The Glass Queen

by Gena Showalter

  There. The first competition was done, and Saxon had survived along with half of the others. I could breathe easily again.

  “What a battle,” my father cried, lifting both of his arms.

  The audience went wild, and I scanned the rest of the field. Dead bodies littered the ground. Blood soaked the dirt, and spilled from severed limbs.

  A sweating Saxon remained in place, huffing and puffing every breath. Crimson drenched his torn clothing. Gashes covered his battered frame. As his temporary “palace liaison” or whatever, I should patch those wounds. Yes, yes. I wouldn’t wait for Eve to collect me. I wasn’t a child, and he already knew I’d broken his rules. So why not do my duty?

  “Ophelia?” my father said, breaking into my thoughts.

  “Saxon, of course,” she replied, confusing me.

  Father used his hands to convey a number to the master of ceremonies, who announced, “Thanks to the royal witch, we know who slayed the most combatants. Congratulations, Crown Prince Saxon Skylair! You may choose to eliminate one of the remaining warriors.”

  Saxon stared at the crowd of avian, who occupied one section of the stands. A section shouting, “The mer! The mer!”

  “I choose the mer with the most kills,” Saxon called.

  “That is entrant number eighty-three,” Ophelia piped up, buffing her nails.

  My father flashed the new number at the master of ceremonies, who checked the notations in the book he held and announced, “Corean Acquilia, you have been eliminated!”

  A handsome man in his early twenties cursed and threw a bloody sword at Saxon’s feet, then limped off the field.

  “Way to go, Saxy,” Ophelia shouted, rising to approach the railing. “Whoo-hoo!”

  Noel sidled up to my side with a wide, toothy grin. “Battle blood is so hot right now, don’t you think?”

  The wild things this oracle said.

  “Come back tomorrow for our first voluntary competition,” the master called to one and all. “This test of wits is sure to delight. The winner will be given an extra weapon for the next battle. Or he can keep another opponent from having a weapon at all. Who’s to say?” A dramatic pause. Then, “You! You’re to say. Come early and you can vote for the prize of your choice!”

  Saxon said nothing, just leaped into the air and flew to the left of the field. He headed straight for... Eve, I realized, my nails cutting into the heel of my palm. She stood on the sidelines, as if waiting for him.

  “Do you think they’re courting?” Noel asked, those purple eyes twinkling.

  “Probably,” I muttered. And that was fine. I’d already decided they were the best fit. They could get married and have a million babies for all I cared, just as long as I never had to deal with the avian again.

  He landed directly in front of her, and I told myself to look away, that a girl who didn’t care should act like it, and also spying was wrong or whatever. And it wasn’t like I couldn’t guess what they were going to do—hug and kiss and fawn all over each other. But, he seemed to bark an order at her and, well, I got hooked. Like the worst gossip, I had to know what happened next.

  She poked a finger into his chest and shouted all angry-like into his face. Whatever she said, he didn’t take it well. He bowed up and fisted his hands.

  “I change my mind,” I said. “They might be foes.” Which still didn’t tell me if she was Cinder or not.

  He turned his head to glare up at me, and I reared back. Uh, what’d I do now? If Eve had told him a lie about me, I’d...what? What could I do?

  Hate my weakness!

  “Or maybe he just wants another body to murder,” I mumbled. Seriously. What did he have planned for me?

  No way I would stick around to find out. Heart beating way too fast, I abandoned my companions without a proper goodbye and raced off the dais to push through the masses. For a moment I feared Saxon had given chase, his body heat and rainstorm scent enveloping me. Then I caught sight of him in the sky, flying above the crowd of people now filing out of the coliseum, his gaze darting to and fro, searching, searching.

  Hoping to better blend in, I slowed to keep pace with the people around me. With their help, I could escape the market and return to the palace. I had no more chores in the tent, after all, so Saxon had no need of my services. I could camp out in the library and begin my research on phantoms.

  Problem: as soon as I made it to the cobblestone path that led up the mountain, I ran out of cheese loaf fuel, my body giving out. My lungs burned and my limbs shook as I plopped onto a large rock and peered longingly at the path’s entryway. An archway dripping with hundreds of pink and white flowers.

  Other spectators neared. I smiled and waved, doing my best to pretend I’d chosen to sit here. Those who passed me either ignored me, muttered something about the Glass Princess, or offered a greeting common in their kingdom, proving our guests had come from all over the land.

  Fleur: May your roses forever bloom.

  Sevón: May you always find gold.

  Airaria: May your star always shine.

  Azul: May the water wash you. Or, as a few of their teenagers had said with a leer, “May you always be wet.”

  By the time the crowd tapered off, leaving me alone on the mountainside, I’d recovered enough to stand. I don’t know why, but I was unsurprised when Saxon chose that moment to pounce, landing a few feet away from me.

  Expression disappointingly blank, he crossed his arms over his bare chest. Blood and...other things splattered him from head to toe. Sweet goodness! He had a nipple piercing. “You may show your joy now, Princess. Your avian has arrived.”

  The words, delivered with such a dry tone, drew a snort from me, and my cheeks heated.

  “Why did you run from me, Ashleigh?” His voice had become as blank as his expression.

  “Why do you think, Saxy?” I replied, not even trying to mask my snippiness.

  “I think you ignored my command to visit the market and prepare a meal, feared I would punish you with another task, and hoped to avoid me for the rest of eternity.” He arched a brow, suddenly so smug I longed to slap him. “But that cannot be right. Leonora never runs from anything.”

  “I’m not Leonora!”

  A muscle pulsed under his eye as he extended one hand in a silent command. Take it or else.

  I was tired, hungry, and sore. Why fight him on this? And okay, yes. Maybe part of me wanted to hold his hand. I could pretend he was seeing me home after a long day of metal work.

  I linked my hand with his. He peered at our tangled fingers for a long while, silent, before tugging me close. I gasped, my chest now pressed against his, softness to hardness, clean gown to bloody skin. Every point of contact tingled.

  He wasn’t emotionless anymore. With a voice as hard as iron, he commanded, “Wrap your arms around me.”

  I obeyed without hesitation, and maybe, just maybe, a little eagerness, cupping his nape. I didn’t have to like him to enjoy the feel of his incredible body. All those muscles, all that unbridled strength... Wait. Was that...?

  I patted the cold, hard band anchored around his neck. Metal? He wore one of my pieces?

  “Ophelia made it with magic,” he grumbled, winding one arm across my back and the other under my knees to sweep me up. Then he jumped, spread and flapped his wings, and took us into the air.

  I squealed with delight, even as concern for his injuries rose. “You’re hurt. You should put me down.”

  “I’ll heal.”

  Well. If he wasn’t worried, I wouldn’t worry. “Still. We can consider this flight payment for my design.”

  “My design, you mean.” He flew me up the mountain, whisking us over treetops. Wind danced with my hair, several strands whipping across my cheek. “I hadn’t planned to fly you anywhere ever again,” he admitted with his lips just over my ear.

 
Shivers rushed down my spine at the first breathy caress. “Why? Because I like it?”

  “Exactly.” Another unabashed admission.

  “So, why are you flying me?” I asked, exasperated.

  A pause. Tone gruff, he said, “You outwitted me and deserve a reward.”

  “You mean the dress?” I asked, and he nodded. I almost preened. “I don’t want to tell you how to deal with your enemies or anything, but shouldn’t you discourage my victories?”

  His husky chuckle drifted between us, sending a cascade of heat through me, as slow as a drop of molasses. “If I were wiser, yes, but we both know you make me foolish.” Just like that, his good humor fled. “Are you disappointed that I survived the battle, Princess?”

  “I should be.”

  “Hmm.” He said no more.

  We reached camp, but he didn’t descend. Instead, he flew smooth circles above his tent, opening and closing his mouth.

  Nerves got the better of me. “Just say whatever you have to say, Saxon. As much as I’m enjoying the ride, the company is lacking.”

  “Eve told me about the spat between you and Adriel.” He’d modulated his tone, giving me no clues about his thoughts on the matter.

  Ohhh. Was that why he and Eve had fought? “I didn’t touch your precious soldier, I swear!”

  Saxon sighed, baffling me. “I wasn’t blaming you, Asha. I just wanted you to know that he’ll be punished for his actions. All of my people were warned. They were not to harm you in any way, for any reason.”

  Saxon had taken measures to protect me? “Why would you do such a thing?” It was so anti-Craven, and now I caught myself softening against him, hoping against hope that a good man was buried underneath all his rage and hatred.

  The muscle started pulsing beneath his eye again. “Because,” he grated.

  “Because why?” I insisted.

  “Because...the honor is mine.”

  Well. No more needed to be said on the subject. My hope burned to ash. “Is Asha a shortened version of my name or does it mean something like ‘evil slag’? Just curious.”

  He tensed and cursed, as if I’d just admitted to drowning his best friend, and I didn’t have to wonder why. Having studied people from the sidelines for most of my life, I had a pretty good understanding of how they operated. I suspected he’d just directed his fury at himself. Because Asha was indeed a shortening of my name. A means of showing affection. Because, for a moment, he had felt something kind toward me.

  Withering roses! Weeds! Dandelions! This made his disdain so much harder to bear. “Saxon,” I said.

  “Not another word,” he answered, pushing the words through clenched teeth. He rolled around a cloud.

  I refused to stay silent. “How am I to be punished for my crime this time?” Better to know, so that I could prepare.

  A moment passed. In lieu of an answer, he said, “Enough chatter. Later tonight, there’s to be a victory celebration at the campgrounds. I have much to consider, and even more to do.”

  I would get to attend my first party? My heart raced with excitement. Then I noticed the sardonic curve of his mouth, and foreboding prickled the back of my neck.

  I wasn’t going to like this celebration, was I?

  9

  Oh, be bright. Oh, be merry.

  Do what you must and never tarry.

  SAXON

  I kept Ashleigh in the air longer than necessary, my mind trapped between the present and the past. I’d called her “Asha.” Just as I’d once called Leonora “Nora,” when I’d begun falling in love with her.

  I swallowed a roar, the memory overshadowing the world around me...

  * * *

  The witch was nothing like I’d been led to believe. She wasn’t sweet, and she wasn’t biddable. Not most of the time, anyway. There were moments, though... Moments when she was somehow sad but also joyful, when she looked at me with kind eyes that were a slightly darker shade of blue than usual, and I didn’t feel like a monster who needed to gain more for his people, but a man at rest. I lived for those moments. At all other times, Leonora was the most stubborn, combative being ever to live.

  I’d commanded her to clean, making her my personal servant. She’d refused, adding to the mess instead.

  I’d ordered her to sleep in my chamber. She’d agreed—and barred me from the room.

  I’d demanded she kneel before me like a proper war prize. She’d laughed in my face and purred, “Make me.”

  I did admire her spirit. But I missed those moments.

  Today, she’d decided to reverse her decision to play servant. She served my men their evening meal—a chore I hadn’t assigned her—wearing a sheer scarf dress, her ample curves on display for all to see. Her long red hair hung in mile-long waves, her pale skin flushed. Every step she took, every move she made was designed to attract attention.

  Lust blazed in every onlooker’s eyes, and a desire to commit mass murder unfurled within me. When I could stand it no longer, I banged my fist on the table with enough force to shatter glass. Every gaze shot to me, and all voices went quiet.

  I said nothing, but my message was clear. Within seconds, everyone was staring down at their food.

  Only somewhat mollified, I looked to Leonora. She grinned the smuggest little grin—this was not one of those restful moments.

  The little minx had liked my volatile reaction? Had hoped to rouse my fury? Mission accomplished.

  “Leave us,” I snapped.

  She bristled, snapping back, “I will not.”

  “I wasn’t speaking to you,” I informed her in a gentler tone.

  My men jumped up, chairs skidding behind them. No one argued. In a hurry, they fled as fast as their booted feet would carry them.

  Leonora remained in place, not the least bit afraid to be alone with me. A first. Most people would have begged for my forgiveness by now.

  I crooked my finger at her, curious about her response.

  For once, she obeyed without delay. Only, she did it her own way, sauntering over slowly. The second she stood within reach, I grabbed her by the waist and set her atop the table.

  “You were jealous, warrior,” she purred. “Admit it.”

  I shook my head. “I have no need of jealousy. As a king, I have everything I’ve ever wanted.” So why am I unsatisfied, nearly every minute of every day? “But I am drawn to you more intensely than anyone I’ve ever met.” It was as if she had been made just for me, but that couldn’t be right. My wings hadn’t produced the amour, the special dust reserved for my fated one. “Why? Why am I drawn to you?”

  Was something wrong with me? Or with her?

  She traced a fingertip around my lips, as if she had every right to put her hands on me without first receiving permission. “You ask the wrong question, Your Majesty.”

  I could not look away from her—I didn’t want to. She’d snared me completely. “And what is the right one, sweet Nora?”

  Her pupils exploded over her irises, black consuming blue. “Nora...” She rewarded me with a soft smile. “I like it.”

  As did I. “The right question,” I prompted. “What is it?”

  Leaning closer, she whispered, “Why haven’t we done anything about your obsession with me?”

  Every muscle in my body hardened to stone. “Is the obsession mutual?”

  A new grin lifted the corners of her lips. “Why don’t you kiss me and find out?”

  * * *

  “Are we flying circles around the campground for a reason?” Ashleigh asked, drawing me from my thoughts.

  My cheeks burned as I switched our angle, descending. When we landed, the guards around my tent grinned and bowed to me.

  My participation in the tournament was working as I’d hoped, teaching my army to trust me. And yet...

  Still no satisfaction. Lik
e Craven, I remained unfulfilled.

  I didn’t release my bundle until I’d entered the tent, the flap swooshing closed behind us. Though I longed to keep Ashleigh’s softness pressed against me, I forced myself to set her down. Pried my arms from her. We would consider this a test of sorts. Would she go on the defensive and attack?

  As I’d requested after the battle, Eve—the illusion form of Everly—had ensured that my soldiers procured two carafes of water and filled the tub with steaming water. A loaf of bread with—I frowned. Was that toothpaste smeared on top? Surely not. The mystery bread sat atop the trunk, between two tasteless patties Everly had made me before. Abominations she referred to as “vegecakes.”

  I’d ordered my people not to aid Ashleigh a second time. Then I’d asked Everly to stay with Adriel and report his interactions with Ashleigh to me. Which she’d done. But Everly wasn’t a true avian and she’d also helped the girl despite my wishes.

  I should have expected it and prepared accordingly—I shouldn’t be reluctantly impressed with the pair.

  “This doesn’t look like a three-course meal,” I remarked.

  “Then your eyes are being truthful with you. This is something even better. A three-ingredient meal. It’s much rarer. A delicacy some would say, probably.”

  “Tell me who would say this.”

  “I’ve saved you from overeating, okay? Gluttony, and all that. Oh, the vegecakes,” Ashleigh cried, jumping up and down.

  The excitement in her voice drew my gaze to her. How she glowed. By the holy stars, she made me crave things I couldn’t have and shouldn’t want. But I’d left smears of blood and viscera all over her gown, and the sight struck me as obscene.

  “Cheese loaves and vegecakes,” she said with a nod. “Now we’ve got ourselves a two-course meal. Let’s consider this a beautiful compromise between us.”

  She had an answer for everything. But so did I. “I do not compromise.” I stomped to the entrance and opened the flap, shouting, “Eve? Where are you?” My men expected such a demanding tone from their leader. A testament of my strength, I supposed. But the Evil Queen would rage if I wasn’t careful. “Ashleigh requires a new gown. And someone bring me food that I can actually eat.” I let the flap close again.