The Evil Queen (The Forest of Good and Evil)

by Gena Showalter

  Voice soft, Vikander asked, “Are you here to harm Prince Charmaine or Princess Truly?”

  “No, of course not.” The words left me of their own accord, just as soft as his. We were in our own little world. “I love Truly. I like Roth.” Did I love him, too?

  Oh, crap. Did I?

  No. Not yet, I rushed to assure myself. In that regard, fear had aided me, preventing another Humpy Dumpty fall.

  “What of King Challen, Roth’s father?” Vikander asked. “Or his sister, Princess Farrah? Do you plan to harm them?”

  “No,” I said, the word slightly slurred. Still so dizzy. “I want to save his father and love his sister. Angel.” I frowned. “Something’s wrong. My head...”

  “Enough,” I thought I heard Roth snap from a great distance.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” Vikander released my gaze and stared into the fire. “Everything’s right.”

  The dizziness fled, the world coming back into focus. Saxon was engaged in a conversation with Truly. Roth glared daggers at the fairy.

  A sickening suspicion got tangled up in my mind. Somehow, Vikander had forced the truth out of me. I would have answered anything he’d asked.

  Anger seared me like a hot poker. “How did you do that?”

  He hiked one shoulder. “I asked questions, and you answered.”

  “He mesmerized you. A fairy trick,” Roth explained, the words as sharp as a blade. “He magically coerced you to respond to his queries honestly.”

  Vikander pursed his lips, all come on, bro.

  “I told you not to do it,” Roth said to him. “You disobeyed, I punished.”

  I bristled. “Unless you want to uncage my rage, Viks, don’t do this again.”

  “Why?” Voice like silk, the fairy asked, “Do you have something to hide, Everly?”

  Yes! “Everyone has something to hide. Including you, I’m sure.”

  He narrowed his eyes, black lashes glittering as if dipped in stardust. He opened his mouth to say more, but Roth cut him off.

  “You will not mesmerize her again. She is off-limits to you, always, in every way.”

  I didn’t mean to, but I smirked. Take that, mesmerizer!

  “Know this, and know this well.” Vikander raised his chin and directed his next words at me. “I will do anything to protect Roth. Cross any line, risk any consequence. Long ago, I pledged my life to the betterment of his, and I refuse, absolutely refuse, to break a sacred oath.”

  “I understand the need to protect a loved one.” I admit, I would have done something similar if someone had come sniffing around Hartly or Truly. “But we’ve been together awhile now. Why not interrogate me earlier?”

  “You had no influence on the prince back then.”

  And I did now?

  Roth offered no argument or rebuke, so maybe I did.

  “Strip away my free will again,” I said with gritted teeth, “and I will retaliate.”

  “What will you do?” Vikander took a page from my playbook and rolled his eyes. “Illusion me to death?”

  His mockery chafed. I could do things. Tons of things. He had no idea. If I so desired, I could syphon his power right now. I should syphon his power.

  My fingers twitched, temptation beckoning. Reach out. Take. Make him eat his insults.

  But that was what he hoped for, wasn’t it? To goad me into performing. The more he knew about my abilities, the better he could protect the prince, if ever I attacked. In the end, I said, “Pray you never find out.”

  Truly leaned around Vikander to meet my gaze. “You’re probably wondering about the best way to harm a fairy. Unfortunately, there isn’t one. They regenerate too swiftly. Well, from everything except the touch of a necromantic sorcerer.”

  “You wish to harm me?” Vikander flattened a hand over his heart. “Mission accomplished, princess. Words hurt.”

  She rolled her eyes, too.

  I flipped through my mental files, the ones containing info I’d gleaned from Mom’s long-ago bedtime stories. “Necromantic is...communicating with the dead?”

  “That is one of the definitions, yes,” Roth said. “Another is when the sorcerian have syphoned too much power from others, turning their blood black with antimagic.”

  “Antimagic?” I asked. I’d never before heard the term.

  “When magic has become toxic, a single brush of the sorcerer’s skin against yours is as painful as it is lethal.”

  Great! Another worry to cart around. Not only could I syphon others to death, I could take too much and kill innocents with a touch. Go me.

  Seeking comfort, I shifted and sank deeper into Roth. How quickly I’d come to rely on him. The one thing I shouldn’t do. What if I lost him? What if I lost them all?

  I gazed around at our group, wondering for the millionth time what part Vikander and Saxon played in the fairy tale.

  I’d told Truly to forget the prophecy while we pursued the apple, but my survival depended on my choices. Even if Roth hadn’t been fated to bind me in iron and set me on fire, he was destined to fall in love with Snow White. One look at the girl’s dead body and his feelings for me would wither. Even his dream girl couldn’t compete with true love.

  Perhaps Vikander and Saxon were two of the Seven Protectors. A fairy godfriend and his magic wand?

  Godfriend—a word Noel had used. On the right track, I know it.

  So badly I wanted to summon Foreverly and learn her thoughts. Too much time had passed since we’d spoken.

  “I’ve seen you in this state often,” Roth said, his warm breath fanning the shell of my ear. “You stare off in the distance, your worry palpable. Not knowing what is bothering you...it makes me feel like I have a thorn stuck in my brain. I can think of nothing else. The desire to slay your dragons and present their heads at your feet becomes all-consuming.”

  How did I tell him the girl who refused to lie had been living one since the moment we’d met?

  “Tell me something about yourself,” he intoned. “Anything.”

  “You know everything that matters.”

  “Do I?”

  “Yes!” Being a sorceress shouldn’t matter.

  When I offered no other reply, he huffed with frustration.

  “Ah, is the big, bad prince pouting?” I asked, hoping to tease him from his dark mood.

  “The big, bad prince is brooding. There’s a difference.”

  “Ooh la la. Do tell.”

  “Pouting—childish. Brooding—practically a mating ritual. Admit it, you can barely keep your hands off me.”

  I laughed, but quickly sobered. Look. See. The impulse bombarded me.

  Look. See. Do not delay.

  I unearthed my compact and held it close to my chest. Had something happened? I needed to know. I needed to know now.

  Without a power source, I couldn’t summon Foreverly.

  Think, think. But my mind refused to cooperate, different thoughts set on shuffle. Hartly was in trouble. The time gap had ended, and the fairy tale prepared to reveal another scene.

  21

  Secrets are there, yours for the taking.

  Please be careful, the beast is awaking.

  I lay atop a pallet of furs, the compact still in my hand. A few feet away, Truly slept on a pallet of her own. Her deep, even breaths harmonized with the forest choir: chirping crickets, buzzing locusts, croaking frogs, singing birds and howling wolves.

  Instinct continued to scream at me, keeping me awake. The worst has happened. Look. See. Do not delay!

  Noel? I mentally shouted. I need another reassurance. Tell me Hartly is okay. Tell me Truly isn’t in danger. Tell me Roth is on the right path.

  Not knowing why I felt such foreboding, I could easily consider Hartly both well and hurt. I could imagine danger both headed for Truly and not headed for
Truly. I could believe Roth was both my friend and my enemy.

  Silence.

  Noel! If you continue to ignore me, we’re done.

  I waited.

  Waiting...

  Inside me, urgency and frustration were a ticking time bomb.

  If you won’t tell me, I’ll be forced to syphon from one of my companions.

  Still waiting... Tick, tick, tick.

  I ringed my fingertip around the compact. Should I at least try to summon Foreverly without syphoning from someone else?

  Little hinges creaked as I opened the lid—oh, sweet goodness. Tired eyes stared up at me, glassy with panic. My cheeks were pale, my pale hair tangled from tossing and turning.

  “Tell me why I’m feeling such a dark premonition,” I whispered.

  Tick, tick—

  Boom! The bomb exploded, decimating my resistance. No more waiting. To find answers, I needed a power source. I wouldn’t syphon from Truly, even though we had a wonderful bond in place already. (Note to self: Were bonds the same as links?) I wouldn’t syphon from Allura, either. Lesson learned. Three potentials remained: Roth, Vikander and Saxon.

  They had supply; I had demand.

  What magical ability did the prince wield? Once, he’d touched me and my pain had faded. Would he notice if I borrowed a mere drop of his power, especially if I took it while he slept? He’d probably recover by morning. And really, he’d said he wanted to help me. Had he meant it?

  Risk: after spending time in an altilium, he would hate the sensation of linking and syphoning.

  Could I really hurt him in such a way?

  No. I couldn’t. And I wouldn’t. The experience would be different with me. We liked each other. I just... I didn’t want to link with Vikander or Saxon. I wanted Roth. Only Roth.

  Reward: saving Hartly, if necessary. And if my win-him-over plan failed, I could weaken him and strengthen myself. Attack first, die last.

  I curled my hands into fists. Why was I even debating this? The prince owed me power. A consolation gift for breaking my heart in the future.

  And he would break my heart.

  With Peter, I’d never been emotionally invested. Looking back, I saw the truth so clearly. With Roth, I’d tried to remain detached...on occasion, whenever I’d remembered. But here I was, obviously attached. He intrigued, amused and delighted me. The slightest graze of his fingertips made me burn. His protectiveness thrilled me, and his sense of humor left me giddy.

  But the secret sorceress would never win the beloved prince. I’d been fooling myself. Because if I admitted my secrets and asked to borrow some of his power and he refused, I would resent him. I would blame him for whatever travesty occurred.

  I couldn’t come out and ask him, either. He might rally his defenses, stopping me before I started.

  If I was going to do this—successfully—I couldn’t warn him ahead of time. I had to violate his trust.

  Unease clambered inside me. Oh, looky. Everly is torn in two again. Part of me wanted to end this now. The other part of me wanted to do anything, hurt anyone, to save my sisters.

  Did they need saving? Until I spoke with Foreverly, I wouldn’t know.

  I had to know.

  Very well. Decision made. I would do it. I would syphon from Roth.

  I must be the Evil Queen.

  How could I take from Roth, when I couldn’t see him? Always before, I’d had a direct sight line to my battery. Or in Mom and Hartly’s case, that unshakable bond. What if I accidentally took from Truly?

  I imagined the layout of the camp. The prince slept in the tent next to mine. Saxon slept in the one next to Roth’s, and Vikander patrolled the camp’s perimeter. Maybe if I angled my hand in the prince’s direction?

  I rolled to my side—and my whole body jerked. The spidorpion was perched at the edge of my pallet.

  When my heart decided to restart, I whispered, “What do you want?” Why continue to follow me? I frowned as I studied him. There was something different...his poor tail! The stinger had been removed. “What happened?”

  The little monster skittered over—and bit my wrist. Pain spread through the rest of me, an avalanche of fire and ice. I wanted to scream, needed to scream, but I couldn’t use my muscles. I melted. I froze. My vision hazed, and my head spun, around and around and around.

  Breathe, just breathe.

  Trying. Trying so hard.

  An eternity passed, or maybe just a few minutes. Any second I would die...

  But the pain, heat and cold began to ebb at last. Suddenly, I could breathe again. Gradually, I refocused.

  The little POS watched me with his beady eyes.

  “I saved you from death by boot, and you punish me for it?” No wonder I’d always hated arachnids. Jerks! At least I knew I would recover from a bite. “Thanks tons.”

  Truly stirred behind me, and I stilled, my heart galloping.

  —You stop fearing me, yes?—

  Once again, my whole body jerked. The words had drifted through my mind, clear as a bell. Just as Noel’s had. Which meant I’d heard his thoughts...the way Hartly heard animal thoughts? Crappity, crap, crap! Was I syphoning from my sister?

  I checked my internal power gauge but felt no influx of power.

  Still whispering, I demanded, “How are you talking to me?”

  —I do trade. I no sting, but I speak to you.— He hopped up and down on the pillow. —We friends now, me and you. Yes, yes?—

  He’d traded his stinger for a way to communicate with me? Me? Who would demand his stinger as payment for—Never mind. A mercenary witch. Maybe even Ophelia. But why?

  “I’m not worthy of such a sacrifice,” I told him. “Go and get your stinger back.”

  —We not friends?—

  Were his eyes...watering? Great! Now I wanted to cry. “Fine,” I said. “We’re friends. But my advice hasn’t changed. Go get your stinger.”

  Hop, hop, hop.

  His excitement was contagious. “What’s your name?”

  —No name.—

  That wouldn’t do. “How about I call you Phobia?”

  —Everly and Phobia friends.—

  “Everly and Phobia friends,” I echoed. “But friends don’t hurt each other, okay?” Take a lesson, Morrow. I cringed. “You don’t use me as a snack pack, and I won’t stomp on your guts.”

  —No snack pack, no guts.—He scampered off, disappearing under the tent, his steps jaunty.

  Bite, bam, thank you, ma’am. Whatever. I had more pressing matters to attend to.

  Heart a war drum, I reached out and flattened my palm on the ground, just like I’d done amid combat with the trolls. I angled my fingers in the direction of Roth’s tent and gasped. In an instant, my fingertips heated, power pouring through me. I didn’t have to establish a link first? We had one already?

  I drew from him. Mmm. More! Had I ever experienced anything so sweet?

  What was he experiencing?

  Guilt scorched me. I turned my attention to the compact. As usual, ripples heralded Foreverly’s appearance and excitement followed it. I’d missed her!

  Her makeup was bolder than usual. Currently, she had the smokiest smoky eyes that had ever smoked. Even better, she had Scarlet Letter–red lips. A ruby choker adorned her neck, and a scarlet halter top barely covered her chest.

  My girl had style.

  She’d changed her hair, most of the strands jet-black. Only the locks framing her face remained silvery-white.

  “You know why I summoned you,” I whispered.

  “Look,” she said, waving her hand. As she faded, Nicolas took her place. “See.”

  Fresh tears welled. Despite everything, I missed my stepfather’s stoic presence. Not that he was stoic right now. He scowled at Ophelia, rancor smoldering in his eyes.

  The witc
h stood inside my living room, Hartly at her side. Wearing a dress she’d made from one of Mom’s old comforters, Hartly clutched Thor close to her chest.

  My tears spilled over, the sight of her as much a torment as a soothing balm.

  Nicolas spat, “I won’t let you take her from me, witch. We go together, or not at all.”

  “I owed, I offered. She accepted.” Ophelia spread her arms in a gesture of innocence. “She understands the troll commander cannot be allowed to murder Everly. For the good of Enchantia, he must travel a different path.”

  Terror clogged my throat. Hartly and the troll commander... a couple? No wonder Foreverly didn’t trust the witch and oracle. From the beginning, the deceitful pair had planned to offer my sister to a savage killer.

  “Don’t do this, Harts,” I whispered. Could Nicolas talk Hartly out of it?

  Why hadn’t Ophelia gone back for Hartly sooner? Unless... Was I seeing into the past?

  Surely not. Why feel foreboding over something that had already happened?

  He debuted his oh, really expression. To Ophelia, he said, “Explain why the troll commander won’t kill Hartly, or use her as bait to draw Everly out of hiding.”

  I wasn’t hiding!

  “Trolls have but one maritus,” the witch replied, “someone they do not harm for any reason. We believe Hartly is the commander’s, that she alone can—” Ophelia frowned, shook her head. Glowered. “You’re syphoning from me. Disgusting leech. How are you doing it? I have blocks.”

  Confirmation! Some people had an ability to erect blocks.

  Nicolas grinned, unrepentant, maybe even a little cruel. “I always find a way.”

  Ophelia stepped toward him. “I will rip out your heart!”

  He stood his ground. “Rip away. I’m sure it will tickle. But there is nothing you can do to convince me to let you abscond with my stepdaughter. I vowed to protect her, and I will.”

  Go Nicolas!

  “I do not need to convince you of anything,” the witch said with a grin. “I need only take her.”

  “Hartly,” he snapped.

  “I’m sorry, Nicolas.” My sister gave him a sad smile. “I hate to leave you behind, but just because I hate it, doesn’t mean it’s wrong. If I fail to return to Enchantia tonight, trolls will attack Everly, and she will die. If I must die to save her, so be it.”