The Glass Queen (The Forest of Good and Evil #2) - Gena Showalter Page 0,65

wouldn’t say it. If she wasn’t ready to face her father’s disdain, I wasn’t going to be the one to hurt her with the truth.

“Maybe all of that is true. Maybe it isn’t.” Ashleigh cupped and squeezed my shoulders, as if she wanted to be sure I was steady enough to absorb the weight of her next words. “The past is the past, yesterday done and gone. My present actions direct my future. If I fight for my happiness, I’ll have it. Eventually.”

“I’m sorry, Asha, but that just isn’t true. In any war, there is always a winner and a loser, even though both sides fight their hardest.”

“You’re right,” she agreed, surprising me. “But, Saxon, if we asked the losing side whether or not they regretted giving their all—giving their lives, if necessary—for what they wanted, they would not. How could they?”

She...wasn’t wrong. But I wasn’t ready to concede. “You ascribe to a fairy-tale prophecy, certain it’s a map or key to the happiness you’re fighting for, yes?” When she nodded, I said, “But how can that be when so many details are left to individual interpretation, able to mean whatever anyone desires? I assure you, I can insert myself into any fairy tale and justify my role.” Roth and Everly had qualified for multiple characters in their own fairy tale, “Snow White and the Evil Queen.” They’d even believed me to be one of the Seven Protectors.

“Prove it, then.” Ashleigh peered at me, luscious waves of dark hair shimmering around her lovely face. “Convince me you play a role I know you do not. Convince me you’re...Cinder.” There was an aha in her voice.

I relished the challenge. “I am Cinder because... I was just a child when my parents exiled me from the only home I’d ever known. I moved in with Roth and Farrah, and their family essentially became my stepfamily. For years, I worked as Farrah’s guard, and I fought to protect her. But one day, she decided to curse me, ensuring I slayed an innocent girl on her behalf. The act of an evil stepsister.” I meant to deliver my speech without emotion, but anger, frustration, and sorrow laced each word. “I’m strong. I’m fast, and I will not bend. I’d rather break. In three lifetimes, the marriage-minded princess has had eyes only for me. Three, the very number of balls thrown by the handsome prince.”

“That is...you...” She gave her head a hard shake. “No. I’m Cinder. I’ve only known it an hour or so but I know it with every fiber of my being, and you can’t change my mind. So go again. Prove you’re, I don’t know, Cinder’s father.”

Such faith in the tales, with no concrete evidence of their validity. I didn’t think I’d ever believed in something I couldn’t see, feel, taste, or touch. Not as Saxon, anyway. Craven had believed in the power of love...until Leonora taught him better. Would Ashleigh’s certainty crumble in the face of adversity, too?

“In two other lifetimes,” I said, “I made a home with Leonora. After we separated, I made a family with someone else. I was a father. Leonora killed my wife and the children.”

“Oh, Saxon.” Ashleigh moved her grip to cup my cheeks, ghosting her thumbs over my cheekbones. “I’m so sorry.”

A gesture of comfort. From her. The girl I’d purposely hurt. Something cracked in me, just a little bit, but I didn’t think it could be patched. A defense, maybe, soon to collapse. The past beginning to separate from the present. Whatever it was, I sensed this break would bring serious consequences sooner or later.

“Craven and Tyron didn’t love their wives,” I said. “They married only to continue the royal line. But they made families with those women and losing them...it was unimaginable.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, as if overwhelmed by her own emotions, and rested her forehead on my chest. “Why did you have to have a kinder side?” she moaned.

Crack. “This is me being kind?”

“Listen,” she said, and lifted her head. “This is horrible timing, but I have to tell you now, before something bad happens. It’s just, I like her, okay?” She dropped her hands to my collar and plucked at my tunic. “Maybe. Probably. Yes, I’m pretty sure I do, in fact, like her, and I was so certain I didn’t like you, I mean, you abandoned me in the tent and stole my eggs, but here you are, dancing with me, and sharing meaningful parts of your