The Evil Queen

by Showalter, Gena

  Ignore the hurt.

  Despite the odds stacked against me, I gave pleading one last shot. “Let me go, Roth. Hartly isn’t sorcerian. She’s an innocent, and she needs me. After I find her, I’ll present myself to your father, you have my word.”

  His gaze met mine, and I knew. I knew. He wouldn’t be showing me an ounce of mercy. Not now, not ever. “I said I’d help your sister, and I will. After I retrieve Saxon, I will find her.” Thrums of compulsion brewed in his voice as he added, “You will go to my palace. Along the way, you will not attempt to escape. Upon my return, you will heal my father.”

  The commands slammed into me, boom, boom, boom, breaking down my remaining defenses. I’d failed to escape. Now I couldn’t even try. Like a fool, I’d kissed my enemy, revealing my most secret vulnerabilities and desires. I deserved this fate, I really did.

  “Why must I wait until your return?” If I needed to heal the king to meet the conditions of Roth’s compulsion, I wanted to do it sooner rather than later. Then I could launch an escape. Maybe. Probably. “What if he dies?”

  “I want to watch over—him,” he said. Why the hesitation? “Noel assured he will survive until my return.”

  Oh, yes. I remembered. Tone dry as Airaria’s sand, I said, “Believing her is smart. Oracles never mislead or misdirect.”

  He pursed his lips. But he also voiced an amendment. “If my father is going to die, you will heal him before my return.” Done with me now, he refocused on Vikander. “Do you have it?”

  Clipped nod, even as the fairy remained on the lookout for centaurs.

  “Do it,” Roth said, pitiless.

  My skin crawled. “Do what?”

  Vikander faced me, then reached out as if to choke me. Too late, I realized he held a sliver of metal in each hand. Before I could dart away, the metal grew and thickened, curving into a band, one end meeting the other. Click. The edges fused together, a cold, heavy weight settling over my neck.

  The torque, I realized with a frisson of fear. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t rip it off.

  Just like that. My link to Roth fizzled, the heat in my fingers cooling. No magic, no power. I’d been hobbled, rendered helpless.

  Shock...

  Rage...

  But I revealed nothing to Roth. I would not give him the satisfaction.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” I told him. “I don’t think you’re Prince Charming or the Huntsman. I think you are the Evil Queen.”

  Did he just recoil?

  I lifted my chin. “Only minutes ago, we spoke of regrets. News flash. You’ll be bearing the brunt of them. I could have been a powerful ally for you and your family. Instead, I’ll be your worst enemy.”

  The muscle jumped in his jaw, faster than before. He gave me a last sweeping glance, projecting fury, longing and yes, even regret, before nodding at Vikander. “Go.”

  26

  They say pride goes before every fall.

  I say take someone with you—take them all.

  For three stress-filled days, we traveled from sunup to sundown, sometimes riding, sometimes walking, occasionally stopping to eat and rest our horses. I remained in a constant state of agitation, tension burning through my bones like acid, fraying my nerve endings.

  I wasn’t the only one struggling for calm. Allura was ticked off again. Trees vibrated and leaves quivered. Limbs slapped us while roots tripped us.

  Countless times, I’d wanted to shout for help, but Roth’s compulsion kept me silent. I’d wanted to syphon...anyone, but the torque kept me powerless.

  Never had strength mattered more. The stronger I was, the less I could be hurt.

  Face it, if I’d had more magic, more power, I could have prevented this from happening. I could have protected myself.

  If I had more magic and power, I could protect myself and my loved ones forever.

  My only source of hope was Phobia. Twice I’d observed him in the trees, following me, ready and willing to bite my companions if ever I gave the command.

  My main source of upset was Roth. Had the centaurs captured him?

  I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care.

  I’d made zero headway with Truly, yet my stupid heart would not excise her. Okay, okay. I’d made some headway with her. On more than one occasion, I’d caught her studying me, pensive. But it didn’t matter. I wasn’t so pathetic I would settle for scraps—yet.

  Most of all, I wondered about Hartly. Despite the stay-out-of-my-head order, Noel had popped in with daily reports.

  —Nothing has changed. All is well.—

  —Daddy Dearest is searching...but I’m not sure he’s searching for Hartly. Speaking of, your sister-cousin is thriving in her new home.—

  —What has four thumbs and a massive crush? The troll commander and Hartly!—

  Noel’s assurances meant nothing to me. While she couldn’t lie, she could misdirect, as I’d reminded Roth. Hartly and a troll? No.

  Yes, she saw the best in people. Yes, she believed hurt people often hurt others, that they needed love to heal. But trolls were dangerous and irredeemable, their bites toxic.

  You judge all trolls for the actions of a few? Sorcerers are dangerous, too, yet you expect a free pass from Roth.

  My guilt proved as frigid as the wind, ensuring I never warmed up. I exhaled, mist wafting in front of my face. Vikander and Truly seemed impervious to the cold, while I shivered nonstop, my teeth chattering.

  “Are we there yet?” I asked for the thousandth time. Annoying the fairy amused me. If I wasn’t complaining, I was singing, just for the pleasure of watching him cringe.

  “Almost,” he muttered.

  I should have rejoiced.

  Why wasn’t I rejoicing?

  When our horses trotted past a mighty pine, a beam of sunlight found me, the sky no longer obscured by a canopy of leaves. Too bright! My eyes burned and watered. I blinked rapidly, trying to take stock of my new surroundings.

  I tamped down a cry of protest, my insides raw, as if I’d been scrubbed with sandpaper. We had exited the forest, I realized. This. This was why I hadn’t rejoiced. Not ready to say goodbye.

  I’d never really met Allura, who’d often reminded me of a recalcitrant child, but I had to respect her. She’d judged me for my actions, not my origins.

  To be fair, Roth had judged me for my actions, too. I’d hurt him, and he’d retaliated. But he’d been predisposed to hate me.

  Stop thinking about him. I’d been knocked down, but I would rise. Fate expected me to rise.

  Red birds soared across a blue sky filled with pink clouds. Such vibrant colors! Like a painting come to life. Mountains consumed the horizon, trees scattered here and there. Was that... it was! Beneath multiple layers of ice was a yellow brick road. Well, a gold brick road.

  We’re off to see a wizard. The heartless tinman (me), the cowardly lion (Vikander) and the brainless scarecrow (Truly).

  Eventually we reached a charming village smaller than the one I’d seen in the mirror, nestled in a river-rich valley. No avian or palace in sight. People draped in furs meandered along the streets. Some led animals, some led carts. Dark smoke rose from a blazing firepit, where a minotaur blacksmith hammered a sword—I wondered if he and the centaur got into turf wars. Next door to a tavern, a rotund baker sold fresh bread. The scent of yeast made my mouth water.

  “You’re failing at your job, you know,” I told Vikander. We rode the same horse, with me perched in front.

  “How so?”

  “Roth ordered you to keep his new pet fed and watered. For good reason! When hungry, my breed bites. So, do us both a favor and fetch my next meal.”

  The fairy chuckled. “I’ll take my chances.”

  My torque drew curious stares. Vikander got smiles and catcalls, while Truly received envious glowers from fair maid
ens who probably hoped to win the bachelor prince’s rotted heart.

  After another day of nonstop travel, we reached a second village, the one I’d seen in my vision. Miners hauled wheelbarrows piled high with shimmering stones. Avian flew above, and vendors hawked their wares below, selling everything from jewelry to meat on a stick.

  We passed Noel and Ophelia’s shop—Magics, Foretellings and More—and I balled my fists so tightly, my nails cut into my palms. I wanted to leap off the horse and attack. Alas. No sign of the devious twosome.

  A commotion erupted behind us. People shouted warnings, pandemonium sweeping through the village. Racing footsteps pounded against the ice. Different items fell from the tables. Truly paled, and Vikander cursed. I turned and swiveled my head, looking for the source of the panic.

  A large shadow fell over us, blocking out the sun, and my curiosity gave way to dread.

  “Look out!” Truly shouted.

  Something dagger-sharp pierced each of my shoulders, and yanked me into the air. I hissed at the sudden onslaught of pain. Craning my neck, I saw that my attacker had the head and wings of an eagle, with the body, tail and back legs of a lion. Griffin.

  What had Mom told me about them? What, what?

  At the last second, Vikander latched on to my ankle, trying to hold me down with his weight. The griffin merely dug his talons deeper, lifting the fairy, too, nearly wrenching my shoulder out of its socket. Muscles pulled and tore. I gagged, nauseous. So dizzy. As the pain escalated, unbearable, I screamed. Any second, my arm would rip off.

  Breathe, just breathe. Black dots wove through my line of sight as I used my free leg to kick Vikander in the face. “Let go!”

  He tightened his grip. “Can’t! He’ll eat you.”

  “Let him!” Kick, kick. Finally! The fairy lost his grip and dropped, allowing the griffin to soar away with me. The worst of my pain eased, the dizziness and nausea fading, but I remained a prisoner, the creature’s talons embedded deep. “You’re not going to like the taste of me. I’m bitter and tough. I bet the fairy is tender and juicy, seasoned to perfection.”

  He squawked as he whisked me beyond the village, past an overcrowded valley where soldiers trained with swords and spears, and over an unoccupied hill. At last, he retracted his talons. I screamed and flailed as I tumbled through the air, but nothing slowed my momentum.

  This was it, then? The end?

  I crash-landed, impact emptying my lungs. Bones cracked. Jagged icicles knifed from the ground, cutting me as I rolled; I left a trail of blood in my wake. Even when I stopped, the world spun on and on and on.

  Focus! Fueled by white-hot rage and soul-curdling fear, I spat out a mouthful of blood and came up swinging. But the creature flew away, leaving me in the presence of a hated foe.

  Noel, the redheaded, purple-eyed she-devil, stepped from the shadows. Finally! I bowed up, ready to pounce. As before, she wore golden armor and wrinkled clothing. A style I now understood. She spent most of her present in the future.

  “Please accept this gift.” She lobbed a shard of glass at me. “Ophelia enchanted it for your use as a token of our goodwill. You can view anyone, anywhere, even Hartly, but only in present time. The best part? You don’t need access to your power or magic to use it! Just remember, when you see, others sense.”

  Truth? Lie? Either way, I clutched the shard to my chest. My precious. “This will not save you from my wrath. Nothing will. You endangered Hartly.”

  Her purple eyes flashed with fury of her own. “To save her. To save you. To save us all. Not that I’m a savior. Not that you are a savior, either. Far from it. If left unchecked, your evil will infect us all. But, if everyone makes the right choices, hint hint, everything will turn out grand.

  “No one makes the right choice every minute of every day,” I snarled at her. I advanced a step, only to collapse when my ankle buckled. Searing pain shot up my leg, and stars winked through my vision. I swallowed a scream.

  “True,” she said. “But you see only in part. One day, you’ll see clearly. You’ll love this land and its people, and thank me for keeping wars at bay.”

  “Maybe, but that day isn’t today.” I lumbered to a stand. Though I wobbled, I took another step in her direction.

  “Hartly remains unharmed,” she said. “You know I speak true.”

  “I know you misdirect. I know you must be stopped, and I’m the perfect girl for the job. Right now my evil doesn’t feel very checked.”

  Or I would have been, if the griffin hadn’t broken through a wall of clouds, swooped down to capture the oracle and flown away. I screeched with frustration.

  As soon as I quieted, I heard the clomp-clomp of galloping horse hooves. Vikander had given chase. Because of Roth’s compulsion, I couldn’t mount an escape...but I could prepare for my imprisonment.

  Moving at the speed of light, I tore a strip of cloth from the hem of my skirt, anchored the enchanted glass to the inside of my thigh, and sprawled across the dirt as if I was knocked unconscious. I would bide my time, hide my rage and think. Hopefully I would find a compulsion loophole. If not, I would meet the conditions of Roth’s commands, then escape.

  You will go to my palace. Along the way, you will not attempt to escape. Upon my return, you will heal my father.

  I’d have to convince the king he couldn’t afford to wait for his son. Other people could “force” me to disobey the prince, after all.

  With King Challen healed, the compulsion to stay put would be nullified. In theory.

  There was only one way to find out...

  Let’s say it worked. Let’s say I healed the king and nullified the compulsion before Roth’s return. Two problems still remained. The torque, and an inability to syphon from a Charmaine or any of Roth’s people. That particular order hadn’t come with an expiration date. So, I wouldn’t be able to commune with a mirror, cast an illusion or weaken my foes. Someone would give chase.

  Wait. I could cross the torque off my list of problems. If I couldn’t syphon while wearing it, someone would have to remove it. But even without it, I couldn’t syphon from Roth’s healers. They were citizens of his kingdom and off-limits. Unless one of the prince’s commands superseded another? Like, I couldn’t syphon from the citizens...unless I did it to heal the king.

  Again, there was only one way to find out.

  Evil, Roth? You haven’t seen anything yet.

  * * *

  We reached the palace at last, and the sheer magnificence blew my ever-loving mind. The mirror had not done it justice. Backlit by a mountain of ice, the sprawling three-story structure looked like it had been plucked from a dream. Between the second and third levels was a massive stone walkway where guards marched back and forth. Both the left and right sides had a copper-roofed turret.

  “There will be serious consequences if you try to harm Roth’s family or any of his people,” Vikander said.

  “Look at my glorious neck accessory. What harm can I possibly do?” Underestimate me. Please.

  My tasks were set. (1) Convince the king to let me heal him. Or try. (2) Escape the palace without the torque. (3) Return to the forest to find Hartly. (5) Get stronger.

  I’d once hated the way people feared me. Now, I craved that fear. I wanted people to know: screw with me and mine and carnage will follow.

  Brimming with anticipation, I studied the landscape, my escape route. Hills carpeted with flowers of ice created a breathtaking pathway straight to the palace. A pathway that ran alongside a rushing river littered with bobbing icebergs. Steam curled from a moat filled with molten gold.

  A stunning marble waterfall—or goldfall—occupied the center of the driveway.

  Vikander stopped the horse and dismounted, then helped me to my feet. The wounds in my shoulders throbbed, and prickles of pain erupted over every inch of my lower half. Still, I pasted on a smile. Reveal weakness? N
ever again!

  Multiple guards rushed over to aid Truly, all male, and all wearing the same blue jacket, tan pants and knee-high brown boots.

  “What do the stars signify?” I asked Vikander. Some men had stars sewn into their sleeves, others did not.

  “The numbers of battles waged on behalf of the kingdom. The color denotes number. Bronze means one. Silver means ten. Gold means twenty. Guess who has more stars than anyone else?”

  “You?”

  “I’ll give you a hint. He began his military training at the age of three and has already led his army through two wars. Successfully!”

  “So?” I’d known Roth was strong. And brave. And resilient. Not that I admired him anymore.

  “So. He has killed enemies and watched friends die. He has loved and lost. Has hurt, and has been hurt by others. But he has always persevered. You will not break him, Everly, but you could win him, if you fought for him half as much as you fight for your sister.” Vikander led me up the steps, where another contingent of uniformed guards stood sentry. Truly stayed close and quiet, and I tried not to drown in my guilt.

  “When will someone fight for me?” I muttered. When would I be the prize?

  A pair of guards pushed open the lofty double doors, allowing us to enter without a hitch.

  More guards waited inside, lining the walls, each man holding a golden staff. Some of the soldiers leered at me, some scowled. No one projected any hint of concern.

  Ah, we were back to business as usual. How nice for me.

  I marveled at the luxury surrounding me. Elaborate chandeliers. Intricate murals. Paintings framed in gold. Diamond-studded everything and gold-veined floors.

  Greetings to Truly and Vikander rang out. “May you find gold.”

  Then, whispers began to rise from the ranks. Either Roth had somehow sent word of my upcoming visit, or Noel had spread a little gossip. I heard:

  “Evil sorceress.” “White hair.” “Is she the one?” “Does she have the mark?” “Is our kingdom saved...or doomed?”