The Glass Queen (The Forest of Good and Evil #2) - Gena Showalter Page 0,43
proud, at least a little, or would I embarrass him?
She gave me a once-over. “You look ready to fine me for an overdue book and take a stroll along Chastity Lane.”
We spoke the same language, and yet her words were foreign to me. Overdue book? I’d never even heard of this Chastity Lane. “Is that a good or bad thing?”
“Darling, it’s a very good thing—for you. Prim and proper is Saxon’s new type.”
New type? “What was his old type?”
“Fiery.” She motioned to the dais. “You’re going to have the best seat in the house. You’ll be next to your new stepsis and your father’s all-you-can-eat smorgasbord of snacks. Best get settled. The battle is about to begin, and I have a feeling Saxon expects your gaze to be riveted on him the entire time.”
She sounded on the verge of laughter. “I knew he expected me to be here.” He’d wanted to punish me for skipping it, but I’d foiled his plans. Head high, shoulders back. This girl was unstoppable.
“I think he wanted you here,” she said, “but I know he didn’t want to want you here.”
I cringed a little. Did she know who Saxon thought I was?
“Yeah, I know who you are,” she said, as if reading my mind. “Don’t worry. I understand how someone’s actions can be misconstrued. So. I’m giving you the same courtesy you’re giving me and observing you before I render a verdict.”
Okay, I’d just made my decision about her—she wasn’t someone to fear.
“When the battle is done, I’ll collect you and return you to his tent.” She gave me a gentle nudge forward. “Have fun. Go wild. May your golden roses find...sunshine?”
“May your roses forever bloom,” I corrected with a grin. I turned to give her a hug, but she’d already strode away.
No matter. I think I’d just made a friend.
My grin remained in place as I glided onto the dais. As I passed the witch and oracle, who ignored me...the king, who looked around me... Dior, who waved again. I wilted and eased onto the child-size throne.
Minutes passed as I waited for some kind of acknowledgment from my father.
Still waiting...
I expelled a heavy breath and took the initiative. “Good morn, Fath—Majesty. Dior.”
He nodded, saying nothing, still enraptured by the combatants. No questions about my overnight stay with Saxon? No inquiries about my time at the Temple, now that we were away from the courtlings? Not even a scolding for daring to attend this event?
Dior burst out, “Good morn, Ashleigh,” as if she couldn’t contain her words a moment longer. “I’m so glad you could come to the tournament. We can finally get to know each other better.”
“Sure,” I said, but I didn’t sound enthused.
As if just realizing I’d arrived, Ophelia swiveled around to meet my gaze. “Ashleigh, Princess of Glass or whatever, I’d like you to meet Noel, the premier oracle of Sevón.” She gestured grandly at the girl beside her.
“I’m, like, your biggest fan,” Noel gushed at me. “I’m president of the club and everything. Honest.”
More gibberish. A club was a weapon and a president was a... I didn’t even know. Following my father’s example, I nodded. What else could I do, really?
The beautiful redhead leaned over the king, uncaring when he issued a disgruntled murmur, and asked me, “Aren’t you so proud of our Saxon for all that butt kicking today?”
Butt kicking? I knew enough about oracle-speak to know she’d just referenced the end result of today’s battle, even though a punch had yet to be thrown. But... “Butt kicking is good?” Clearly I had missed out on some important updates to local vernacular during my time at the Temple.
“Very good indeed,” Noel said with a nod. “If you’re the one doing the kicking, of course. And Saxon is.”
Relief bombarded me.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. Relief? Ridiculous. I wanted Saxon to lose right from the start, thereby ending my liaison duties.
The oracle scratched her head. “Unless I’m mistaken, and Saxon is the one who gets his butt kicked. Yeah, that’s totally possible. Let’s find out together.”
“Our next combatant is,” the master of ceremonies announced, “Milo Ambrose, the royal warlock of both Fleur and Sevón.”
I straightened. So. Milo had decided to fight for Dior’s hand in marriage. That didn’t surprise me.
Dior cheered and clapped. “Have you met our delightful warlock, Ashleigh? He’s so sweet.”
Sweet? “I can’t say my experience with him mirrors yours.”
Her brow wrinkled. “What do you mean? Was he cruel to you?”
A servant approached the thrones, bearing a tray of traditional