The Glass Queen (The Forest of Good and Evil #2) - Gena Showalter Page 0,118

throw unending obstacles in our path? Had our fairy tale twisted so much, we were no longer supposed to be together? Was that it? Were we supposed to prove how hard we’d fight to be together? Or was it something else?

Why did Saxon have to look so beautiful, even now? Why was I falling for him instead of someone—anyone—else? And I was falling for him. I couldn’t even blame fate. With his loyalty, his sense of humor, and yes, even his kind, caring heart, the avian crown prince was winning me over all on his own.

He had many sides, and I thought I might be attracted to all of them. The carefree boy I’d swam with and cuddled, who’d treated my dragons like family. The warrior who had every right to hate me, but protected me instead. The soldier who’d appreciated my designs, when my own family considered them worthless.

The reincarnate who didn’t know I hosted a phantom. Or did he, and he just didn’t care? He’d already begun to piece things together, and he’d only gotten sweeter.

But he still fought to win Dior—and I would much rather he wed her than die in battle. I was still a danger to Saxon, and now I had to deal with a betrothed? I... I just... I had... I... I couldn’t think right now, my emotions too chaotic. My world had just been turned upside down and inside out.

“Father,” I rasped. “Majesty.”

He stopped me before I could say more. “I will hear your thanks now. Nothing else is acceptable.”

Thanks? Thanks? I opened my mouth to shout, I will never wed Milo. The warlock was Leonora’s pawn and my enemy. But it wasn’t a negation that flowed from my tongue. “Yes, Father. Thank you. Marrying my favorite warlock will be a dream come true.”

What! I would never say... I...

Realization hit, and I went cold. Leonora. She’d gained more power over me. Enough to control my speech for a short while.

Please be a short while.

Each time she’d defeated the barrier, she’d only had a few minutes before it reformed.

As much as I wanted to shout That wasn’t me, I remained silent. The truth would do more harm than good.

Father nodded, looking as satisfied as Raven. Milo cast me a smug grin, as if he had me right where he wanted me. Had he and Leonora planned this when they’d met?

Saxon spit out a vile curse and even reached for his new sword, glaring bloody murder at the warlock. “What of my reparation?”

In his most patronizing tone, my father said, “Only moments ago, you told us you had no need of reparation. Or did I mishear?”

With a growl, the avian prowled closer to the king. My father shrank back. When Saxon attempted to go around me, I moved with him, remaining in front of him to stand between the two.

“No,” I said, and oh, thank goodness. I had control of my voice again. I took Saxon’s hand and squeezed, and he offered me a curt nod before backing down.

I had to do a double take. All I had to say was “no,” and he acquiesced? But that couldn’t be right.

My father coughed to cover his moment of fear. “What’s done is done.”

Another growl from Saxon, but he made no other move toward my father.

The majordomo entered the foyer then and bowed. He wore purple velvet, a uniform usually reserved for the royal servants of Fleur. “Your Majesty. Lords and ladies. Your humble servants request the honor of your presence in the dining room, so that we might serve you a delicious meal.”

“Come, come,” Father said, sounding relieved. He hobbled in the direction of the dining hall, expecting everyone to follow.

Milo pushed past Saxon, stopped before me, and bowed. “I will escort you, Princess.” He offered me his arm, his fierce expression telling me to take it—or else.

In the past, I would have snapped to and accepted. But after scheming to protect my dragons, enduring the wrath of an avian prince, getting choked, and finding out I was possessed by an evil phantom, I found I wasn’t intimidated by him any longer. While I needed to speak with Milo about the engagement, about his meetings with Leonora, I wouldn’t tolerate threats of any kind.

And why should I? I wasn’t just Cinder. I was a mother of dragons, the fated one of Craven, a designer of spectacular weapons, and a slayer of wicked phantoms—slay pending. There was nothing I couldn’t do.

“I do not accept,” I told him,