The Glass Queen (The Forest of Good and Evil #2) - Gena Showalter Page 0,56

bothering with boots, I stalked past the screen, only to draw up short.

Ashleigh completely and utterly stole my breath.

She stood in the center of the tent, her dark hair brushed to a glossy shine. Her wide green eyes glittered like emeralds, and a rosy glow highlighted her cheeks. The gown was a true stunner—a thought-dimmer. Silk the same color as her irises molded to soft breasts and cinched waist. The skirt flared at the hips and hung to her toes, dancing over the dirt as she shifted from one foot to the other.

“Well?” she asked, twirling.

“You are...you look...” I had no words. Had I ever beheld a more ravishing sight? Or a weaker one? Never had her fragility been more apparent. I wanted to feed her. I needed to feed her. And kiss her. Stiffening further, I said, “Satisfactory.”

She blink-blinked, her countenance falling. “Satisfactory?” she asked, her tone nothing but a rasp, and my chest tightened. A physical reaction I was beginning to despise. Every time it happened, those awful protective instincts sparked, the urge to comfort the girl nearly irresistible.

I almost—almost—muttered a retraction. But why admit the truth? What good would it do either of us?

“Well,” she said, lifting her chin, “you look...clean.”

The corners of my mouth curved ever so slightly. Minx. “I doubt the vegecake you inhaled satiated your hunger, Asha.” Asha again? “You will dine with me.”

I stomped to the table, where I held out a chair for her, then claimed the backless one for myself.

Both vegecakes were gone. The cheese had been plucked from the toothpaste bread. She’d spread the new food over the table’s surface and removed the lids. Steam rose from the dishes.

Now she scooped a little of everything onto a plate. Lemon-marinated fish. Honey-glazed carrots. Creamed potatoes. Then she scooped a little more. She nibbled on her bottom lip, stared at the dishes, and scooped a little more.

I let her do it, saying nothing, simply stroking two fingers over my chin, once again trying not to smile. “Take as much as you desire.”

“I will, thank you. I haven’t had fish in forever,” she said. “My father’s marriage to an Azulian princess comes with some perks, I guess.”

I was in no mood to discuss her father. “You seem to be on good terms with Eve.”

She handled the subject change without missing a beat. “I like her. She’s kind. The first friend I’ve had in...ever.”

Kind? Everly? That wasn’t a word many used for the sharp-tongued sorceress. Of course, people like Ashleigh tended to search for the good in everyone, or some nonsense.

Softening... How long till Leonora destroyed that part of her?

I stiffened and dropped my gaze to the food. “What did—do—you hope to do with your life?” Maybe, if I learned more about my greatest enemy’s new incarnation, my reactions to her would lessen.

“I’m not sure exactly. I need to speak with my father—”

“I didn’t ask what the king will try to make you do.” Men who attempted to control Leonora tended to die screaming. “I asked what you hope to do with your life. You, Princess Ashleigh.” Would her desires align with the witch’s?

“Oh. Right.” She cleared her throat. “I’d like to train with a blacksmith to design, make, and sell my weapons.”

She planned to craft the weapons herself? “That is grueling work.” I knew it firsthand. Craven used to make weapons, too. “Are you strong enough?”

A flinch. Then she jutted her chin at me, the same way I’d done to my competitors earlier. “Weapons are my passion, Saxon. Why trust their construction to anyone else? And I don’t care if the work is grueling. I’m stronger than I look. I’ll persevere.”

How confident she sounded. But was it genuine? “To whom will you sell these creations?”

“To those I deem worthy, who can afford my high quality, expertly made pieces. And don’t try to shame me for expecting my due for my work. I’ll deserve every coin.”

“I would never shame a craftsman for demanding what their creations are worth. No one wants to labor without recompense.” Even I expected rewards for doing my duty as king.

Ashleigh’s emerald eyes grew stark, and I wanted to know why.

I couldn’t ask. I had no right to the answer. I could guess it, though. She didn’t think people would ever take her seriously.

“What about you?” she whispered. “What’s your passion?”

I knew better than to present my secrets to an enemy already boxed and bowed, especially this enemy. But the truth slipped out, anyway. “My only passion is working to