The Evil Queen

by Showalter, Gena

  There were still flaws in my conclusion, of course. I hadn’t suddenly started giving two craps about being the fairest of them all, and I had no husband or children...though “husband” might be symbolic of a romantic partner, and “children” might be...what? The fruit of our labors together?

  Follow the train of logic. Let’s say I was the Evil Queen, no ifs, ands or buts. How could I overcome my predicted end, avoiding shackles and flames, dying alone and unloved?

  There had to be some kind of loophole. Most prophecies had one, right?

  Prophecy: you can never speak the truth.

  Loophole: you can tattoo the message on your body.

  Prophecy: no warrior has the strength to defeat the villain.

  Loophole: a scholar comes along and defeats the villain with her wits.

  I palmed the compact I’d had so much trouble finding earlier. Look, see. One peek, just one.

  Answers awaited me. I needed only to resume syphoning from the troll. What’s more, I could inquire about Hartly.

  Curiosity gnawed at me. I had to know.

  Hating myself, avoiding my reflection—my eyes would be wells of grief and pain—I waved my hand over the glass. I whispered, “Show me what would have happened if Roth hadn’t killed Reese.”

  Ripples, then Reese appeared. Dark hunger contorted his features. Shock hammered me as he launched himself at Roth. The two grappled, vicious to the extreme. Vikander and Saxon tried to help and got mauled. When Truly stepped in, she lost an eye. I linked with the siren and syphoned from him until he died...then I focused on the others with dark hunger.

  Real life Truly eased beside me, her shoulder brushing mine. “How are you?”

  Struggling to control my breathing, I closed the compact. Focus. I’d ask the mirror about Hartly after we’d retired for the night.

  “I’m still shocked,” I admitted. I understood Roth’s reasons better, but I couldn’t get past one fact: the (seemingly) easygoing prince who’d made me smile and ache for his kisses hadn’t hesitated to lift his sword and remove Reese’s head. He’d killed someone he loved.

  “What happened?” I asked. “One minute you begged Roth to spare Reese, the next you agreed the siren had to die.” No judgement, only genuine curiosity.

  “With his voice, Reese could calm or incense legions. The better question is, why didn’t he change your mind?”

  Yeah. Why?

  She added, “Trolls, centaurs and shifters are usually the only ones immune,” and I knew. My connection to the troll had saved my mind. Oh, the irony.

  “There really isn’t a cure for troll venom?” I asked, voice wobbling.

  “There really isn’t.” She plucked a blade of grass. “I just wish Roth hadn’t been so cold, detached from emotion.”

  He’d been anything but cold. He’d been—was—agonized, which made his lack of hesitation a thousand times more astonishing. Why hadn’t he placed the burden of responsibility on someone else? So that he alone would bear the guilt?

  “What happens to the dead in Enchantia?” I asked. “Does the person’s spirit move on, or cease to exist?”

  “In Airaria, citizens believe the dead live in the sky, forever lighting our way. In Sevón, the dead are said to return to their roots—the forest—their power and magic made one with the trees. In Fleur, spirits are thought to be reborn. In Azul, spirits forever dance atop ocean waves.”

  Beautiful sentiments.

  Morning arrived, light seeping through the overhead umbrella of leaves, a familiar cobalt glow encasing the trees. Squirrels hunted nuts and birds flittered about.

  I marveled. We’d suffered a huge blow, but the world didn’t care. Life rolled on, never missing a beat.

  Maintaining heartbreaking silence, Vikander placed spears around the perimeter while Roth and Saxon built...

  “What is that?” I asked Truly.

  “A funeral pyre.”

  To say goodbye. Pang. “Your skill with a bow,” I said, switching directions. “It’s miraculous. And magical?”

  She nodded. “When I first realized what I could do, I was disappointed. I’d wanted to control one of the four elements, like my mother.”

  “You shoot with one hundred percent accuracy, and your quiver never empties. You can play offense and defense, for yourself and others. That is amazing!” Enviable.

  She flicked her hair over one shoulder, saying, “I can also throw blades, and when I use daggers, my magic always guides me, telling me where to cut to cause the most damage. I can mimic animal calls, and track anyone or thing.”

  “Amazing,” I repeated, and she beamed. Everything she described...

  Had I found the Huntsman?

  Awe quickly morphed into dread. In the fairy tale, the Evil Queen and the Huntsman worked together—for a short time. EQ asked for the unthinkable, and the Huntsman betrayed her.

  As soon as the boys finished the altar, Roth used flint and a dagger to ignite a torch, then motioned us over with a wave. We joined him, and Vikander and Saxon moved behind us.

  Roth tossed the torch underneath the altar. Kindling quickly erupted with flames, the inferno growing, spreading. The soldiers assumed battle positions, watching as their friend burned. Pain turned their eyes into wounds.

  By the time the flames died, night had fallen and only ash remained. But it was then, that moment, that the sense of gloom dissipated.

  Roth rested a fist over his heart. “A life well lived is a life missed by others. You fought the good fight and ran a good race. We’ll miss you always, Reese of Seaspray, but we will not mourn you.”

  The others mimicked his pose, fist over heart. “We will not mourn,” they chanted in unison.

  “We celebrate the time we had together,” Roth said.

  “We celebrate,” they echoed.

  “Death has lost its sting. The grave has lost its bite. May you forever abide in the peace of the hereafter.” The prince knelt before the ash.

  Again, the rest of us followed suit, and bowed our heads.

  “Let your heart return to the earth.” Roth planted his palm inside the ash.

  We did the same, the warm mound shimmering with the same azure glow that pervaded the forest. A glow that grew brighter, brighter, before being absorbed into the dirt.

  Let your heart return to earth. Had I felt the hearts of the dead—the source of the endless, limitless power—when I’d syphoned from Allura? The reason I thought I’d sensed Mom’s presence?

  Only when the glow died did the guys walk away. Their steps were lighter.

  I remained in place, my thoughts riotous. I’d led a great life and had much to celebrate. Every time I’d laughed, I’d experienced a little miracle. And I’d laughed a lot. I’d had camaraderie, acceptance and comfort when times had been tough. I’d had a sister’s unwavering support, and a mother who’d chosen to raise me, to love me; that meant something. But I needed to let go of the past and set my sights on the future.

  I got it now, how I’d fought the prophecy and hadn’t worked with it. You could not move forward if you were always looking back. Rather, you stalled out, rendered immobile, trapped in a ceaseless tug of war. The constant strain left you fatigued and vulnerable.

  I will always love you, Mom, and miss you terribly, but I will mourn you no more. I will rejoice for the time we had and anticipate a reunion in the hereafter.

  I drew in a deep breath...then let the brick wall around my heart come crashing down. I expected my body to crash, as well, but I remained on my feet, astonishingly steady.

  “If you’ll gather wood for a new fire,” Truly said, breaking into my thoughts, “I’ll set up a private bathing area. Vikander will make us a tub.”

  I stood. Roth and Vikander erected tents, while Saxon marched along the camp’s perimeter, on guard. Back to business as usual.

 
“How will we fill the tub?” I saw no evidence of a pond or lake, or even a puddle.

  “I have a bespelled canteen. It has been in my family for ages, and never runs dry.”

  What had that cost?

  “As you gather the wood, try to garner Roth’s attention,” she said, waggling her brows. “Maybe bend over and wiggle around.”

  “I would rather teach Roth how to insert a tampon,” I grumbled and strode away.

  The prince watched me, a blank mask over his features.

  Okay, maybe I would wiggle around a tiny bit. If I could help him forget his troubles, even for a moment, I would.

  This was also a chance to advance my win-him-over plan, so he would never help Snow White shackle and burn me.

  Whoa! Light bulb moment. In the fairy tale, Prince Charming worked with Snow White to murder the Evil Queen. Roth was tied to another girl and my death. How had I failed to connect the dots before?

  I consider myself the Evil Queen now? For sure? No doubts?

  No, I still had doubts. But I needed to proceed as if I didn’t.

  Self-preservation said, Attack first, die last.

  Another part of me shouted, Leave while you can!

  No way. I wouldn’t leave Truly behind. And I wouldn’t give up on Roth. I was his dream girl—a reminder I would never tire of hearing. The way he looked at me...

  If anyone could change the prince’s mind about the sorcerian and overcome his contempt, it was me.

  Goose bumps broke out over my arms as I gathered firewood. Firewood glazed with a strange pink powder. I frowned.

  “Trying to poison me?” I asked Allura. “Go for it. You can choke on my bones, for all I care.” She could have helped us today. To punish me, she’d let an innocent siren die.

  I headed back to camp, stomping my feet with more force than necessary. A fist-size spider-scorpion dropped from a web, stopping me in my tracks. My heart lurched. The same fist-size spider-scorpion as before, the one who’d tried to warn me about the trolls? If so, he’d hitched a ride on something—or someone. I shuddered.

  “Um...hi?” I said with a lame little wave.

  Roth rushed past a tangle of limbs, murder in his eyes. “What is—Ah.” He sheathed his sword. “I will slay this dragon with my boot.”

  “No!” Jumping into his path, I flattened my hands on his pecs. A puny action, considering his strength, but he halted anyway, his muscles flexing. “He’s innocent.”

  “A spidorpion bites and stings, injecting his victims with two types of venom. One causes pain, one paralyzes. He will eat your eyes, a delicacy to their kind, and you will remain aware, unable to fight.”

  Another horror. Yawn. “There’s been enough death for one day. Let’s leave him to his business.”

  Did Roth just flinch?

  “Spidorpions have a long history with those who wield magic, and a seething hatred for our kind. Witches use them for spells. Oracles use them to achieve an altered mental state. Sorcerers eat them to make their blood venomous—so they can paralyze and easily abduct their victims.”

  So this one had followed me. Not to help, but to hurt. “I get it. He hates me, and he’ll attack at his earliest convenience.” I shrugged. “So what?” He’d have to get in line.

  The prince gave me an odd look but allowed me to walk—push—him backward. I glanced over my shoulder and expelled a relieved breath. The spidorpion had already disappeared in the foliage.

  Saxon strode over to confiscate the twigs I’d gathered, his bracelets clinking together. I’d been meaning to ask him about those bracelets. What they meant, their purpose, that kind of thing. But he was gone a second later, marching off without speaking a word.

  “Hold up,” I called, about to give chase. “Some of the twigs are sprinkled with pink powder.”

  “That is fairy dust.” Roth clasped my wrist, pulling my body against his, and motioned Saxon to continue on. “It’ll help us relax.”

  Our chests bumped, and I tottered. I had to grip his shoulders for balance. He coiled an arm around my waist to hold me steady, and I gave a nervous little laugh.

  “Smooth move, princeling. How many fair maidens have succumbed to your charms?”

  His fingers flexed on me. “Do you think I’m evil now?”

  See! I’d known he was agonized. I softened against him, saying, “I’m sorry it happened, and I’m sorry you were put in such a terrible position. You made a tough decision during a tough time. You did what you thought was right, your intentions pure. Your strength awes me.”

  He met my gaze. The vulnerability in his expression...the astonishment...was that a hint of adoration? Danged if I didn’t soften even more. My opinion actually mattered to him.

  I’d absolutely, positively made the right call by staying with him. I had this in the bag. Wait. Would he try to send me back to the palace without Reese? I asked, and Roth shook his head.

  “You’ll stay with me,” he said.

  Well, well. Soon, his one-star sorcerian review would get an upgrade, guaranteed. I’d make sure of it—for our well-being, not because my body shouted, I will perish without his touch.

  Cupping his cheeks, I intoned, “You awe me, Roth.”

  The adoration intensified, so strong I felt it like a caress. I trembled and ached and maybe, just maybe, reflected an answering adoration right back at him.

  Fool! Have you forgotten? He isn’t yours. He’ll never be yours.

  Right. I’d have to continue winning him over without becoming emotionally attached. Or more attached.

  My heart chuckled and tipped a hat at my mind. Good luck with that.

  18

  True love’s kiss can break any curse...

  or make your life ever so much worse.

  One day bled into another as we searched for the Apple of Life and Death. No one knew what we were looking for, exactly. An apple tree? Some kind of artifact?

  Roth said, “We’ll know it when we see it.”

  Every day, he exuded more urgency, the pressure to return to his sick father flourishing.

  Again and again he told me he needed to save the king, that Challen was a good man, beloved by his kingdom.

  Beloved by his son, too. In a very un-Everly-like act, I’d thrown my arms around Roth this morning, hugging him tight. I knew the pain of losing a parent too soon. He’d already lost his mother, and I didn’t want him to lose another.

  He’d hugged me back, his nose buried in my hair. We’d clung to each other. I’d never wanted to let go.

  “I know the apple is close,” Truly said. “Every fiber of my being tells me I need only reach out to clasp it, but...”

  Despite her ability to track anything, anytime, anywhere, we’d made no real progress. I both minded and didn’t mind the delay. While I cherished the time I spent with my twin and Roth, who’d never made good on his plan to send us to the palace, I missed Hartly like crazy.

  But I couldn’t be swayed from my current path. Operation Like Me More was for my sister’s benefit, too. Security for me was the same as security for her—if she was in Sevón.

  Had Ophelia done as promised? What was Hartly doing right this second? Did she blame me for Mom’s death?

  I’d never been so desperate for information, but Noel continued to ignore me.

  I couldn’t ask Foreverly. I’d already severed my link with the troll as easily as I’d created it—with a simple mental command. I’d had to. The temptation to take more and more of his power, all of his power, had only magnified.

  During our treks, Roth always claimed the lead and commanded me to stay close to his heels. He would hack foliage out of my way and use his body to shield mine from danger. Every evening he foraged for fruit and nuts while I washed off the day’s grime. He never delegated the task to one of his men.

  “I can find my own foo
d,” I’d told him.

  “You can, yes. But I enjoy satisfying your needs,” he’d replied, sending electric tingles down my spine.

  Sometimes he combed his fingers through my hair, or massaged my nape, or rested his palm on my lower back. I remained in a constant state of anticipation, hoping he would do more.

  Today, we slogged through a marshy field scattered with trees, the ground shaking intermittently. In fact, a new tremor hit, and we had to pause our procession. Leaves rattled with more force, limbs clapped together and birds took flight.

  Wherever I happened to stand, the earthquakes worsened. Allura’s doing? I doubted I’d been forgiven, but she hadn’t tormented me in days. Birds no longer crapped on me, limbs no longer swatted me and roots no longer tripped me.

  “The tremors are coming faster,” Roth said, his jaw compressed.

  I clung to a brittle vine, my bones like tuning forks. “Truly? You all right?”

  Like me, she clung to a vine. “I’m good.”

  At night, we shared a tent and talked until one of us drifted off. Getting to know her was as wonderful as I’d hoped, but it made me miss Hartly even more.

  In one of our gab sessions, I’d told Truly more about her cousin, and she’d told me more about her—our—father, scaring me further. “There were rumors. Whispers that my grandmother had an affair with a sorcerian overlord, and my father was the result.” Her face had scrunched with distaste. “Before King Challen accepted my hand in marriage on Roth’s behalf, he had an oracle read me to ensure I had no need to syphon.”

  Would I receive a reading before I gained entrance into the palace? Would it matter if I did? Noel could have spilled my secret at any time but hadn’t. Why spill it now?

  Maybe I should just go ahead and confess? How would she take the news? Would she understand why I’d remained mute, and forgive me? Would Roth?

  We’d been together awhile now, and I hadn’t syphoned from any of my friends. Hadn’t I proved myself?

  When the newest quake ceased, we soldiered on. Sweltering temperatures had reduced my insides to a nice, bubbly stew, my skin the bread bowl. No flowers flourished in the area, no insects crawled about. Char and ash hung heavy in the breeze, ruining my lungs. I coughed and coughed and coughed.