The Glass Queen (The Forest of Good and Evil #2) - Gena Showalter Page 0,14

while they were needed.

I would love to speak with a blacksmith. Maybe spend a day watching as one worked. So far, I’d only ever crafted my daggers from objects I’d found in the forest.

By the time I finished the floors—the first time—my energy was drained, fatigue holding me captive. And I still had to go outside to rake leaves and gather herbs.

Ugh. My stomach twisted, nervousness rising. I hated going outside. But still I did it. If I didn’t work, I didn’t eat.

I liked to eat.

Sighing, I grabbed my basket and strode to the nearest exit, where I stopped. A crisp, warm breeze caressed my skin, seeping past my threadbare sackcloth. A squirrel sprinted along a tree branch, spotted me, and halted.

As he spun to make a hasty retreat, I stuck out my tongue. He wasn’t the first critter to run away from me, and I doubted he would be the last. For whatever reason, animals despised me just as people did. Which I still didn’t understand. I wasn’t useless or stupid. I had talents and a lot of love to give. Shouldn’t character define a person rather than physical ability?

Before I emerged any farther, I performed a quick sky check, on the lookout for avian.

About once a month, a group of them showed up to fly overhead and throw rocks at my head. A few times, they’d even landed...

I shuddered. I was due for another visitation any day.

There was no telltale sign of wings, thank goodness. Still, I performed a weapon’s check next, making sure my makeshift dagger was hidden beneath the pocket I’d sown into my dress.

All right. Good to go. I hurried out to war with the leaves and hunt the proper herbs. By the time I finished, the day had grown quite hot. My limbs shook from exertion. Sweat soaked me, and dirt streaked me. Better return to the Temple before I passed out.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

I went still, my heart suddenly banging on my ribs. I knew that sound well. How many avian had come? How close were they?

How far was the Temple? My gaze zoomed to my home. Two hundred feet maybe?

Too far. I’d never make it. But what other choice did I have? I clutched my basket to my chest and sprang into a mad dash, throwing a quick glance over my shoulder. Only one avian had come for me, but he was the worst of the bunch. A male with white skin, black wings, and red hair. I’d dubbed him Trio.

Pain exploded between my shoulder blades, and I knew the brute had thrown a rock at me. I careened to my hands and knees, my lungs emptying in a rush. The herbs tumbled from the basket, and Trio laughed.

The dryads would fume over the lack of seasoning for dinner, but there was no help for it. I wanted to survive. Not bothering to gather my bounty, I scrambled up and sprinted forward at a faster clip, tossing another glance over my shoulder.

Too close. Almost upon me. I pumped my arms, hoping to quicken my step. Thud. Searing pain. I grunted as that pain ricocheted through me, the momentum taking me down once again.

Trio soared past me, landing a few feet away to unveil a slow grin.

Trying not to vomit, I reached for the dagger I’d made from a bundle of knitting needles I’d sourced. “I’m warning you,” I began, and he laughed again. “I will stab you.”

He lifted another stone. A bigger one. “Let’s have some fun, you and I.”

“Did someone mention fun?” A gust of wind blew in, carrying an unfamiliar voice. When it died, a girl who looked to be my age stood between the avian and me.

My pulse raced. Who—or what—was she? A witch? She must be. Like all the magically inclined, she wore wrist cuffs.

She glanced back to wink at me. Wavy brown hair framed a lovely face with flawless brown skin and fathomless brown eyes.

Definitely a witch. An azure glow of power rimmed her irises.

Multiple diamond chokers circled her neck. A thin, golden breastplate etched with swirling symbols safeguarded her torso, sparking envy in me. So beautifully crafted. A thick leather belt looped around her waist with a bejeweled dagger hanging at each side. Underneath a mesh skirt, she sported leather tights and fur-lined boots.

Was she the witch the dryads were expecting?

“My name is Ophelia,” she announced.

Trio backed up several steps. “I know who you are.”

“I highly doubt you do.” She spread her arms, then her fingers, as