The Evil Queen

by Showalter, Gena

  Clearly, living things came here to die.

  Roth shoved a limb out of my way. “Are you all right, sweetling?”

  “I’m fine, thank you,” I muttered. “What about you?”

  “I’m with you. I’m good.”

  The things he said... There was no one sweeter than Roth Charmaine. And no bigger jerk. How was I supposed to remain emotionally detached?

  About an hour later, I grumbled, “How big is the forest?” Translation: How much farther do we have to go?

  “Endless.”

  Behind me, Truly groaned. “There are entrances hidden throughout. The entire woodland is comprised of different dimensions smashed together. Allura has been known to trap people in the worst ones, just for fun. Witches do it for the right price.”

  Well. Multiple dimensions explained how I’d escaped the centaurs. How I’d gone from a wonderland of exotic flowers and majestic wisteria to something like this, a hellscape littered with quicksand and the remains of gnarled trees.

  “Give me a reason to push on,” Vikander said from behind my twin. “Cast an illusion, Everly. Naked beauties all around, gender optional.”

  I rolled my eyes. The fairy and avian had requested an illusion countless times. I gave them the same answer as before. “Dance monkey dance. No. Sorry, not sorry.”

  “Your fire illusion was remarkable,” Saxon said. “The finest I’ve ever seen.”

  “Thank you.” While I liked the avian and would enjoy amusing him—he rarely relaxed and always stayed busy protecting his friends—I couldn’t do it unless I syphoned. “My answer is still no.”

  If another emergency presented itself, I wasn’t sure what I’d do. Take from Allura again?

  My apple birthmark began to heat, startling me. I tripped and would have kissed dirt if Roth hadn’t caught me.

  —Everly! Hello, hello. Testing one, two, three. Is this thing on?—

  Noel. I snapped, What do you want?

  —I have news. Hartly is alive and well!—

  Relief rained over the boiling cauldron of my worry. But I said, I reached out. You ignored me.

  —I know, and I’m sorry. I’m only one girl. Granted, I’m an amazing girl. Some might even call me a fairy godfriend. But even I have limits. So many dominoes to line up, keeping you safe, staying ahead of our foes, planning the taming of the trolls, all to ensure Enchantia survives the wars to come.—

  So much to unpack. And she wasn’t done!

  —Don’t worry. I’ll let you know when you need to tag in. Until then, let’s chat about Roth. Are you still concerned he’ll fall in love with Snow White and kill you off?—

  Well, I was now. Did Noel know something I didn’t? Are you trying to tell me something, Oracle?

  —I feel your fear and it’s driving me batty. You realize fairy tales are sometimes symbolic rather than literal, yes? I’ve mentioned that fact? Like, when you left the mortal world, your old life died, and you started fresh. A clean slate.—

  Are the iron shackles and fiery death symbolic?

  —Well, they aren’t not symbolic.—

  What did that mean? Lost in thought, I plowed into a tree and ricocheted backward. Sharp pain in my forehead, blood dripping into my eyes.

  Truly gasped. “Everly!”

  Roth backtracked fast, sheathing his sword and clasping my face with his big, calloused hands. He studied the gash. “It’s shallow. You’ll heal without scarring.”

  Even with sweat-dampened hair and dirt-streaked cheeks, he remained the fairest of them all. The most beautiful being ever to live.

  I’d wondered before but had dismissed the idea. Now I really wondered. Could Roth be Snow White, even though he was jaded and domineering? Could I be Prince Charming? I had charm, probably.

  Frustration frayed my nerve endings. Would I never figure this out? Everyone I’d pegged as a player in the fairy tale had traits that fit multiple characters. Even me! And where did this journey fall in the prophecy?

  “Let’s get you patched up,” he said, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip.

  While Saxon played nurse, handing over supplies, Roth played doctor, cleaning and bandaging the wound. I let my mind wander.

  As soon as possible, I needed to do an intense study of the fairy tale, especially the Enchantian version. A thousand times, I’d almost broken out the one by the Brothers Grimm, but I’d been too afraid the others would catch me and speculate about why.

  I just... I suspected we’d entered one of the many time gaps in the tale. “Soon afterward.” “Later.” “One day.” A point when a catalyst occurred, driving the characters from one action to another as they prepared to face the big bad.

  Would we soon be fighting another foe? What would happen next?

  “Better?” Roth asked me.

  “Yes. Thank you.” His concern for me was intoxicating,

  His wishful gaze sought mine, and longing arced between us, stronger than ever before, nearly turning me inside out.

  —This is better than mortal TV!—Noel’s casual comment reminded me that my birthmark hadn’t cooled; our mental connection remained active.

  Beat it, Oracle. You keep Hartly safe and continue keeping my secrets, and I’ll stop driving you batty with my worries. Deal?

  —Deal. Oh, and Everly? One last thing before I forget. This next part is going to sting.—

  What are you talking about? Sting how?

  The birthmark cooled, silence greeting me. Danged oracle—and danged oracle speak.

  Another quake started up, the stoutest so far. I rocked back and forth, my brain slamming against my skull. A crack forked over the ground, separating me from Roth.

  Anger burned the filter from my tongue, and I shouted, “Enough, Allura! Stop the nonsense.”

  The shaking ended, and every member of my group peered at me with confusion, maybe even fascination.

  “What?” I stomped my foot. “She’s being ridiculous.”

  Suddenly, I lost the foundation at my feet, the crack expanding, land crumbling. I screamed as I plummeted into a dark pit. Roth lunged for me—

  Yes! He caught my hand in his, his vise grip strong enough to crack bone.

  I dangled there, frantic. Roth hung over the outer edge of the pit, the tendons in his neck strained.

  “Don’t let go,” I beseeched. I kicked my legs, searching for a toehold. “Please, Roth.”

  “Never,” he vowed.

  The ground gave a stronger shake, and I whimpered.

  “Saxon?” Roth demanded.

  The avian stood behind him, features dark with concern, wings flapping. He gripped the prince’s ankles, ensuring he wouldn’t slide away. “The pit is too narrow. I cannot fly inside it.”

  “Vikander,” he demanded next.

  “Working on it,” the fairy said. As Truly handed him metal shavings, he created and planted spears on both sides of Roth, giving the prince hand and foot rests.

  “I’ll pull you up as soon as I’m stabilized,” Roth told me. “Any minute.”

  With Prince Roth Charmaine on the case, I had no need to panic. “Thank you. I—” Something hard and strong clamped around my ankle and yanked. “Roth,” I shouted, kicking my legs once again.

  “Everly!”

  Yank, yank. I fell deeper, and Roth fell with me, refusing to let go.

  “Losing my grip,” Saxon snarled, attempting to lift us both.

  I couldn’t let Roth and Saxon hit bottom with me. Doing my best to sound calm and assured, I said, “Release me, Roth. Now.”

  “Never,” he repeated with just as much conviction.

  I pried my fingers from his, one by one.

  “Everly, don’t. Don’t!” He tightened his hold...

  “I’m glad I met you, Roth. I love you, Truly. Vikander, Saxon, you aren’t so ba
d.”

  “Everly!”

  My hand slid free, and I tumbled down. Impact! Pain! The rocky ground pulverized my legs, and the backpack I’d insisted on carrying myself nearly broke my spine. Stars flashed over my vision, and my stomach heaved.

  When I was able, I dug inside the pack and withdrew a dagger and a flashlight. Then I clambered to my feet.

  What monster would I be forced to face this time? Some type of mole shifter?

  The flashlight illuminated a narrow carven with crystal walls, and open passages into other caverns. Water dripped, the sweet scent of roses somehow overshadowing the muskiness of earth.

  “Everly!” Never had Roth sounded so rattled. “Stay where you are. I’m coming for you.”

  “I’m okay,” I called. Oh, crap! A boy stood a few feet away, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. He loomed inside one of the passageways. “Stay where you are!”

  He was over six feet tall, leanly muscled and as beautiful as he was frightening. He had a mass of curly blond hair, blue eyes and tanned skin, his features too perfect to be real. In black leather, with a sword rising over his broad shoulders, he looked like a fallen warrior angel.

  He inclined his head in greeting. “I apologize for causing the quakes,” he said, his voice deep and melodious. “I had orders to speak to you, without slaying your companions. Since the prince would attack me on sight, I had to get you alone.”

  Allura hadn’t been responsible for the quakes? My bad, I thought, patting a cavern wall. “You caused the quakes, just to speak to me without Roth’s interference? Why? Who are you?”

  “I am Tyler, and I am at your service. After years away, our overlord has returned. He says I am to guard you with my life.”

  Our overlord. Tyler was sorcerian—and he knew I was sorcerian, too. “What makes you think I’m like you?”

  He frowned. “You are the niece of Nicolas Soren, yes?”

  Niece, not stepdaughter? How could... Unless...

  I replayed Truly’s confession. A former sorcerian overlord was rumored to have had an affair with our grandmother. Nicolas was that overlord’s son. Nicolas, who’d admitted he might be the new overlord.

  Nicolas, brother to Stephan and Edwin...my legit uncle?

  “How were you able to speak with Nicolas?” I asked, heart misfiring. “He’s still in the mortal world.” Right?

  “He is not. He found a way home, and he’s searching for your sister.” Moving too swiftly to track with the naked eye, Tyler clasped my forearm. Where we touched, I blistered.

  Wincing, I wrenched away. The faint outline of a palm print remained.

  “What did you do to me?” I demanded.

  “I gave you a way to contact me. If ever I’m needed, just fit your palm over my print,” he said, “and I will find you.”

  He’d marked me? I ground my teeth.

  “Everly!” Roth’s voice. Louder now. Closer.

  The sorcerian narrowed his eyes and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “Go,” I whispered, waving Tyler away. “I decline your offer of protection. I’ve gotten good at protecting myself.” Better that way. I would never betray myself. What’s more, I didn’t want Tyler and Roth fighting. Someone would die.

  “We will see each other again. Soon,” he said.

  A prediction or a threat?

  He held my gaze as he stepped back...soon vanishing in the shadows. Perfect timing. Using tree vines as rope, Roth was lowered directly in front of me.

  Cuts and bruises marred his face, and blood splattered every inch of his exposed skin, yet he’d never been more beautiful.

  He looked me over. “Any injuries?”

  This boy... Despite the danger, he hadn’t hesitated to come to my rescue. Because he liked me. Because he didn’t know who or what I was—yet.

  Foreboding flared to life once again. I’d told Noel I wouldn’t distract her with my worries. What good had worry done me anyway?

  I needed to win Roth over faster. I needed to admit the truth and face the fallout, whatever it was. Because being with him felt...inevitable, with fate playing matchmaker.

  19

  Your dreams have come true.

  Why are you so blue?

  Once we cleared the overly hot, pit-filled wasteland, we crossed through another invisible doorway. Dimension. Whatever! We entered a land of blue. Blue trees, blue flowers, blue mushrooms plucked straight from Alice’s Wonderland.

  “Anything?” Roth asked Truly.

  “Always! The apple is close,” she said, frustration pulsing from her. “I don’t understand why I can feel it, but not see it.”

  Vikander motioned to me with a tilt of his chin. “Perhaps the apple isn’t an apple at all.”

  Roth and Saxon stared at me and nodded.

  They thought I was the apple? I frowned. Was I? I supposed I could be. I was bonum et malum, after all. But then, so was Truly.

  Maybe, “the” apple referred to two apples. One life, one death. One saved. One killed.

  I gulped, then shook my head. “Sorry, guys, but you’ve got the wrong girl. I’m not a healer or a killer.” Not purposely. Although, I could syphon from multiple healers, steal their magic, and save King Challen. Life and death from one little apple baby.

  Trepidation twisted my stomach. But again, I wouldn’t be killing anyone. Not healers. Not Snow White. By the sheer force of my will—and each of my decisions—I would never be the apple.

  “We’ve lost the trolls.” Saxon landed in front of us, tucking his wings into his back.

  The brutes had caught our trail again this morning, their commander’s determination to slay me unwavering.

  “And the centaurs?” Roth asked.

  Yeah. Violet’s horde continued to chase me. So far, we’d managed to evade it, too.

  “No sign of them,” Saxon replied.

  A family of pixies glided over, elegant and graceful, pulsing with iridescent lights as they performed tricks and flips around the avian and the fairy, as if showing off.

  Vikander shooed them away. “Thieves and mischief-makers, the lot of them.”

  “We’ll stop here and set up camp,” Roth called.

  Here—a small clearing surrounded by towering fruit trees. No apples, dang it. Would we ever find the (real) Apple of Life and Death?

  Roth grabbed the satchel he always kept close and stalked off. Just before he disappeared in the forest, he tossed me a heated glance over his shoulder.

  Every sensation he’d ever roused in me flared anew, leaving me breathless. How could one person affect another so strongly with a simple look?

  Vikander grabbed the bag of iron shavings and began nailing spears around the perimeter, as usual. Saxon erected tents, then fed and watered the horses. We’d found them several days ago, unharmed. Truly prepared food.

  I was tasked with gathering firewood and digging a firepit. With my backpack in place, I headed down the same path Roth had taken. The desire to see him, to be with him, tempted me beyond measure.

  Detecting splashing sounds, I quickened my step. I had to push past a hedge of flowers and dodge a swarm of bees, but I found a lovely pond, the water clear as crystal.

  Roth discerned me as he swam. After smoothing wet hair from his brow, he walked forward. The closer he came, the more I saw of his incredible body. Those broad shoulders. The rippling muscles in his chest. The pierced nipples and elaborate tree tattoo, with swirling limbs forming varying patterns. A shiny red apple dangled.

  A tree with an apple. Coincidence? “Maybe you’re the Apple of Life and Death,” I said. He kept walking, about to reveal his lower half... I spun around, my cheeks burning as if I’d returned to char-o-land. He was naked, wasn’t he?

  Magnificent male. The epitome of perfection.

  Don’t stare at him. But I really, rea
lly wanted to...

  A few feet away, a pixie was busy gathering his clothing. Intending to steal the garments?

  “Get lost,” I said, waving my hands. Wait. What was I doing? Helping Roth cover up all that muscly goodness? For shame!

  The pixie giggled as she flew away without his clothes. Bummer.

  “Did you miss me?” Roth asked, material rustling as he dressed.

  “I’m, uh, on the hunt for firewood.” But yes. I did. I spied several stray limbs not too far away, layered with pink fairy dust. Sweet! When burned, fairy dust smelled like caramel.

  “I’ll gather firewood while you bathe,” he said. “I promise not to peek...more than a few dozen times.”

  Laughing, I spun back around. He hadn’t donned a shirt, only pants. The waist dipped low, revealing a dark goodie trail. Eyes up! Right. Cheeks flaming all over again, I looked over the rest of him. From shoulders to ankles, he was littered with gashes and bruises. Each one served as a reminder: he’d put his life in danger to save mine.

  As he prowled toward me, my heart thudded. He stopped only a breath away—still too far. With two fingers under my chin, he gently nudged my gaze to his. Water droplets clung to his lashes. His irises burned white-hot with zero frost.

  I breathed deeply. His cinnamon and nutmeg scent had a piney layer, crisp and clean, and well within the Christmas wheelhouse. My new favorite smell.

  “But,” he added, “you’ll owe me a wood-gathering tax.”

  I snorted. “What is today’s currency?”

  “More of whatever I’m seeing in your expression.”

  “Admiration? Or drool?”

  A husky laugh teased my ears. “I want both,” he said. He stepped back to pull on one boot, then the other, but draped his shirt over his arm. “You know what else I want from you, sweetling?”

  A kiss? Please, be a kiss. “Tell me.”

  “Information,” he said, and my good humor drained. “You are smart and brave, but secretive. You rarely reveal personal details about your life. You are a contradiction. You keep a mirror close, but you do not care what anyone thinks of your appearance. You are protective of Truly, and genuinely like her, but you sometimes watch her warily as if you expect her to hurt you. Vikander amuses you, but you prefer Saxon because he is also protective of Truly. As much as I have watched you, you have watched me, just as warily as Truly. You carry a book about an Evil Queen and a girl named Snow White, which makes me wonder if you are part of my prophecy.”