The Glass Queen (The Forest of Good and Evil #2) - Gena Showalter Page 0,47

forward. Another down. Another. Another. Movement at my left. I twisted to see a gorgon rushing my way.

I quickly averted my gaze, observing his approach from the corner of my eye. If a gorgon—a “stone child”—held your gaze long enough, he could slip into your mind, gain control of your thoughts and your actions, and turn you into a pillar of rock.

He entered my strike zone, and swung a jagged-edged sword at me. I went low, my own sword lifted, the blade pointing up and pressed against my side. Our blades met with a clink, jarring him to a stop. I had no such pause. I swept out my leg, knocking his ankles together, at the same time I slicked my sword through another male’s ankles, removing both of his feet. The two opponents crashed into the ground. I stabbed one in the heart, then the other, finishing them off.

No time to rest. As I stood, another troll slammed into me. We rolled together, flinging dirt. When we stopped, he was beneath me. I got busy, punching, punching. With a snarl, he jerked up and sank his venomous fangs into my neck—or he tried to.

This morning, I’d decided to wear one of Ashleigh’s defensive pieces, so I’d taken the sketch to Ophelia. In a matter of seconds, the witch had crafted a thin metal collar the same color as my skin. It circled my throat, without restricting my movements. A rush order, she’d said, before charging me an obscene amount of gold. Worth it.

The second troll’s fangs slammed into the collar, they cracked. He roared with pain and bucked me off him. I rammed into another combatant, my back to his chest, and stabbed backward, slicing into his gut. He screamed—until the wolfin he’d been fighting tore out his jugular.

A metallic tang of blood, waste, and urine permeated the air. Ah. The battle stench. Oh, how I had not missed it.

I fought my way back to the troll, who marched toward me as well, tossing combatants out of his way.

“I’m going to suck the marrow from your bones and take your liaison as my concubine.”

He dared to threaten Ashleigh?

Seeing red. I sheathed one of the swords to palm my favorite dagger, a blade with a brass knuckle handle. I slipped my fingers through the loops, keeping the blade flat against my forearm. Then I walked...jogged...sprinted over, closing the distance.

We slammed together, both of us attacking with savage persistence. We slashed, punched, elbowed, clawed, and kicked. His claws were sharper and stronger than metal. At some point, he busted my cheekbone—I shattered his. Still we fought.

“Hurt Ashleigh? Not while I live.” She’s mine. When he blocked my blade, I released the sword’s hilt long enough to rake my claws over his belly. As his intestines spilled out, I caught the hilt, the sword firmly in my grip once again. Swing.

But he healed supernaturally fast, as if by magic, and blocked, then drove me back, managing to cut into my side. I grunted and blocked the next forward thrust, spun to reach his side, and threw an elbow once, twice. His nose broke. His jaw unhinged.

As he staggered back, I sank my dagger into the hollow of his throat. He fell, gasping for breath he couldn’t catch. I followed him down, withdrawing my second sword and crossing the blades over his neck.

“Don’t—” he began.

With a single chopping motion, I removed his head.

A round of wild applause erupted as I stood, several bystanders even shouting my name. To my surprise, I felt no pride for the display of brutality, no satisfaction in a job well done. I just felt uneasy. Had I truly defended Leonora’s newest incarnation, as if we were in love once again?

I threw myself back into the fray, racing forward—mistake! One of the fallen soldiers pushed a dagger into my calf as I passed him. The blade must have been laced with poison. In seconds, searing pain overtook me, an ocean of dizziness rushing in. A loud ring erupted in my ears, muffling every other noise. My eyesight dimmed, the battle seeming like a dream. Then my entire world flipped upside down.

No, I’d just fallen. I remained on the ground, panting as my line of vision darkened the rest of the way.

Can’t see.

Inhale, exhale. Calm. Steady. I had no reason to panic. I’d trained in the light as well as the dark, both drugged and clearheaded. This? This was nothing.

I focused on the detail I could best discern. The