. But...

  During our last interaction, I hadn’t known I’d killed Mom. Now I knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt, and I wasn’t ready to face my sister. The witch and oracle would guard her, and I would guard Roth.

  “We should stay together, look out for each other,” I said. Let the prophecy continue to unfold.

  I could tell my words pleased him. Masterfully suave, he moved closer to me before I realized he’d moved at all. “Perhaps you hate the thought of leaving me?”

  “Perhaps you hope I’ll refuse your offer so you have an excuse to keep your dream girl by your side?”

  “Another body to protect. Another mouth to feed. Another burden to bear.” Closer still. Even in the dark, I could see the wicked gleam in his eyes. “You think these things please me?”

  I edged closer, too, a breath of air separating us. Never had I been so hyperaware of another person, of his breaths, and his touch, his scent. Our connection. What are you doing? Draw back!