The Glass Queen

by Gena Showalter

  Didn’t feel as if she had a home, eh? Good, that was good. The more downtrodden she was, the faster Leonora would fight her way to the surface. Surely. So why is my chest tighter than before?

  “You have a new home now,” I said. “This tent. You’ll sleep at the palace, but you’ll spend every waking minute here. You’ll eat and bathe here. When I’m on the battlefield, you’ll tidy up and prepare my meals.”

  “Fine. You want me to move in, great. I’ve lived in worse. But I won’t be bathing here. I don’t have a change of clothes, and I can’t—” Wringing her hands, she said, “I just can’t don this filthy rag again, even if you order it for my second task.”

  “I would only ever order such a garment burned.” After setting the empty tray on the floor, I opened the trunk, its hinges squeaking, and crouched to withdraw a shirt and a pair of leathers. “They’ll be too big for you, but they’ll work for today. Tomorrow, I’ll find something more appropriate.” I handed the items to her, only then realizing my mistake.

  Ashleigh...wearing my clothes...as if I’d claimed her as my own...

  She snatched them, as if she expected me to change my mind at any moment.

  I hated myself, but I was eager to see her in the garments.

  Looking anywhere but my direction, she asked, “Are you planning to watch me bathe?”

  “Absolutely not.” The words rushed out, an assurance for us both. One very specific part of me would like to observe every second, but that particular part could not be trusted; it had gotten me into trouble in the past, igniting both of our love affairs.

  Relieved, she darted behind the privacy screen. My ears twitched as clothing rustled. Already stripping? The water splashed. She must be stepping inside the tub now.

  Heat threatened to bubble from my veins as her sweet scent perfumed the air. All right. Enough of that. I had to readjust my pants before I eased back onto the trunk. “The Temple,” I snapped, desperate for a distraction. “Tell me.”

  “There’s not much to tell.” Her tone...so happy. “I cleaned the trees, which wasn’t an easy chore, let me tell you. Have you ever tried to clean dirt off dirt, Saxon? I collected herbs, fruit, and nuts for our meals, and I distributed food to families who came to visit. I liked that part. I also spent a lot of time recovering from beatings delivered by your soldiers. Your turn to tell me about our time apart. Did you smile when they returned with reports of my screams?”

  What? “You lie.” I had never ordered anyone to seek her out. Instead, I’d waited, building my strength against her magic and fortifying my resistance to her undeniable charms, so that I could be the honored one who took her out.

  “Ask the dryads how many times I crawled to my room, then later had to mop up the trail of blood I’d left behind.” Water splashed. “Why didn’t you inflict the damage yourself? Were you too afraid of the girl who’d burned your wittle wings?” Not so happy anymore.

  That. That was all Leonora. With a snarl, I shoved to my feet and stalked to the other side of the screen to find Ashleigh’s eyes flecked with bright blue.

  A second later, though, those flecks faded and she yelped, sinking chin-deep in the water, draping one arm over her breasts and the other between her legs. “You said you wouldn’t watch,” she shouted.

  I froze, then I spun. Though my back was to her, I knew her cheeks were red, her skin damp. I knew the ends of her hair were clinging to different parts of her. Knew I would never forget the sight of those magnificent curves.

  I knew no other girl would ever compare.

  The second I remembered I stood in the presence of an enemy, I shot around, facing her again. I jutted my chin. More than anyone else in Enchantia, I knew the devastation this girl could cause. I knew the cruelties that lived in her heart.

  “I do not want you behind me. Ever.” I kept my gaze above her head. “An avian soldier wouldn’t attack you without orders from a sovereign. I sent no one, and my mother and sister sent no one. They prefer to do any damage themselves. So take heed, Ashleigh. If you lie to me again—”

  “You’ll make me regret it. Trust me, I know.”

  Glass Princess, indeed. She looked ready to shatter—and I knew because I’d dropped my gaze. I cursed.

  She moaned, adding, “But I’m not lying.”

  Trust was not something I would give her. “Describe to me what the avian did to you at the Temple.”

  “Why should I bother? You won’t believe me.”

  “Try me, anyway.”

  Silence stretched between us, and it was as fragile as she was. Finally, she whispered, “Sometimes a single avian would come. Sometimes five. Mostly, they threw rocks at me as I gathered food and pulled weeds. But every so often, they landed.”

  I bit my tongue to silence another curse and tasted blood. If someone had truly hit her... I would rage.

  My war. My enemy.

  Mine to strike at—in ways of my choosing. No one else had the right.

  “I knew you wouldn’t believe me,” she said, slamming a fist into the water. Droplets flung in every direction. “Why would I lie about this, though?”

  Because...because... I scrubbed a hand down my face. Her word meant nothing to me, but her misery was so real. Maybe she had been harmed. Maybe the avian who’d attacked her had been banished from the Avian Mountains and had no king or queen to corral them?

  “I don’t not believe you,” I grated. “I just need a moment to pick through the details. What you describe goes against everything I know about my people. What’s more, there is a reason you would lie now, just as you lied about other things in the past—to rouse my sympathies and set me against my people.”

  “I have a feeling you own just as many sympathies as mercies. You—” She gasped. “My heart...it’s beating so fast. I think... I...” Splash.

  Ashleigh had just slumped over in the tub...was slipping underwater even now. I rushed over to grab her before she drowned. As I raised her head, the water pouring off her, her eyes popped open.

  Electric-blue irises with no hint of green peered up at me.

  My own heart erupted in a staccato beat, and I reared back, severing contact. The sense of connection I’d lamented was now gone without a trace.

  Finally. The girl had Leonora’s eyes for more than a couple seconds. I had the undeniable proof I’d sought. Ashleigh was the witch, and the witch was Ashleigh. So why wasn’t I rejoicing? I could now gain full reparation with a clear conscience.

  She stood and—my thoughts dulled. Water droplets sluiced down her bare skin, hypnotizing me. Or maybe Ashleigh wasn’t Leonora, after all. Maybe I’d made a mistake. I’d never wanted like this.

  Inner slap. Focus or lose. There were no other options for me.

  “Hello, Craven, my sweet,” she said, a seductive smile budding. “At long last, we’re together again. Go ahead. Admit it. You’re happy to see me. And if not, take a look at the body I’m offering you this lifetime. I think you’ll get very, very happy very, very fast.”

  Like a fool, I heeded the command of my greatest enemy, my worst temptation, and swept my gaze over her incredible form. The first thing I noticed, however? She had bruises on her shoulders, abdomen and thighs, each one about the size of a fist. The sight of them had turned my stomach, fury spilling through me, seething just under the surface of my skin.

  Someone had thrown rocks at her, and that someone would pay. No wonder she’d feared the avian outside.

  My gaze roved over the rest of her. No other bruises were noticeable, only...only...my thoughts fragmented. Exquisite female. More curves than I’d expected. A flush. Would it burn me? Skin that looked as soft as a flower petal.

  Softness wasn’t something I’d known in any of my lifetimes, but suddenly I craved it.

  “I’m hoping we won’t have to fight this time, my love.” She traced a fingertip between the valley of
her breasts. “Do you like what you see?”

  I forced my gaze back to hers, one of the most difficult things I’d ever done. “You don’t want to fight this time? That’s a surprise. I seem to remember being attacked in the garden.”

  “Oh. That.” She waved a hand in dismissal, all grace, confidence, and seduction. “You were building toward a tantrum, and you might have harmed this body beyond repair before we’d even had a chance to reconcile.”

  Reconcile? “You cannot be serious.”

  “Oh, but I am. I am your fated one. We are meant to be together. If you’ll just give me your marriage bracelet, I will vow to never again harm you or any of your people.”

  Marry Leonora? I laughed. A wedding was the one thing she’d always wanted. The one thing I’d never given her. Even as I’d fallen in love the first time, even as obsession for her had consumed me a second time, I’d sensed something was wrong with our relationship.

  “I see you’ve finally remembered our past lives,” I said, deciding not to respond to her proposal.

  “For the moment.”

  Would she be able to erase her memories again? “Is this a permanent stay or a quick visit?” When she had her memories, she had access to her magic, which must turn her eyes blue.

  “What would you like it to be?” she asked.

  “Stay. Please.” My mind screamed, Leave. “I cannot wait to give you the punishment and pain you so rightly deserve.”

  “So you haven’t forgiven me for two minor wars?” She pouted.

  “Minor?” I shouted.

  “Very well,” she continued, and sighed. “If hurting the girl will assuage you, then by all means, hurt the girl. Recovery is no longer a problem. But when the time is right, I will return for good. That’s a vow. Prepare yourself. You will forgive me, just as I’ve forgiven you, and we will be a family at long last.”

  She could control which side of her personality controlled the helm of her mind? Vibrating with menace, I stepped closer, wanting her to see my disgust up close and personal. “I will never be with you again, Nora.”

  The endearment reverberated inside my head, stopping me cold. Why had I used my old nickname for her?

  She grinned, smug now. “Oh, yes. I’ll be back, and you’ll forgive me. You’re halfway there already.” A second later, she collapsed.

  The sense of connection returned in an instant, and I dove for her again. Water splashed over the rim of the tub, soaking parts of my tunic that had escaped the first dunking dry.

  She was featherlight as I lifted her from the bath and carried her to the pallet of furs. Afraid I would break her and seething about it, I laid her down gently and covered her nakedness with the only blanket.

  Mind in chaos, I sat beside her and bent my legs, resting my elbows on my knees. The things she’d said...

  When the time is right... What did timing even matter? We didn’t get to erase memories of our past because we didn’t want to face them, then resurrect them another day, when we did. Yet she’d done so before. Would she do so again? And had she really referred to herself as “the girl”?

  Who would she be when she awoke? Ashleigh, the one without her memories, or Leonora, the one who knew all? Maybe a combination of both? Would she completely forget our conversation the way she’d completely forgotten our argument in the garden? And green-eyed Ashleigh had absolutely forgotten it, her confusion genuine. That wasn’t a manipulation on her part. I just didn’t understand how or why or what it all meant, my emotions all over the place. Fury? Yes. I felt it. Hatred. That, too. But I thought uncertainty might be beleaguering me most.

  If her present life had somehow detached from her past lives, she could—in theory—have two streams of consciousness living inside her head. One ruled at times, one ruled at others. Something that didn’t bode well for me.

  How could I continue to punish the innocent side of her nature? How could I prove myself to my people, if I didn’t punish her?

  My people needed me, despite what they might think. I’d learned from my mistakes...mostly...and I would be a good ruler for them. I would fight to give them a life of peace and prosperity.

  The life I’d denied their ancestors.

  I must continue on this path, no matter what. I couldn’t flounder with my duty anymore.

  I had to.

  So I would.

  When Leonora or Ashleigh awoke, I would be ice-cold. I would be like the Craven of old. Methodical. Driven. Unrelenting.

  Merciless.

  True restitution would begin, the witch’s pain my birthright, no matter her incarnation.

  6

  When her heart is made of vengeance and ice,

  she won’t kill you quick, she’ll kill you thrice.

  Ashleigh

  Usually when I slept, I didn’t dream. I would remain dead to the world, all mental lights snuffed out, leaving me in the dark. But this time, I did dream...about Leonora.

  * * *

  Six months ago, I was a nameless spirit. Then I invaded the body of a royal witch, and everything changed for me. And for her. Her name was Lady Leonora.

  Now my name was Lady Leonora, and she was the nameless spirit.

  Before her, I’d invaded other bodies. Many others. I’d scoured the land for the perfect hosts, stealing precious moments from their lives. But never had I decided to keep one.

  Until now.

  The day I’d taken over the first Leonora, the powerless laughingstock had become a feared warrior, revered by her people, and I’d loved it. So, I’d decided to stay awhile. When her parents doted on me, love shining in their eyes, I’d decided the witch would be my forever hostess. What was hers, was mine. Even family and foes.

  Tonight, I would meet her big bad. The being she’d feared most. I knew because I’d followed her before ghosting inside her and taking over. Her big bad? King Craven, the most vicious avian in all the realm. So powerful he’d crowned himself their king. No one was strong enough to usurp him.

  Of course the twenty-one-year-old witch had feared someone like him. She’d been cloistered since birth, all because of the prophecy that was spoken over her—“The Little Cinder Girl.”

  Her adoring family believed the fairy tale would bring great turmoil to their kingdom. Fearing for their angel’s safety, they’d refused to allow her to leave their village. Fools. Deny fate the perfect end, and it would make you suffer, twisting the tale until you got it right. I’d seen it happen.

  Because the naive original Leonora had never manifested a magical ability—or if she had, the ability had been so abysmal, she hadn’t even known what it was—she’d been ill prepared for conflict and no match for my possession.

  I wielded control over fire, so, once I’d wrested control of the body, “she” had displayed a supernatural ability at long last. The ability to create fire—my ability. The rest of the world simply assumed her magic had finally manifested. But I knew better. Now, everyone considered her—me—the most powerful witch to ever live, and a true Cinder in the making.

  I fluffed my hair. For the first time in my existence, I had a name, a family, a prophecy, and a purpose. I even had a bright future. Before, I’d had no identity at all. One day, I’d simply opened my eyes, surrounded by smoke and flame, a spirit trapped in the land of the living, confused and alone. Nothing but a blank slate. Even then I could start fires with my mind. I’d had no need to eat, and no way to touch anyone else. I’d desperately wanted to touch someone.

  Having no idea what I was, I’d followed oracles and scribes, impatient to be seen, to glean any tidbit of information. When I’d discovered I could possess their bodies, well, I’d begun selecting my hosts based on my needs and their current circumstances, jumping from one to the other every few months without their knowledge. They’d lost a small bit of time, and I’d gained a wealth of experiences.

  For th
e first time, I’d gotten to enjoy the things other people took for granted. Physical sensation. Eating delicious meals. Getting married. Having sex. Being seen, heard, and adored. I’d perused books to learn about myself and soon discovered I was a phantom created by dragon fire and death.

  Today, I hoped to receive a new experience—ending a life. Craven himself. I’d never met him, but he’d killed members of my new coven and threatened my new family. For that, he would die screaming, and all of Enchantia would thank me.

  Earlier, I’d overheard servants whispering about this mighty avian king, how he was just as likely to slay a friend as an enemy and that, if you told him a lie, he would cut out your tongue. If you stole from him, he would chop off your hands. If you ran from him, he would remove your feet with a rusty ax.

  This male now had a big problem with my new parents.

  As the number of witches and warlocks in our coven had grown, the clearing in which we lived had quickly become cramped. Not knowing what else to do, Great Lord Titus—the equivalent of a mortal king—issued an order to spread into Craven’s territory. Just a little. The teeniest bit. Hardly noticeable.

  Craven had taken great offense and launched a campaign to show the warlock sovereign the error of his ways. Yesterday, Titus had surrendered, his magic no match for the terror of the skies.

  In a matter of minutes, Craven would arrive to demand an apology and a pledge of fealty from each of us.

  I would not be giving either one.

  I tightened my grip on the dagger I would be shoving into his rotted heart. Soon he would learn. I could have made him an incredible ally. Instead, he’d made me a fearsome enemy.

  “Whatever he wants, Leonora, give it to him. Please.” Titus stood at my right and patted my free hand. He trembled. “Otherwise he’ll murder us all.”

  Both the Great Lord, the father I’d claimed, and the Coveness Hexelle, the mother I’d always craved, had donned their most luxurious finery. She stunned in a black crystal headdress that boasted a brim and a tall, pointed top, paired with a fitted black gown. Titus wore a black cloak made from the hide of a panther, and an ankle-length black tunic, cinched at the waist with a leather belt.