The Evil Queen

by Showalter, Gena

  My eyes widened. And he thought I was smart? My perceptive prince had me pegged to a T. I wore my wariness like a second skin.

  I should have realized he’d seen my book the morning he’d dug through my bag. Breathe, just breathe.

  “Am I right?” he asked softly.

  “I don’t want to talk about this.” Not yet. I wasn’t ready.

  He sighed and traced a fingertip along my jaw. “One day, Everly, I hope you’ll trust me. Until then...”

  Everly, not sweetling. Until then...what? We couldn’t be friends?

  Tell him something personal. One little tidbit. Trust begat trust, and I needed his trust.

  “There is a prophecy.” I peered down at my wringing fingers. “One I think we have in common.”

  “And who do you think I am?”

  I licked my lips and admitted, “I think you are Prince Charming. And not just because of your title and last name. When you smile, you charm the uncharmable.”

  He blinked, surprised. “Perhaps my advisors never made such a connection because they’ve never seen my smile?”

  “Who do they think you are?”

  “The Huntsman.”

  Was that who he most identified with? “I think Truly is the Huntsman. Her magic fits. Though I admit I change my mind about who is who all the time.”

  “You are not alone. I once considered Truly the Huntsman, as well, but I now see her as one of the seven protectors of Snow White...who I believe is my sister.”

  Seven Protectors. Yes. A perfect description.

  And dang, but I liked this, liked bouncing ideas off each other and comparing notes. If Farrah was Snow White, maybe Truly was Prince Charming.

  “Who do you think you are?” Roth asked.

  Never mind. I didn’t like this. “Maybe I’m the boar the Huntsman kills,” I grumbled.

  “You are a tasty piece of meat...”

  I snorted, and he added, “Perhaps I’ve been wrong about myself and Farrah. Perhaps I am Prince Charming, as you believe, and you are Snow White. This hair...the color of moonbeams and frost.” He pinched a flaxen wave between his fingers. “Your passion for life fits. You tease princes. You protect princesses and poisonous spidorpions with the same fervor.”

  Me? Passionate?

  He snagged me around the waist and pulled me closer. I leaned against him, resting my ear against his chest. The swift beat of his heart soothed me. Sunlight had warmed his skin, the decadent heat seeping past my clothing.

  “Any ideas about the Evil Queen?” Maybe I’d been worried for nothing. Maybe I simply hadn’t met the real one. Or maybe I was right about Violet.

  Petting my hair, he said, “Soon after my mother died, my father married Farrah’s mother. In fact, the day she gave birth to Farrah is the day the prophecy was spoken. As desperate as my stepmother was to preserve her youth and beauty, I always believed her to be the Evil Queen.”

  I kissed his chest directly over his heart, and said, “She was cruel to you?”

  “At times. But I loved her. She was the only mother I knew.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Still petting. “In the prophecies, death isn’t always physical, you know.”

  “I know. But...”

  “But still you worry,” he said.

  “I have a sister. Hartly. She communicates with animals. What if she is Snow White? What if you fall in love with her at first sight?” As I spoke, I realized the fear had been inside me all along; it had just been hidden by my worry about my heritage. “You should fall in love with her, and you could! She’s wonderful, and she’s here. Ophelia brought her to Enchantia.”

  “I could, but I won’t.” He sounded certain.

  “How do you know?”

  “I just know,” he said. “How can I want one, when I crave another?”

  He’d just...he’d admitted he craved me. Who did that? And when could I get him to do it again? “Wh-what if Hartly is the boar?”

  “Then I’ll pay Ophelia for a protection spell. I’ll pay Noel for insight and answers.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” He rubbed the tip of his nose against mine. “I had planned to summon the witch and oracle anyway, to pay for your protection spell, and insight about your future.”

  Reeling, I leaned back to thump my chest. “Your, as in mine?”

  “You and no other.” His eyelids turned heavy, his voice thickening. “I want you safe, Everly. Always.”

  My heart swelled with lo—like for him. So much like. “I don’t know what to say, Roth.”

  He cupped one side of my face, holding my gaze, and swiped his thumb over the rise of my cheek. Then he leaned down and pressed his forehead against mine as if I’d become some sort of lifeline. “Say you’re glad you met me when you aren’t afraid you’ll die.”

  “Are you kidding? I am! The gladdest.”

  The corners of his mouth quirked. “I’m glad I met you, too. Now, go for a swim and cool off. I’ll take care of the fire, tax free. But only this once.”

  “Thank you, Roth.”

  “For you? Anything. Always.”

  Here it was, an opportunity to reveal my secret. Do it. Tell him. He would be upset at first, but he would soon realize I was still me; I was still his sweetling.

  The way he looked at me...the way he teased me and comforted me... He couldn’t hate me. Everything would be okay.

  So why did the foreboding come back stronger, as if my heart knew something my mind didn’t? As if my present and my future were about to collide...

  20

  If a warning sounds deep in your soul,

  pay it heed or pay the toll.

  Roth strode off, a tower of strength and beauty. Everything I’d ever wanted. I stood there, my emotions running the gamut. I was falling for him, my mission to remain detached forgotten.

  But I wouldn’t let myself worry. Not because I’d promised Noel I’d do better, but because I knew Roth would catch me.

  Only seconds later, a grinning Truly came bounding past the wall of foliage. “The prince told me to relax with you, that he would start the fire and prepare dinner.”

  Could he be any sweeter?

  “What have you done to him?” she asked with a laugh.

  “What do you mean?” I stripped down to a bra and panties as well as the necklace and signet ring. No way I would risk a theft-by-pixie. But I’d have to be careful. Can’t let her see the starburst pattern. If she noticed, she would have questions I wasn’t ready to answer.

  “You’ve changed him. Once, he had stone around his heart. Somehow, you chiseled it away.” She stripped down to a loose tank top and pair of pantaloons, the outfit reminding me of something I’d once seen in a history book. Half prim, half proper, all old maid.

  “You’ve seen me, right?” I fluffed my hair.

  Another laugh burst from her.

  I waded into the cool water and dove under the surface, every speck of dirt dissolving from my skin. Truly dove in next.

  When she came up for air, I said, “Truly, you know I consider you one of my dearest friends, right? I don’t just like you, I love you.”

  “Um...” She nibbled on her bottom lip as she swam a circle around me. “I consider you a dear friend, too, and I have no desire to hurt your feelings. I’m just not interested in you romantically, Everly. I’m sorry! I’m in love with someone else.”

  I fought a smile. “I’m not interested in you romantically, either.” By the way, I’m your sister. Surprise! “So, who is it you love romantically?”

  A pause. More nibbling. “Roth’s sister,” she whispered. “Princess Farrah Charmaine. I miss her so much. She’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met. Kind, compassionate. Generous. Witty. Fierce.”

  The fact that she’d trusted me with the knowledge
—I wanted to bang my chest like a gorilla. Such sweet progress! The fact that she rambled on about the girl—adorable. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “Please don’t mention this to Roth. He doesn’t know. Actually, no one but Saxon knows. Our parents would not approve, for a royal must do her duty and produce an heir,” she said, reciting what she’d probably heard her entire life.

  Though I already knew the answer, I said, “Does Farrah feel the same way about you?”

  “She does. But she loves her brother, too, and she would rather die than hurt him.”

  “Roth has mentioned her a time or two, and I could tell he adores her and wants her to be happy. If being with you makes her happy...”

  “Yes, but he still cannot break our engagement without starting a war between our kingdoms.” Dejection settled over her, her shoulders rolling in. “A selfish part of me wants him to do it anyway.”

  “If he is Prince Charming, but you are not Snow White, he won’t marry you and there won’t be a war.” Right? This fairy tale had a happy ending for everyone but the Evil Queen.

  Her jaw dropped. “You know about the prophecy?”

  “I do. I’ve discussed it with Roth because...it’s my prophecy, too. I don’t know what part I play, exactly, but I’m here to find out.”

  “So many things make sense now,” she breathed. “Namely, why I’ve felt connected to you from the start.”

  Because we are sisters. Twins.

  Tell her.

  And ruin this ease we had? No! Not yet. But soon.

  The longer I waited, the more betrayed she would feel. I got that. And no matter what, Truly would still like me. Just as Roth would. I was certain of it now. Mostly certain. I just needed to find the perfect time and place...possibly when we reached his palace.

  She floated on her back. “I think I’m the Huntsman, or one of the Seven Protectors.”

  Well, well. Someone else who identified with more than one character. If only I knew what it meant. And it had to mean something.

  Before she could ask which part I played, I told her, “I have an idea. While we’re on this quest for the apple, let’s forget about prophecies and wars. You’re just a normal girl, engaged to a normal boy, and I’m the magnificent femme fatale determined to steal him away from you. I’m going to step up my game.”

  She snickered. “I meant what I said. I’ve never seen the cold-as-ice prince so fascinated by another person.”

  This wasn’t the first time she’d referred to him as ice-cold. And yeah, I’d had the same impression once or twice, especially when his eyes frosted over. But honestly? He was mostly fury and passion, with a fervent zest for life.

  “What kind of girls does he usually prefer?” I asked.

  “A variety. Only one of his relationships ever lasted—that I know of—but he ended things the day his father announced our engagement.”

  Okay. I maybe might have possibly experienced a slight, teeny-tiny, hardly worth mentioning, unexpected prick of jealousy. “Who was she?” And how soon can I drain her?

  Whoa! Where had that thought come from?

  “She’s one of his sister’s ladies-in-waiting,” Truly said.

  “Tall, short? Curvy, thin? Mortal or mythical?” Stop!

  “Short. Curvy. Mortal. Her name is Annica, and she’s all that is kind and graceful.” A teasing light glowed in my twin’s eyes. “This news upsets you?”

  “Yes! Right now, I want to drop-kick Annica into the pit I escaped.” I bet she was the girl I’d seen in his bed. His usual type.

  “But,” Truly added, “she never made him laugh.”

  “Of course she didn’t.” I preened, smoothing a lock of wet hair from my brow. “Where others fail, I prevail.”

  Another snicker.

  We splashed around, and after a while, my fingertips resembled prunes. We got out and dried off, and Truly dressed in a clean, well-made and serviceable gown.

  “Where do you guys get your clean clothes?” I asked. I’d asked before, but no one answered me. “I’ve never seen anyone do laundry. Or carry a bag of supplies, for that matter.”

  “I’m not supposed to say, since others would kill to possess it. But it’s you, so... Roth has an enchanted satchel,” she admitted with a grin. “It was a gift from his father. You’ve seen it. The one with the metal shavings. It has the power to produce any tangible item we request, as long as it fits within the cloth.”

  Amazing!

  As she left to join the guys, I thought I spied a shimmery entity hiding in the shadows. Curious but leery, I made my way over to investigate...and found a cluster of berries and a gorgeous dress made from moss and flower petals.

  More gifts from Allura? Had I been forgiven? “Thank you,” I called.

  Wanting to look my best—only because I had more charming to do, definitely not for any other reason—I brushed my hair and pinched my cheeks for color. Using the berries, I stained my lips a stunning bloodred. After donning the new dress, I spun in a circle and laughed. The best part? I smelled magnificent, like a summer garden.

  When I checked my appearance in a compact, I longed to see Foreverly. Alas. There was no sign of her.

  “I need a permanent power source,” I muttered to a tree. Just in case something went wrong. “Will you share with me, Allura? Pretty please.”

  One minute, two. No response.

  Sighing, I returned to camp. Everyone sat before the fire, a waft of dark smoke carrying the fragrance of caramel and cotton candy. Roth perceived me first, then the others. Conversations ceased. I’d never been shy, but here, now, I battled an intense surge of nervousness as if I’d just bared a part of my soul.

  Roth looked me over slowly. Achingly slow. He stood, closed the distance and lifted my knuckles to his mouth. One kiss, only one, and I felt singed to the bone.

  “You are a goddess,” he said. “The living embodiment of the moon. Both ice and fire.”

  His praise went straight to my head, as potent as the wine he’d once given me. “You are...” Everything.

  In a white tunic that molded to the rows of strength in his chest, black leather pants and combat boots with blades attached to the toes, he looked every inch the warrior prince.

  Firelight adored him, the flickering flames paying homage to his arresting features. Light and shadow embraced him, one after the other, like warring lovers fighting for his attention. My turn. No, mine. I yearned to brush my fingers through his windswept hair.

  And how had I ever considered his eyes frosted? Those shamrocks smoldered.

  Sorry, Annica, but this girl will not share. I hadn’t fought for Peter, but I would fight for Roth.

  “You cannot think of a single word to describe me?” he asked, almost pouting.

  I chuckled at his very human reaction. In our time together, I’d seen many different sides of Roth. Confident. Amused and amusing. Angry. Hurt. Remorseful. Arrogant. Protective. But never vulnerable—until now.

  And it was then, at that moment, that I knew beyond any doubt. I had gotten the fairy tale wrong. Even if I was the Evil Queen, my demise by fire would not be literal. This amazing boy would help me torch the past and start my new beginning.

  “I can’t think of one,” I finally said, and he frowned. “I can think of hundreds. Glorious being at the top of the list.”

  My reward: a slow, sinful grin and heavy-lidded eyes. “That is compliment enough. For now.”

  “Find a cave,” Vikander called.

  Saxon guffawed. Giggling, Truly slapped the fairy’s chest.

  Roth mumbled something about making the fairy eat his own teeth, then escorted me to the firepit. I eased beside Truly, accepting a wood plank topped with a veritable feast of vegetables and fruits. When the prince attempted to sit at my other side, Vikander hurriedly scooted over, blocking him.

  I smot
hered a laugh. Truly tried to do the same but failed. Vikander and Saxon offered wide, toothy grins, daring the prince to comment.

  Expression inscrutable, Roth settled behind me. Resist the urge to lean against him? Impossible. Between my shoulder blades, I felt the erratic pounding of his heartbeat, a mimic of mine.

  “I appreciate the feast,” I said. “My compliments to the chef.”

  “The fruits fell from trees as I walked past, as if in offering.” Roth’s warm breath fanned my crown. “I stumbled upon the vegetables. A garden unguarded by man or beast.”

  I toasted the trees with a jug of wine. “To Allura, then.”

  As we passed around the jug, I missed the convenience of ceramic mugs. Considering who I might be, though, I supposed I should prefer to drink from the skulls of my enemies.

  “You always smell incredible,” Roth whispered, his voice like gravel. He traced his nose up the column of my nape, inhaling deeply. “Like apples dipped in honey. I love honey-dipped apples.” The dark, primal look he gave me...

  I couldn’t mask my shiver. Seriously, was this boy even real? Or had I somehow conjured him from a dream?

  Even when he became absorbed in a conversation with Saxon, some part of him remained attuned to me. As he played with my hair, I closed my eyes and savored the sensations. Peter had never acted as if touching me was a privilege. He’d never openly admired me, or held me just to keep me close.

  How had I missed the warning signs?

  Feeling a gaze upon me, I cracked open my eyelids. Vikander watched me, with his head tilted to the side, his eyes swirling...holding me captive...swirling, mesmerizing... Dizzy, I rubbed my temples.

  “Think I drank too much wine,” I muttered.

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