The Glass Queen (The Forest of Good and Evil #2) - Gena Showalter Page 0,38

well, I’d begun selecting my hosts based on my needs and their current circumstances, jumping from one to the other every few months without their knowledge. They’d lost a small bit of time, and I’d gained a wealth of experiences.

For the first time, I’d gotten to enjoy the things other people took for granted. Physical sensation. Eating delicious meals. Getting married. Having sex. Being seen, heard, and adored. I’d perused books to learn about myself and soon discovered I was a phantom created by dragon fire and death.

Today, I hoped to receive a new experience—ending a life. Craven himself. I’d never met him, but he’d killed members of my new coven and threatened my new family. For that, he would die screaming, and all of Enchantia would thank me.

Earlier, I’d overheard servants whispering about this mighty avian king, how he was just as likely to slay a friend as an enemy and that, if you told him a lie, he would cut out your tongue. If you stole from him, he would chop off your hands. If you ran from him, he would remove your feet with a rusty ax.

This male now had a big problem with my new parents.

As the number of witches and warlocks in our coven had grown, the clearing in which we lived had quickly become cramped. Not knowing what else to do, Great Lord Titus—the equivalent of a mortal king—issued an order to spread into Craven’s territory. Just a little. The teeniest bit. Hardly noticeable.

Craven had taken great offense and launched a campaign to show the warlock sovereign the error of his ways. Yesterday, Titus had surrendered, his magic no match for the terror of the skies.

In a matter of minutes, Craven would arrive to demand an apology and a pledge of fealty from each of us.

I would not be giving either one.

I tightened my grip on the dagger I would be shoving into his rotted heart. Soon he would learn. I could have made him an incredible ally. Instead, he’d made me a fearsome enemy.

“Whatever he wants, Leonora, give it to him. Please.” Titus stood at my right and patted my free hand. He trembled. “Otherwise he’ll murder us all.”

Both the Great Lord, the father I’d claimed, and the Coveness Hexelle, the mother I’d always craved, had donned their most luxurious finery. She stunned in a black crystal headdress that boasted a brim and a tall, pointed top, paired with a fitted black gown. Titus wore a black cloak made from the hide of a panther, and an ankle-length black tunic, cinched at the waist with a leather belt.

I’d selected a gown with bloodred roses sewn throughout.

We stood in the foyer of our home—the biggest hut in the village—awaiting King Craven’s arrival. “Obey the dictates of a tyrant?” I shook my head. “No.” I wouldn’t allow him to take the only home and family I’d ever known.

Titus heaved a forlorn sigh, acting as if I’d doomed us all. I’d inhabited his daughter for several months, but he still lamented my new “sass.”

Suddenly he stiffened and whisper-yelled, “He’s here.”

“How—” My ears twitched, the whooshing sound of wings registering. Ah. Next came thundering footsteps.

Squeaking hinges sounded, the door to the hut swinging open. Then he was there. Craven the Destroyer strode into the abode as if he owned it, two armed men at his sides. I knew it was him without being told. No male had ever exuded such fierce intensity.

He wasn’t traditionally handsome, I noted. He was even better, his features bold and arresting. And the rest of him... Hello. He was tall and packed with lean muscle. He had dark hair and skin, darker eyes, and soft lips. Stubble covered a strong jaw. His wings were large and cobalt.

My heart raced with—what was that? I’d never felt anything quite so powerful. It almost left like a sense of connection had bloomed. As if I belonged with him.

As if he were mine. Meant for me, and me alone.

I floundered. I marveled. It was wondrous.

He glanced in my direction, only to look away. Just as I curled my hands into fists, he jerked his gaze back to me. “You,” he breathed, angling toward me. He prowled closer.

“Me?” I asked, panting all of a sudden. He smelled like a rainstorm. “You know me?” As some part of me seems to know you?

“I...do not. But I’ve dreamed of you.” He said no more, leaving me confused.

“What kind of dreams?” I asked.

One corner of his mouth rose. “The best