The Evil Queen

by Showalter, Gena

  The guards halted, unsure what to do or who to obey.

  Burning with rage, I zeroed in on Farrah. A section of her bodice had ripped.

  In the fairy tale, EQ choked SW with a bodice...

  Thanks for the tip. I sprang at her. We slammed together, smacked into the ground and rolled. I let her whale on me, not even trying to shield myself, too busy hunting for the dangling material...there!

  I worked my way behind her, wrapping the cloth around her neck. One hard tug, and I cut off her airway.

  She clawed at the makeshift noose, but I held on tight. Reaching back, she batted me. Wham. Wham. Anytime she made contact, a patch of my skin iced over.

  “Do not do this, Everly,” Truly begged, and I realized the illusion had faded. “Please.”

  “Once, I spoke those same words to you,” I snapped. “Refresh my memory. Didn’t you do it anyway?”

  She flinched, but also nocked and aimed an arrow—at my face. “I won’t let you kill her, and I won’t let her kill you. Just...move away from each other. Please!”

  “She threatened you,” I reminded her. “She hates you now.” Just as I’d warned.

  Saxon charged into the room, his massive wings tucked into his side as he pushed through the crowd. He assessed the situation, fury darkening his expression.

  In reflex, I tightened the material around Farrah’s neck. Strangling noises left her as she wiggled against me.

  I casually said, “Welcome home. Where’s Roth?”

  “I flew, he rode,” the avian replied. “He will arrive before the sun sets, and expects his sister to be healthy and whole. Let her go, Everly. Now.”

  Oh, yes. Saxon was absolutely, positively Wingly, one of SW’s Seven Protectors.

  I’d wondered if Truly did double duty as the Huntsman and a protector. Considering her relationship with Farrah had just tanked...

  Getting ahead of myself. They could make up.

  So, I’d leave Truly on the list. Three protectors remained. Maybe Roth did double duty, as well. Prince Charming and Crusty. Or Viper. Nah. Crusty all the way.

  Voice terse, Saxon said, “Do you want Roth to lose his sister the same day he finds out he lost his father?”

  Oh, crap. I loosened my grip. “I could kill you without a qualm, Farrah,” I rasped in her ear. “And I will, if you dare to threaten someone I love again.”

  I could change the present, and the future. One decision at a time. One action at a time.

  I released Farrah and shoved her away from me. Gasping for breath, she collapsed and curled into the fetal position. With all eyes on her, I dashed toward the nearest full-length mirror. Closing in...

  “No!” Saxon shouted.

  Faster... almost there...

  The avian rammed into my back. I fell and landed face-first. Pain. Darkness. I tumbled into an endless pit, one final thought wafting through my mind. The worst is yet to come.

  * * *

  I awoke with a jolt, chilly, damp air engulfing me. Memories surfaced. The return of Snow White and four of her protectors. Truly’s acceptance of our blood connection. My defeat.

  Now I stood upright, shivering. I frowned. My toes were burning hot and freezing cold at the same time because—my eyes widened. A big block of ice covered my feet. Water dripped from it, a shallow pool forming around me.

  Confused, I looked around. Sunlight filtered through the lone window, highlighting a wealth of twirling dust motes...and a familiar room. I withered. I was back in the tower.

  I still wore my nightgown, but something cold and heavy rested against my neck. Suspicious, I reached up and groaned. Yep. The torque. Once again, the ability to syphon and use magic had been taken from me. I was powerless, defenseless. Weak.

  I set my hand over Ty’s faint mark. Though he hadn’t felt my summons the last time I’d worn the metal collar, I prayed he would feel this one.

  “Truly,” I shouted, fighting for freedom. Was she nearby, in a cell of her own?

  I heard sniffles behind me and craned my head around.

  Farrah wiped the tears from her cheeks with a shaky hand. “Your twin is locked in her bedchamber. She’s alive.”

  My heart acted like a bomb, exploding with every beat. Fate’s chosen Snow White stood next to a guard...who held a barbed whip.

  It was then, in that moment, that another puzzle piece clicked. The Evil Queen’s obsession with beauty had nothing to do with appearance, and everything to do with strength.

  To me, nothing was more beautiful than strength. It was the most beautiful attribute anyone could have. I mean, look who I’d crushed on. Roth Charmaine, the strongest boy in all the land.

  Strength was even more beautiful now because I had none, and Farrah had it all. So, yes. The Evil Queen did envy Snow White for her beauty. Greatly.

  “Truly is your girlfriend,” I snapped. “I know you don’t hate her as you claimed. You love her. So help her, don’t hurt her.”

  “Do not blame me for her circumstances. I am not the one who kept secrets.” Hurt mixed with anger, dripping from her words. “As soon as Roth arrives, he will decide her fate. And yours.”

  Would he spare us? “Why not kill me as you threatened?”

  “Oh, I’m tempted. But Noel says your end could spur Roth’s. Since I’m unwilling to risk his life, I must settle for making you regret everything you’ve done to us, and ensure you never do it again.”

  My death could impact Roth, just like my life supposedly impacted Noel and Ophelia? How? Why? “Perhaps you are the Evil Queen, eh?” The girl I’d once considered an angel now clung to hatred and grief, and enjoyed hurting another living being. The same was true of me. Maybe we should start a club.

  Why did fate consider Farrah a heroine worthy of love and me a villain worthy of pain? Better PR?

  The guard lifted his arm to uncoil the whip, then lashed out. Crack. I tried to hold back the scream Farrah so desperately wanted to hear, but I failed. Searing agony consumed every inch of me.

  The next three blows came in quick succession, and I squeezed my eyes shut, doing my best to focus on something, anything else. A future with Truly and Hartly. And Violet? Would she change her mind about me if I proved I didn’t want her crown?

  I wanted my own. And I wanted...Roth. But he would never again want me back.

  Crack.

  I craned my head again and met Farrah’s eyes. Was that...dismay darkening her expression? Had she just flinched? “I never hurt you like this,” I said, wheezing. “Just banished you.”

  “What you did to me hurt worse than a beating!” she cried.

  Crack, crack.

  My whimpers and gasps were as unstoppable as the pain. After the tenth blow, I lost count. Only pride stopped me from begging for mercy I knew I’d never receive. I longed to pass out, prayed for the sweet bliss of darkness, but I remained conscious, hyperaware of the guard’s every move.

  Don’t break down. Don’t give Farrah the satisfaction.

  I thought of Roth, and his immeasurable strength. Would he cheer Farrah for her deeds?

  Crack.

  The pain was excruciating, and growing more intense between every lash, the anticipation of the next blow almost as bad as the blow itself. Soon, breathing became an agony, too. I couldn’t... I needed...

  Crack.

  Argh! I twisted to avoid the next lash. A mistake. The whip’s tail struck the back of my thigh. My nightgown offered no protection, the material shredding, floating to the floor like confetti. I felt as if I’d been dipped in gasoline and set on fire. My vision blurred. My knees buckled, and I fell, the block of ice tipping, leaving me trapped on all fours.

  Crack.

  The whip snaked over my shoulder, slicing into my collarbone. Black dots peppered my vision. Bile rushed up my throat and spewed out of my mouth.

  Like
my nightgown, my pride got shredded. I began to beg. “Please don’t...please...no...stop.” There went the last thread of my dignity.

  As suspected, I received no mercy. The blows continued to rain, until two sets of footsteps registered.

  “Y-you deserve this,” Farrah said. “Maybe, if you experience the consequences of hurting others, maybe if you hurt yourself, you won’t m-murder some other girl’s father.”

  Two sets of footsteps registered.

  “Enough!” Vikander shouted. “Roth never wanted her hurt.”

  “Roth doesn’t know what she’s done,” Farrah choked out, and I thought she might be crying again. “She killed the king, stole our palace and ruined my Truly.”

  “She did two out of three of those things. But she also left things in better shape than she found them,” Vikander said.

  “Princess,” Saxon said, so soft, so gentle. “I’m not asking you to stop. I’m telling you to, as your friend and sworn protector. If you persist, the girl will die and Roth will hate you. You will hate yourself.”

  “You are wrong,” she whispered, broken. “I already hate myself. But I cannot allow this girl’s crimes to go unpunished.”

  Lost in a haze of pain, I was vaguely aware of rustling clothing, more footsteps, the slam of a door and the clink of a lock...of the agonizing passage of time, light slowly conceding victory to darkness...of Vikander and Saxon returning to clean up my vomit and blood, then chip away what remained of the ice, finally freeing my feet.

  Saxon carried me to the bed I’d given Truly and laid me on my stomach. Despite his gentleness, I received a new lesson in agony.

  Raw inside and out, I choked on a sob. I’d known cruelty like Farrah’s existed, but I’d never expected to be a victim of it again...and again. Had I been stronger, the whipping wouldn’t have happened. The marriage wouldn’t have happened.

  I had to get stronger.

  Then, I could escape. I could forget.

  No! Forgetting would be foolish. I needed to remember, always. The memory would stop me from making any more mistakes. Like wanting the wrong person, or showing mercy to an enemy.

  I should have killed Farrah when I’d had the chance.

  The door swung open, and Saxon and Vikander stilled. A dark figure stalked inside the room with all the confidence and authority of a warrior king who’d never known defeat. Roth!

  Too broken to move, I took in as many details as possible. He seemed taller and more thickly muscled, his windblown hair longer. His torn white tunic and black leather pants were streaked with mud and blood, as if he’d run here. A gash marred his brow, and a bruise painted his cheek, as if he’d fought, too. His chest rose and fell with rapid succession, and a fine sheen of sweat damped his face.

  Once, his glittering green irises had excited me. Now? They stirred hate—I hated my desires, I hated his presence and his absence, and most of all I hated his scent; it transported me back to the Enchantian Forest, to a time when we’d lain before a fire, stolen heated touches and whispered secrets in the darkness.

  Fool! I’d made nice with my foes one too many times. The result? Rejection and pain. Well, no more. Never again!

  At least the final caveat of Roth’s compulsion had been met.

  As he stepped toward me, I tensed. The action, though slight, caused pain to rack my body. My stomach gave a violent heave. “Stay away.” The words were barely audible, my throat still raw from my screams. Shame stabbed me.

  To my surprise, Roth screeched to a halt. Before he veiled his expression, I thought I spied horror and rage so hot he could torch the world and laugh while it burned. “Everly,” he said with a moan.

  “Are you happy now? The evil sorceress, the parasite—your dreaded stepmother—got what she deserved, eh? Tell me. Is this the royal girlfriend experience?”

  “I didn’t want this. Didn’t know what was required of you.”

  Some part of me longed to hurt him as deeply as I’d been hurt. “I would have moved mountains to save your father. Because I liked you, and wanted you to like me back. But you were never going to like me. You are judgmental and prejudice, and you don’t deserve my friendship. Just...go away and never come back.”

  34

  Tell the truth or tell a lie.

  Are you ready to say goodbye?

  Roth did leave, and I hated him even more for it. But he returned an hour or so later, surprising me. But then, he must enjoy seeing a sorceress reduced to such a pitiful state.

  “You may enter,” he said at my side.

  Confused, I snapped, “Your mom may enter.”

  His brow wrinkled, but he waved at something—someone—beyond my sightline.

  Shuffling footsteps... A gaggle of servants swarmed into the cell, carrying goodies or cleaning supplies. Guards entered, too, with a more comfortable mattress unsullied with my blood, a privacy screen for the bathroom bucket, clean blankets and new clothes.

  Roth hesitantly asked, “You see my mother’s ghost?”

  You’ve got to be kidding me. “No ghosts,” I replied, too tired to explain the intricacies of mom jokes.

  He slid an arm under my breasts and thighs, then carefully lifted me. As servants exchanged the mattresses, Roth held me against his chest. I fought the urge to curl into him.

  The guards finished quickly and exited, taking the old mattress with them. Just as carefully as he’d lifted me, Roth deposited me atop the new, softer bed.

  A handful of servants remained, scrubbing the chamber from top to bottom.

  A glint of light drew my attention to the floor. My sliver of enchanted glass! It must have fallen from the sheath on my thigh when Roth carried me over.

  One of the servants bent down to pick it up. I panicked and threw myself over the side of the bed. Fire erupted over my back anew, and I cried out.

  “Stop that,” Roth said, and he almost sounded concerned. “You could have opened your wounds.”

  I swatted away his hands and crawled to the shard—ignore the pain, breathe—snatching up my only means of spying on my enemies.

  Once again, the prince lifted me as gently as possible. He returned me to the mattress, new lances of pain shooting through me.

  “Let’s see what you risked everything to acquire.” He lifted my hand and pried my fingers away from the glass.

  Though I tried, I couldn’t stop him. If he took it away... “That’s mine! Give it to me!”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Are you planning to end your life with this?”

  Farrah must not have told him about my ability to scry—yet. “And deny you...the pleasure of...torturing me?” I did the whole bat my lashes at him routine. Maybe he would react better than Challen’s guards. “Everyone deserves to...look at something pretty. I just happen to prefer...that something to be me. Don’t worry...want to live long enough...to watch your kingdom fall.”

  Shut up! The best time to antagonize your jailer? Never.

  React? Oh, yes. A muscle jumped in his jaw—one of his biggest tells. I’d angered him.

  Even still, he released my hand without confiscating the sliver of glass. “You carried a mirror through the forest and constantly reached for it.”

  Be quiet. Offer no response. “You and I have...something in common, then.” The next words spilled from my tongue unbidden. “We both like...to look at me.”

  “Or you fit a certain character’s profile,” he said softly.

  “Aw, look at the handsome prince. Putting pieces of the puzzle together. Well, maybe I do fit a specific profile...but only because...she is...misunderstood.”

  He studied me for a long while, the wheels in his head obviously spinning.

  When I had my breathing under better control, I said, “If you let me go, today, now, I will forgive you for what’s happened. I made the same offer to your father, but he declined. Will you
be as foolish?”

  His expression hardened. “You are too dangerous to roam free, Everly.”

  “Only to those who wrong me, Roth.”

  “Citizens are demanding your head. You are the most wanted woman in the north.”

  “So?”

  “Violet has offered a reward for your heart. You are not safe outside these walls.”

  “Is the big, bad prince worried about his captive?”

  “He...is. If I let you go, someone will attack you. Here, at least, you are safe.”

  “Yes, suuuper safe. Just ask my back. Or your former cook. She poisoned me on my second day as queen. If not for a sorcerer’s aid, I would have died.”

  He pursed his lips before turning away and barking, “Leave us.”

  “But, my lord—” a servant began.

  “I wasn’t asking,” he snarled.

  What, he didn’t want witnesses when he tortured me? “Hate you,” I croaked.

  The servants exited, leaving behind a bowl of water, unused rags and jars of...stuff. I guess I was supposed to clean and bandage my wounds by myself. Good! I would do a sucky job, considering my limited range of motion, but at least I wouldn’t have to endure—

  Roth eased beside me, and a scream of frustration blended with a sob of relief.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “What needs to be done. If I do not patch you up, infection will set in.” He cut away what remained of my soiled nightgown, and draped my lower half with a soft blanket.

  “Why bother? I’m a parasite, remember? A leech you compelled not to syphon from your people. The very people who wished me the most harm. To use my magic, I had to syphon from noncitizens. They are volunteers, and if you dare hurt them...”

  I couldn’t see his face or read his expression, but I felt his body stiffen. “They are free to leave the palace,” he said. “You have my word. I also release you from compulsion.”

  Of course he did. “Only because I can’t syphon now.”

  “The torque saves you from the need. That isn’t a bad thing.”

  “You’re right. It’s awful. Terrible. I’m vulnerable to attack.”