The Glass Queen (The Forest of Good and Evil #2) - Gena Showalter Page 0,16
But I’m saving my magic for the delights to come.”
Delights? What did she mean?
I reached for the carriage’s handle to pull myself up and noticed my red, callused hands, the dirt caked under my nails. I cast my gaze over the horrid state of my clothing, and I wanted to sink into the ground. “I can’t let my father see me like this.”
“You can, and you will.” I thought she mumbled, “Let him see what his neglect has wrought,” but I couldn’t be sure.
With a sigh, I climbed inside the carriage, careful of my eggs. Ophelia entered behind me, and the unicorns launched into motion. Only minutes later, we were entering the infamous Enchantian Forest, where most citizens dared not tread without a magical guide.
I tossed a final glance over my shoulder to bid the Temple goodbye, but the cluster of hollowed-out trees was already gone.
We must have traveled through one of the many invisible doorways common in the area, each one able to whisk unwitting bystanders miles away to another section of the forest in only a blink. Here, a blue and gold light enveloped taller trees, pulsing as if we’d reached the heart of the forest.
Ophelia buffed her nails and asked, “Do you know anything about the new Empress of the Forest? Well, she prefers the title of queen.”
“I’ve heard conflicting reports about her. Some say she’s good, some say she’s evil.” Which was she? Since the state of her heart dictated the state of the forest, the answer kind of mattered. “Have you gotten to meet her?”
The witch fluffed her hair. “I don’t want to brag, but we’re very mediocre friends. You would love her. You have so much in common.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re both evil.”
“I’m not evil,” I burst out. And oh, wow, every divot and rock bounced me atop the cushionless bench, bruising my already bruised backside.
“My mistake. I’d thought I’d heard rumors...”
I humphed. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”
As we bumped along, I stopped trying to make conversation with the witch and let my mind venture to my homecoming. How would my father welcome me? If I received just one smile...
Did Milo work at the palace? Did he still have his father’s journals? I’d replayed our final interaction anytime I’d learned something new about Leonora. While I remained certain Milo was wrong and I wasn’t somehow a centuries-old witch, I sometimes...occasionally...possibly...entertained the barest hint of doubt. I still felt as if I had hidden magic. So, I’d studied at every opportunity, and cobbled together a patchwork history for the fire witch.
Leonora was the daughter of a warlock king and a witch queen. Her entire coven had been eager to discover the powerful magic she would wield. But, at the age of sixteen, she’d failed to manifest an ability. Then, inexplicably, at the age of twenty-one, everything had changed.
I massaged the back of my neck. This was where things got a bit too coincidental for my liking. She’d begun to create and manipulate fire.
Soon after, she’d met the first avian king, Craven the Destroyer. He’d stormed through Enchantia, enslaving different species and overtaking multiple kingdoms, Leonora’s among them. A handful of accounts claimed he’d spied her, desired her, and abducted her, then kept her locked away in the Avian Mountains. One account said she’d gone with him willingly. I leaned toward the first because she’d mounted a successful escape about a year later, causing the eruption of their war.
Centuries after that, one of Craven’s great grandchildren was said to have resumed the war with one of Leonora’s great grandchildren, with the same results. The avian and his people destroyed, the witch the victor.
But how had Milo known what Leonora desired most? What had his father written about us, and how could I get hold of his notes?
“Whatever you’re overthinking, stop.” Ophelia patted my knee. “All thoughts create energy. Certain thoughts create a lot of energy. My fuel. I feed on it. But if you keep this up, I’m going to spontaneously combust.”
An exaggeration, surely. “Have you heard of a woman named Leonora the Burner of Worlds? She was a witch, like you, only she came from ancient times.”
“Sorry, but I’m one of a kind. I’m an apple baby.”
Um, that was impossible. Wasn’t it? “There were once three Trees of New Beginnings. Now there are none.” They’d been destroyed. A fact the dryads lamented often.
Once, women who desired a baby could eat an apple from a Tree of New Beginnings and conceive or birth a child within