The Glass Queen

by Gena Showalter

  Ashleigh was crouched before the inedible food in question, poking a vegecake with a fork. “You know, if you only take three bites, you’ll have a full three courses.”

  “A bite is not a course.”

  “It has been for me,” she muttered.

  I stilled, not wanting to believe her but feeling myself soften, anyway.

  I stalked behind the privacy screen to whisper to a potted plant. “Did you hear me? Clothes for Ashleigh as soon as possible. Meaning now. Please?”

  If Everly hadn’t heard my bellows, she would hear my whispers. Listening to plants was an ability that had been granted to her when she’d taken over as Empress of the Forest.

  “I’m going to bathe,” I told Ashleigh. “I won’t remain dressed to preserve modesty I don’t have. Cross the screen at your own pleasure.” The words echoed in my head, and I pursed my lips. First, I’d called her “Asha,” the shortened version of her name, which was a special form of endearment for avian. Now I was teasing her, just as I’d once teased Leonora. “You may feel free to—” I heard the fork scrape across a plate “—eat,” I finished, my tone flat. Better flat than laughing.

  “One step ahead of you,” she called, and I would swear she had a mouthful of food.

  Why, why, why did I want to tease her again?

  In all my lives, I’d never teased an enemy. The fact that I continued to do so with Ashleigh...a foolish, imbecilic part of me had called a truce with this part of her personality.

  Soften a little, and she would take a lot.

  I couldn’t let this life become a repeat of the past.

  Our fates must play out differently this time.

  Temper rising, I stripped out of my soiled battle gear. Weapons clinked as they hit the floor. Naked, I stepped into the warm water. Tucking my wings into my sides, I eased down. Overworked muscles protested. Gashes stung and cuts throbbed. As tension leached from me, I couldn’t complain.

  With a handful of mystical cleansing sands, I washed the filth from my skin. Ribbons of crimson rippled over the water.

  “Should I, um, wash your back or something?” Ashleigh called, surprising me. Even more surprising—I thought I detected a note of excitement in her voice. “I am your palace liaison, after all.”

  I scoured a hand over my mouth to halt a lightning-fast agreement. If she crouched behind me to run her hands over my back, I’d...what? What would I do?

  I’d hate it, of course. Like every time before, I had only to recall our years of pain and death to refortify my dislike of her...at least for a short while.

  “Saxon?” she prompted.

  “No,” I snapped, deciding to say nothing more. I dunked my head under water to scrub my overheated face.

  “All right,” Ashleigh said as I came up for air. Did I detect a note of disappointment? “Let’s talk, then.”

  “Yes. Let’s.” I had more questions for her. “Tell me about your time at the Temple.”

  “It wasn’t fun. Where are my possessions, Saxon? If you have harmed the eggs or burned my papers, I’ll—”

  “What? For the last time, you own only what I give you.” I’d left all four eggs and the designs with Noel and Ophelia for safekeeping. Who would dare steal from a pair of apple babies?

  Ashleigh’s frustration seemed to electrify the air. “You’re making me hate you right now.”

  “Then I’m doing something right.”

  “Oh! You’re just like the honorable but dishonorable prince.”

  The one from the fairy tale I didn’t believe in?

  “In our first incarnation,” I said, “our war erupted about a year after we met. It lasted ten years. In our second, you remembered our past life before me and set the stage for my seduction, claiming you loved me, that we could finally have our happily-ever-after. But I began to remember what you’d done in the past and eventually cut you from my life. That’s when you decided to go to war with me again. We warred for two decades that time. Before you killed me, you told me we would start over a third time, and you were right. During this life, I remembered first and set the stage for your destruction. I’ll wear your hatred like a badge of honor.”

  She sputtered, then stopped as footsteps sounded outside. I heard the swoosh of the tent flap as—I assumed—Everly entered with a dress and a basket of food. The scent of meat, butter, and vegetables taunted my empty stomach.

  “I am not your servant, Sax,” Everly began, “and if you bark one more order at me—oh. Hello, Ashleigh. I thought you’d run away.”

  “Hello, Eve,” Ashleigh said, her voice laced with affection. “I’m embarrassed to say I did indeed run away. A coward’s move. It won’t happen again. But Saxon found me.”

  “I assume you need this dress because your new one is streaked with combat blood.”

  “By the petals’ bloom,” Ashleigh gasped out. A common expression in Fleur. “This new gown is... I have no words.”

  What kind of garment would give her such a breathy tone?

  “Wipe the vegecake off your chin—and fingers—and hair, and I’ll help you change,” the sorceress offered.

  Curiosity piqued, I leaned this way and that, attempting to see past the screen.

  “You are a girl after my own heart,” Everly said with a laugh. “Using hair ribbons to lace up the first gown was freaking brilliant.”

  Everly had once resided in the mortal world and sometimes used words and phrases I couldn’t decipher. I suspected freaking was an expletive of some type. And why hadn’t I chosen a privacy screen with thinner material? Impatience warred with frustration, the two mounting.

  “Thank you,” Ashleigh replied, her pride obvious.

  Clothing rustled, my impatience reaching new heights. I rushed through the bath as quickly as possible.

  “I hear water splashing, Saxy. Don’t you dare peek,” Everly called. “You’ll see the end result only, or I’ll gouge out your eyes.”

  My ears twitched as Ashleigh whispered, “He’ll be your king, but you dare to threaten him?”

  “Of course. Don’t you?”

  “Yes, but I’m his enemy.”

  I stiffened. I was her enemy, just as she was mine. For some reason, I didn’t like hearing her say so.

  More rustling before Everly announced, “All done, Saxon. You can peek as soon as I’m gone. I have a feeling you’re going to complain, and I’ve already reached my man-baby quota for the day.”

  Complain? Why? The second the tent flap closed behind Everly, alerting me to her exit, I shot from the water, dried off, and dressed in a clean white tunic and fresh black leathers. Not bothering with boots, I stalked past the screen, only to draw up short.

  Ashleigh completely and utterly stole my breath.

  She stood in the center of the tent, her dark hair brushed to a glossy shine. Her wide green eyes glittered like emeralds, and a rosy glow highlighted her cheeks. The gown was a true stunner—a thought-dimmer. Silk the same color as her irises molded to soft breasts and cinched waist. The skirt flared at the hips and hung to her toes, dancing over the dirt as she shifted from one foot to the other.

  “Well?” she asked, twirling.

  “You are...you look...” I had no words. Had I ever beheld a more ravishing sight? Or a weaker one? Never had her fragility been more apparent. I wanted to feed her. I needed to feed her. And kiss her. Stiffening further, I said, “Satisfactory.”

  She blink-blinked, her countenance falling. “Satisfactory?” she asked, her tone nothing but a rasp, and my chest tightened. A physical reaction I was beginning to despise. Every time it happened, those awful protective instincts sparked, the urge to comfort the girl nearly irresistible.

  I almost—almost—muttered a retraction. But why admit the truth? What good would it do either of us?

  “Well,” she said, lifting her chin, “you look...cl
ean.”

  The corners of my mouth curved ever so slightly. Minx. “I doubt the vegecake you inhaled satiated your hunger, Asha.” Asha again? “You will dine with me.”

  I stomped to the table, where I held out a chair for her, then claimed the backless one for myself.

  Both vegecakes were gone. The cheese had been plucked from the toothpaste bread. She’d spread the new food over the table’s surface and removed the lids. Steam rose from the dishes.

  Now she scooped a little of everything onto a plate. Lemon-marinated fish. Honey-glazed carrots. Creamed potatoes. Then she scooped a little more. She nibbled on her bottom lip, stared at the dishes, and scooped a little more.

  I let her do it, saying nothing, simply stroking two fingers over my chin, once again trying not to smile. “Take as much as you desire.”

  “I will, thank you. I haven’t had fish in forever,” she said. “My father’s marriage to an Azulian princess comes with some perks, I guess.”

  I was in no mood to discuss her father. “You seem to be on good terms with Eve.”

  She handled the subject change without missing a beat. “I like her. She’s kind. The first friend I’ve had in...ever.”

  Kind? Everly? That wasn’t a word many used for the sharp-tongued sorceress. Of course, people like Ashleigh tended to search for the good in everyone, or some nonsense.

  Softening... How long till Leonora destroyed that part of her?

  I stiffened and dropped my gaze to the food. “What did—do—you hope to do with your life?” Maybe, if I learned more about my greatest enemy’s new incarnation, my reactions to her would lessen.

  “I’m not sure exactly. I need to speak with my father—”

  “I didn’t ask what the king will try to make you do.” Men who attempted to control Leonora tended to die screaming. “I asked what you hope to do with your life. You, Princess Ashleigh.” Would her desires align with the witch’s?

  “Oh. Right.” She cleared her throat. “I’d like to train with a blacksmith to design, make, and sell my weapons.”

  She planned to craft the weapons herself? “That is grueling work.” I knew it firsthand. Craven used to make weapons, too. “Are you strong enough?”

  A flinch. Then she jutted her chin at me, the same way I’d done to my competitors earlier. “Weapons are my passion, Saxon. Why trust their construction to anyone else? And I don’t care if the work is grueling. I’m stronger than I look. I’ll persevere.”

  How confident she sounded. But was it genuine? “To whom will you sell these creations?”

  “To those I deem worthy, who can afford my high quality, expertly made pieces. And don’t try to shame me for expecting my due for my work. I’ll deserve every coin.”

  “I would never shame a craftsman for demanding what their creations are worth. No one wants to labor without recompense.” Even I expected rewards for doing my duty as king.

  Ashleigh’s emerald eyes grew stark, and I wanted to know why.

  I couldn’t ask. I had no right to the answer. I could guess it, though. She didn’t think people would ever take her seriously.

  “What about you?” she whispered. “What’s your passion?”

  I knew better than to present my secrets to an enemy already boxed and bowed, especially this enemy. But the truth slipped out, anyway. “My only passion is working to secure a better future for my people and myself.”

  “Because you feel guilty about your failures in your other lives?” she asked matter-of-factly.

  I narrowed my eyes and nodded, my ire growing at her accurate reading of the situation.

  “That’s understandable.” She tasted the potatoes and closed her eyes, the barest moan escaping her. “Do I taste cream? With potatoes? This might be the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth. In Fleur, they are only ever mixed with herbs.”

  Still she moved so gracefully. My blood heated, a battle raging inside my head. One side wanted to storm from the tent. The other expected to walk around the table and crouch before her, so I could cup her cheeks in my palms and draw her face to mine...so I could press my lips against hers and taste her.

  I squeezed my fork, inadvertently bending the handle.

  Leaning back in my seat, I asked, “What was your first thought about me, when we first met?” A topic sure to cool me.

  Circles of pink painted her cheeks. “What was your first thought about me?”

  That blush... “Did young Ashleigh consider me handsome?” She made a choking sound, and I knew. She had. Tone growing lighter, I said, “I thought you sad and adorable...until memories of our past lives invaded.” Just like that, the lightness evaporated. “I realized who you were.”

  She traced her fork through the carrots, gaze downcast. “I did consider you handsome. At first. Then I realized how cruel you were. The way you glared at me... I was just a child, Saxon. I’d lost my mother only days before, and I had no idea why this winged warrior kept glaring daggers at me.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment, shamed. “I admit Queen Charlotte’s funeral wasn’t my finest hour. I...apologize for the way I treated you.” I gritted out the words. I meant them, but saying them to an enemy still rankled. “I didn’t view you as a child that day, but a centuries-old witch who liked to burn down my homes and murder my families.”

  Another flinch. “The first time Craven and Leonora met, did he enter her home and decide she would move in with him?” she asked, fingering the ring now hidden beneath the dress.

  I went still. “That is a very specific question. Why do you wish to know? Did you relive one of her memories?”

  Her gaze darted guiltily. “I’m curious, that’s all, and I’d like a personal accounting. History books claim he abducted her.”

  I snorted. “She went with him happily, even against the advice of her parents.”

  “Then why did the two go to war?”

  “She went with him happily,” I repeated. “They fell in love, or some warped version of it, then parted, then warred.”

  “Why am I not like you? Why do I have no memory of the past lives?”

  The words Noel had uttered a few weeks—eons ago—played in my head. Exactly like you, but vastly different.

  I hadn’t understood then, and I didn’t understand now.

  “Your mother,” I said, proceeding carefully. “Did your father ever find her murderer?”

  Ashleigh’s eyes blazed before becoming two wide, watery emerald wounds, just as they’d been at the funeral. “N-no.”

  I bit my tongue, going quiet for a moment. I didn’t want to push, but she needed to face the reality of our situation. “Do you ever wonder why someone decided to stab their beloved queen inside the warlock’s chambers?”

  “Yes.” Another croak. “Every day.”

  “Your father told me you passed out just before the murder occurred. You passed out in the garden, too, only to awaken in seconds and attack me. Yesterday, you passed out in the tub, awoke within seconds and conversed with me as if you were Leonora.”

  “I... I was talking in my sleep. People do that. It’s a thing that happens.”

  I glared at her, daring her to look past the veil of innocence draped over her thoughts, shielding her from a terrible past. “But what if I’m telling the truth, Ashleigh? What then?”

  10

  Hark! Heed my warning,

  or die by morning.

  Ashleigh

  I replayed Saxon’s question in my head a million times, but I never offered him an answer. I didn’t know how to answer. Had I done and said things to others unconscious? Probably. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility, considering everything else. But I needed to know for sure, before I attempted to carry the emotional burden of the things I’d been accused of doing. If I had harmed my mother and the warlock, I deserved to drown in guilt, shame, and horror. How cou
ld I know beyond any doubt, though?

  I could maybe afford to pay a witch or an oracle to divine the truth, if I sold my mother’s ring. At the thought, I recoiled. Part with the only thing of hers I owned? Not going to happen. But, again, if I had killed the woman I’d loved above all others, I wasn’t worthy to keep the ring.

  Peering at my wringing fingers, I asked, “What did I say during our bath-time conversation?”

  Saxon’s breath quickened. “You begged me to look my fill and join you in the water.”

  “I did?” I squeaked. Had he memorized my naked body? Could he picture what I looked like naked right this second? “And did you comply?”

  “I did not.”

  Wait. “So you didn’t look at all?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  But he had said...what? That he hadn’t looked his fill?

  Oh. Oh, my.

  He stood and stalked to the trunk, where he sat and focused on cleaning and polishing the weapons he’d dropped earlier, dismissing me.

  Or maybe he just hoped to dismiss me? He remained as stiff as a board, as if his thoughts remained with me.

  I watched as a blue feather danced its way to the ground, my mind whirling. These little tells of his...could he be as aware of me as I was of him? Did I want him to be?

  “Do you have any chores for me to complete before the victory celebration?” For the first time, I would get to attend a party, just like any other girl. Just like any normal, healthy person. That was cause for another celebration. “And don’t even think about leaving me behind. I am your palace liaison. That means I...liaison for you at parties. It’s an official duty.”

  “No,” he groused, like I’d purposely woken him from a nap. “No chores.”

  I tidied the tent anyway, just in case. Saxon’s soiled garments were stuffed into Eve’s basket, alongside the remains of our meal, and given to the avian outside. I worked at a snail’s pace, careful not to dirty myself. I’d never worn so fine a gown, and I would protect it at all cost. And okay, yes. I secretly snagged the feather while I worked, hiding it in my bodice. Payment for a job well done.