The Glass Queen (The Forest of Good and Evil #2) - Gena Showalter Page 0,3
giving her head time to clear. But all the while, her breasts leaked, wetting her nightgown, and a warm trickle of liquid ran down her legs. Blood? She didn’t care. Hurry. No telling when Philipp would return.
With no money of her own, Charlotte had to find a witch as desperate as she was, someone willing to accept little in exchange for a great infusion of power. And she knew just where to look...
Using a hidden passageway she’d discovered when Philipp snuck out of their room one night, Charlotte made her way down, down, down. The farther she went, the colder the air became. By the time she reached the royal dungeon, she was shivering and her teeth were chattering, goose bumps rising on her limbs.
What a horrid place. Crumbling walls lit by the occasional torch. Webs in every corner, insects unable to escape. The pitter-patter of rats accompanied a constant drip of water. This was where Philipp liked to lock away anyone who had wronged him. How many times had he bragged about the powerful witch he’d defeated in battle years ago?
What had the witch done wrong? Think, think. Murder? Theft? Had she merely insulted the king’s unending pride, like so many others? Though Charlotte racked her brain, the answer remained at bay. Did the woman’s crime really matter? If the witch agreed to share her magic with Ashleigh, Charlotte would agree to set her free, regardless of her past actions. A promise she had the means to ensure.
As a child, her father the king had beaten his two sons for any wrongdoing. Charlotte, however, he’d locked in small, dark spaces, a nightmare come to life. One day, her mother had secretly bought her a magic key able to open any lock. A key she still carried around her neck, just in case.
Charlotte readjusted Ashleigh to carefully cover her face with the wolf’s fur. Nerves on edge, she shuffled along a wide corridor. The scent of mold, waste, and decay hit faintly at first but soon grew overpowering, creating a fetid stench that stung her nostrils and watered her eyes. Down here, there was no hint of the bright sunshine and sweet perfume of rose that permeated the rest of the kingdom.
A strange clack, clack, clack registered. A chorus of pained moans followed, becoming louder and louder only to quiet when she turned a corner and came upon the occupied cells. Haggard, emaciated prisoners hobbled to the bars.
Pleas rang out next.
“Help me.”
“Please, ma’am. Please.”
“Spare a drop of water.”
Though her heart squeezed, she kept her gaze straight ahead. There, at the end of the corridor, loomed a wall of bars and a witch who looked exactly as Philipp had described her every time he’d recounted the tale of their war.
Even with matted blond hair and dirt-smeared skin, even with a tattered rag that hung on her too-slender frame, the witch with ice-blue eyes possessed an undeniable beauty and grace.
For some reason, Philipp and his guards hadn’t removed her only piece of jewelry before locking her away. A metal ring with a rose etched in the center.
“Well, well, well,” the witch said. “Could it be the high-and-mighty Queen Charlotte in her expensive nightgown? Bards sing tales of your great beauty. The dark-haired enchantress soon to give birth. Well, who has just given birth, it appears. Are you here to honor your husband’s prisoners with your exalted presence? To introduce us to the new princess, perhaps?”
Charlotte stopped a few feet away and exhaled. Mist wafted in her face. “I am Queen Charlotte, yes. What’s your name?”
The witch blinked, as if surprised and a little miffed by her ignorance. “Most know me as Melvina, but I prefer Leonora.”
Why would she wish to be called Leonora, a name associated with one of the oldest and most notorious cautionary tales in all of Enchantia? “What crime did you commit against my husband?” Not having grown up in Fleur, Charlotte wasn’t very familiar with the local legends and histories. At least she sensed no hint of evil from the witch.
“You mean your husband needs a reason to incarcerate innocent people?” Leonora replied airily.
No. No, he didn’t. This witch could be a good person who’d met a bad end.
Or a bad person with a just end.
Did Charlotte’s plan have risks? Yes. Many. Would those risks deter her? No. “If you grant my daughter a magical ability, I will give you what you—”
“Let me guess,” Leonora interjected with a wry tone. “You’ll set me free.”