The Glass Queen (The Forest of Good and Evil #2) - Gena Showalter Page 0,124

been painted. The candles that emitted a delicate perfume of vanilla bean—his favorite scent?—flicking with light, revealing details I’d previously missed. In the mural, a warlord with blue wings led an army of soldiers toward a clearing that teemed with colorful flowers...where a large shadow had begun to fall.

Upon closer inspection, I knew that shadow represented a dragon. The mural itself must represent Craven’s war with Leonora. Did he have it commissioned as a reminder never to love the supposed witch again?

I rubbed my chest to dull a sudden, sharp pang, the mental debate still raging. I want to see him. But I also don’t want to see him. But I do want to see him. But I don’t. But I do. I don’t. I do. Don’t. Do. Don’t. Do. Argh!

Ultimately, the battle was both won and lost with a single thought. Kiss him tonight, and wonder if he kissed Dior tomorrow?

That one stung. Better to keep my distance from Saxon. I was coming to rely on him too much, anyway.

What would happen if I couldn’t find a way to kill or even permanently subdue the phantom? I’d been so sure of my success...eventually; then she’d agreed to Milo’s proposal on my behalf.

What if I stayed just as I was for the rest of my life? Would Saxon want to be with me?

I could guess the answer, so no, I wouldn’t be meeting him tonight.

With a sniffle, I locked and barred my bedroom door with a chair, then perched at the desk to write a quick note for the avian.

I’m sorry, but I think we need some time apart.

A

Because of the tracker spell, he wouldn’t worry when I failed to show up at the stable. He would know I remained at the palace.

With the note in hand, I entered the secret passage—a small, dark room with a staircase going up and a staircase going down. The magical doorway to the stable stood between the two staircases. At first glance, it appeared to be a full-length mirror. I walked through the liquid glass, emerging in an empty stall, still dry.

After pinning the note to a wooden beam, I wandered about until I found my dragons sleeping in a stall. Just the sight of them swelled my heart with love. I hadn’t meant to wake them, but wake them I did. They bounded up, happy to see me. They must have sensed my sadness, though, because they refused to leave my side.

No help for it. I led my babies through the doorway, returning to the bedroom.

We settled into bed, the two creatures cuddling against me as I read “The Little Cinder Girl.” “That’s me,” I said. “I’m Cinder. Maybe you’re the reason I’m as fast as wind, eh? Are you darlings going to give Momma a ride one day?”

Pagan looked at me as if I was a good little human for realizing something that should have been obvious to a rock.

Just how smart were my dragons, anyway? Or any dragon, for that matter. In only a week, my babies had learned to understand a language I’d needed years to master. Well, not master, but utilize somewhat properly. My tutors used to despair during my lessons, when I’d been more interested in daydreaming about “The Little Cinder Girl.”

Pyre grinned at me, her big, dark eyes alight with possibilities.

Both of my babies gave my cheeks a lick before settling in more comfortably. They drifted back to sleep, smoke curling from their nostrils, and I yawned, ready for a doze myself.

Nope. Not going to happen. I still refused to sleep. Leonora wouldn’t be taking over, and I wouldn’t be meeting with Milo.

I. Would. Not. And that was that.

* * *

I gasped, my eyelids popping open. What. The. What? My jaw dropped. I lay in the catacombs of the palace, right outside Milo’s closed door. Well, the door I assumed belonged to Milo, since the markings on it indicated a warlock’s chamber and reminded me of the one that belonged to his father.

Scowling, I jumped to my feet. Darkened hallows with stone walls and the occasional torch created a maze all around. Dust hung heavy in the frigid air. A random water droplet splashed on the floor.

I’d had enough of these secret meetings. I banged on the door. “Let me in, Milo. I know you’re in there.” He must be.

Footsteps. The door swung open, revealing the warlock. He wore a loose tunic and leather pants, his feet bare. His golden locks were disheveled, as if he’d