The Glass Queen

by Gena Showalter

  When evening arrived, darkness fell over the land and sunshine dawned in my heart, anticipation making me weak in the knees. Laughter drifted into the tent, soon growing louder and more prevalent, bringing with it the scent of roasting meat.

  The party had officially started.

  In a matter of minutes, I could be out there, living life and having fun. How to prod Saxon to hurry without seeming to prod Saxon?

  “I bet your men are wondering why their future king hasn’t arrived,” I said, keeping my tone observational.

  “You’re right.” He donned the royal avian sash, crossing the cerulean rope over his wide chest. After cinching a leather belt around his waist and anchoring the brass knuckle daggers to his sides, he thrust his feet into clean boots.

  In my dream, Leonora hadn’t considered him traditionally handsome, but I did. I considered him the standard by which other males should be compared. Minus his thirst for revenge, of course. Tonight, this avian prince would be greatly desired. Everyone would wish to dance with him.

  If he were the fairy-tale prince, he might even find his Cinder.

  My heart leaped. What would that mean for me?

  When he approached the tent flap, ready to go, I rushed to his side. He paused to give me a scathing look.

  “You,” he grated, “will be staying in the tent.”

  I was pretty sure I would feel the burn of that look forever. His voice was just as hot, singeing my ears. Before I erupted, I would try to reason with him. Using my calmest voice possible—unfortunately, that was a screech—I told him, “You have no justifiable right to keep me from the party. I completed all my chores. You said so yourself. I even went above and beyond to charm you with my winning personality.”

  He raised his chin. “Nevertheless. You attended the tournament without permission, so, you’ll stay here this evening. Official duty or not. Don’t bother trying to sneak out. I had Ophelia cast a border spell around the tent. No longer can you leave without my express permission.”

  “How can you do this?” More important, why was I still drawn to him? Why were his eyes haunted, despite his disdain? Voice wobbling, I told him, “I’ve never attended a party before, Saxon.”

  “Next time obey my commands,” he snapped before stomping out.

  I stood there, in shock, as he called to his people, “Tonight, be merry, for your crown prince will be.”

  He’d done it. He’d actually done it.

  Jubilant cheers went on and on and on. When they finally died down a thousand years later, Saxon dished out compliments to his men about doing their jobs well, then said, “Adriel. A word.”

  Scorch my roses. The wicked prince had actually left me behind to listen and wonder and dream about what could be. His cruelty knew no bounds.

  This? This was classic evil stepmother behavior. And if he wasn’t the evil stepmother, Leonora had to be, since she was equally responsible for my incarceration; I must be Cinder, our similarities literal rather than symbolic. For that matter, “strong of heart” could be symbolic rather than literal.

  A person’s heart...their essence. Strong of heart—strong of character?

  The thought hit me, and I hissed in a breath. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. I knew I’d just found the right road. I was Cinder, strong of character. Saxon was the prince or the stepmother. Leonora was the stepmother or a stepsister. If she was a phantom, and I was possessed by her, we were forced family.

  In my dream, the first Leonora had been part of “The Little Cinder Girl,” too, a fairy tale that had not been fulfilled back then. Could it have twisted...me? What did it mean that I was “as fast as wind”? How could I become a warrior set apart, unwilling to bend?

  Become. The word echoed in my mind. That’s right. I wasn’t fast as wind or unwilling to bend—yet. But I could become so. One day I could be both gloriously fast and amazingly strong. One day I would be. The prophecy had spoken of the future, not the past or the present.

  I almost couldn’t process my good fortune. The things I had to look forward to!

  Dazed, I made my way to the furs and plopped down. “I am Cinder,” I whispered, pressing a hand to my chest. Then, knowing no one outside the tent could hear me, I shouted, “I am Cinder.”

  The part of me I’d denied for so long had been right. I was the girl unwanted by her family and tormented at every turn. In my case, the obvious choice had been the most unexpected one.

  As Cinder, I would get a happily-ever-after. The only way to be truly happy, though? Attend that celebration party.

  In the fairy tale, Cinder always found a way to attend the festivities without being found out. So, I would, too.

  Determined, I climbed to my feet. A thought occurred to me. Before I found a way past the border spell, I should craft a weapon, just in case I ran into Trio or any other vengeful avian.

  Though I’d been so protective of my new dress before, I accepted that my safety came before my appearance and dropped to my knees to dig up my sticks and nails.

  I cut discreet pockets into my skirt...as discreet as possible, anyway, then used one of my new hair ribbons to anchor the sticks to my outer thighs. I used a second ribbon to create my own nail-knuckles. I pushed the nails through the material, tied the ribbon around my knuckles.

  Now, to escape. I was humble enough to admit I would need help. A powerful witch, perhaps, who had created the border spell in the first place. Surely she of all people would be able to hear me. “Ophelia,” I called. “Ophelia, I need your help and I’m willing to pay everything I have...which is nothing.” Would Noel have a vision of me, if I called for her? “Noel?”

  “Hello, hello. Did someone summon a fairy godwitch?”

  Startled, I swung around. Ophelia and Noel stood roughly ten feet away, grinning at me. “It worked.”

  Noel waved a hand through the air. “Sorry for the delay. I heard your cry for help hours ago, but I only just now got bored enough to find out what’s going on.”

  Hours ago? “What are you—”

  “Before we get too far into this conversation,” Ophelia interrupted, “you should probably know that I won’t be removing the border spell. Saxon paid good money for it, and my reputation as a quality spellitician is on the line.”

  Fair point. “Maybe you can magically transport me past the boundary? He paid you to create the spell, not to keep me locked up, correct?”

  Noel hiked her thumb in my direction, saying to Ophelia, “I knew I’d like this one.”

  “One thing,” I rushed to add. “I have no means to pay you for this service.”

  “And I rescind my pledge of admiration,” Noel said.

  “Oh, you have the means all right. You have four dragon eggs.” Ophelia sauntered to a corner, where we kept the potted plants, and ran a finger over the leaves, as if inspecting them for dust. “We want two of those eggs. And that is nonnegotiable, so don’t try to negotiate.”

  “My eggs?” Never. “Saxon has them. I don’t know where they are.” But I would. I would find them.

  “You let us take care of that.” Noel batted her lashes at me, not even close to innocent. “Do we have a deal?”

  “No. We don’t. Why do you want them?” As soon as I found them, I would be returning them to the ground, near the Temple, so that they could continue to age in peace.

  Saxon claimed all dragons were monsters, but every fiber of my being screamed that he was wrong.

  “Do we have a deal or not?” Noel asked, ignoring my question.

  “No,” I repeated. “We do not.”

  “Excellent,” she said. “We have a deal.”

  “I said no.”

  “Which means you passed my ingenious test.” She patted me on top of the head, as if I were a good little girl. “I award you an A-plus for loyalty.”

  Ophelia winked at me. “Now that that’s settled,
go to the party and ibitty, bibbity, bop, bop, boo. And don’t ask me what that means.”

  One second I stood inside the tent, the next I stood outside the back of it. The witch had transported me past the border, and I had zero side effects.

  I meant to hurry off, but I stood spellbound, taking in the festivities. Light from multiple firepits illuminated a winding path littered with warriors, mortals, and creatures, all mingled together.

  A cool breeze caressed my skin, layered with stronger hints of smoke and the scent of roasting meat, pine, and perfume.

  As if drawn by an invisible cord, I stumbled forward. Despite my fascination with my surroundings, I remembered to stick to the shadows as I maneuvered around partygoers and trees. When the avian campground got lost in the sights behind me, I grinned. I’d done it. I’d bested Saxon once again.

  The sweetest song drifted to my ears. In the distance, someone was playing a flute. I bet people were dancing.

  I quickened my pace and rounded a cluster of trees, following the sound. The number of trees seemed to have doubled in a single day. Goodness. From now on, I needed to better observe my surroundings, so I wouldn’t feel as if I entered a whole new world every time I exited Saxon’s tent.

  Few people recognized me. Those that did whispered, “It’s the Glass Princess,” To their companions. After three years of hard work at the Temple, I felt I deserved a new nickname. Metal Wench, maybe? Oh, what a glorious night.

  “—fist cracked open his skull,” one gorgon was saying to another as I passed another firepit. “I turned his brain to stone and smashed it into dust.”

  A wolfin stumbled past me and burped.

  I stutter-stepped when I caught sight of Trio. He was speaking with a scantily clad mortal woman.

  “—but a gold coin will buy you an hour,” she was saying as she traced a finger down his chest.

  “For a gold coin, I expect you to be on your knees—”

  Moving on. I hurried forward, my feet seeming to know where to go, as if I’d made this trek a thousand times. I didn’t resist, curious to know where I’d end up. As I rounded a large oak, everything changed. Dizziness lashed me, and I swayed. The temperature dropped drastically, my teeth chattering.

  Um... I spun. What...how...? I had been transported to somewhere in the Enchantian Forest. I would forever recognize the azure glow that radiated from every inch of bark, wildflower, and speck of dirt.

  The dizziness I’d felt... I’d felt it with Eve, too, when she’d used her voice magic. But, I wasn’t anywhere near the avian this time.

  My teeth-chattering worsened. I must have traveled through an invisible doorway. But where was it now? I sensed...nothing. How was I to return to the campground?

  Fighting panic, I listened for any hint of laughter, music, or conversation. I heard chirping frogs...rustling leaves...rattling branches...a whistle of wind. I looked left, right. Backward. Forward. Left again. Up, down. The forest remained, no sign of the celebration.

  Behind me, a twig snapped. I jerked around, fisting the hand with the nails. Up ahead, illuminated by a lone ray of moonlight, a couple kissed as if the world was soon to end. I recognized the girl, no problem. I would never forget those wings.

  Eve.

  I’d been close to the avian, after all. Though I didn’t understand how or why her voice magic would bring me here. And who was she with?

  I gaped when his identity clicked. The red-eyed fae from today’s battle. I’d noticed his great skill because he’d had a style similar to Saxon’s. He was all grace and savagery, with some brute force thrown into the mix.

  Eve was kissing Saxon’s competition. Was she conspiring with him, too? Working against Saxon? Endangering him?

  I... I didn’t care. Because I refused—absolutely refused—to waste a single moment fretting about the boy who’d left me in that tent to suffer.

  But I would tell him about what I’d seen. Maybe. Probably. I doubted he’d believe me, so why bother? His soldier, his problem. Besides, he would only rage about my party attendance and lob another punishment at me.

  Whenever my father had upset my mother, Momma had whispered, To my own life will I tend, for others’ evil always has an end.

  Sage advice. I would take it.

  Slow and steady, I backed away from the kissing couple, now one hundred percent certain I would be tending to my own life and keeping my mouth shut. Ninety-five percent certain. Eighty. Eighty percent. A good, solid seventy—sixty-five percent.

  Saxon didn’t deserve my help. End of story.

  On the other hand, Eve was part of “The Little Cinder Girl.” If I was Cinder, and I was, and Saxon was the prince, and he might be, maybe, possibly, then Eve could be an evil stepsister or something. Then, Saxon and I would have to team up to defeat a common foe. As we worked together, we would become friends. Then he would fall in love with me. He’d have to absolve me of my crimes then. And I could leave him in my dust.

  All right, I was definitely fifty percent certain I would be keeping my mouth shut.

  “Boo!”

  I whirled around. Once again, Noel and Ophelia had appeared in a blink, just a few feet away from me.

  “Shhh.” I whispered, “What are you doing here?”

  “There you are,” Noel said in a normal tone. Of course, she ignored my question. “You couldn’t wait five minutes for us to catch up? I mean, I know we weren’t even trying to catch up because we were too busy searching Saxon’s tent for any hidden goodies, until I remembered I’d forgotten to tell you to avoid our magical doorways. Which probably makes no sense if you don’t know that you’re drawn to Ophelia’s magical doorways when others are repelled by them.”

  I had felt as if I were being pulled to the doorway.

  Before I could launch my volley of questions, Ophelia lamented, “That’s all anyone wants from me anymore. People buy personal make-out doorways from me. I’m a lowly door maker now. A footnote in every tale. No more important than a cobbler.”

  “Or a talking mouse,” Noel added helpfully.

  Brow furrowing, I asked, “Why am I drawn to your doorways? What makes me so different?” And oh, goodie. One more disparity between me and other girls. No big deal. Whatever. It was fine.

  Looking past me, Ophelia called, “Do better at closing your seven minutes in heaven gateway next time, Eve. Ashleigh is drawn to its magic because I put a little something extra in Saxon’s spell, because I’m a giver like that. And because the fallout is going to bring me much amusement. Also, don’t you both have jobs to do?”

  Something extra? For me? In a spell for Saxon? Did she refer to the sound barrier around the tent, or something else?

  Eve and her fae whipped their attention our way. They muttered curses and stomped off. Out of habit, I clasped my mother’s ring. Would the two attempt to pull me aside later to threaten me just in case I ever decided to share their secret? Or would Eve run straight to Saxon and tell him naughty Ashleigh had snuck out and oh, yeah, she might lie about seeing her with the fae?

  Noel and Ophelia flanked me, linking their arms with mine. They led me forward in perfect sync.

  “I don’t understand any of this,” I said.

  “But you will understand, one day, and isn’t that the important thing?” the witch asked.

  No. I wanted to know now. “Where are we going?”

  “We’re returning you to the party, of course. I’ve had my fun.” Ophelia patted my hand. “Now I get to watch you have yours.”

  Noel rested her cheek on my shoulder, as if we’d been best friends for years. “You really angered your avian prince, huh. Good girl.”

  Did she refer to the future or the past? “You want me to anger Saxon?”

  “Why would I want you to anger him? He’s my friend.” Her brows knitted together, a crease forming above the bridge of her nose. “I think so
meone needs to remember to put on her listening ears from now on.”

  “But you just said—” Oh, never mind. What did I care if I had angered or would anger the prince? He already disliked me.

  “By the way,” Noel said. “I left a present in your bedroom at home. You’re welcome. When you see it, scream. You’ll be glad you did.”

  A present? For me? “Free of charge?” Best to be clear.

  “As if. But don’t worry, you already paid me.” She did the innocent-evil lashes-batting thing. “Don’t you remember? You gave me one of your designs. A dagger with spring-loaded spikes.”

  “No. I most certainly did not give you one of my designs.” I’d never given anyone one of my designs.

  “Let me rephrase, then. I stole one of your designs from Saxon. Now we’re even. Isn’t that nice?”

  Between one step and the next, my entire world changed. The forest vanished, the celebration reappearing, firepits, flute, laughter, and all. An-n-nd the oracle and the witch had disappeared. But why would they—oh, who cared? They were weird and mysterious, and I had some dancing to do and a decision to make about Eve.

  I doubted she’d try to murder Saxon tonight or anything, but I was also kind of willing to risk it.

  “And who is this tasty little treat?” a troll called. He was tall, at least seven foot, with massive horns protruding from his scalp and tusks extending past his bottom lip. Metal piercings climbed the ridge of a very prominent nose and covered the entire length of his jaw.

  I tightened my hold on the ribbon and quickened my step. If he followed me, I would strike. But as I turned another corner, he did not. I heaved a relieved sigh. Another turn, and I found the flute player. A satyr. He had the top half of a man and the bottom half of a goat, complete with fur and hooves, and he stood beside a blazing firepit. His only clothing was a loincloth.

  At least twenty people danced around him, but no one I recognized. Unsure of my reception, I eased forward. When no protests were issued, I joined the dancers, hopping and skipping and twirling in circles just like them. It wasn’t long before my heartbeat thudded and sweat dotted my brow, but I didn’t slow. This was truly living.