The Glass Queen (The Forest of Good and Evil #2) - Gena Showalter Page 0,83

oracle and the witch. If they hurt you, eat them. Just be sure to spit out their bones. Those are a choking hazard.”

Pagan bopped the tip of her nose against my chin, and Pyre licked my cheek. I smothered both of their beautiful faces with kisses before I straightened. I doubled-checked that the daggers I’d fashioned from pieces of broken furniture were still in place. Somehow, I found the strength to walk away from the most precious treasures in all the world.

As I trekked through a palace I hadn’t yet learned to navigate, I passed servants who were cleaning priceless vases and bejeweled furnishings. My ears twitched as they whispered “Glass Princess” and “avian castoff.”

I flushed, my head drooping, but only for a second. I forced my chin to lift. I was Cinder, mother of dragons, future phantom-slayer, and I would never be shamed again.

Candles burned in each room I entered, scenting the air with wax. In every hallway, my father’s likeness adorned every wall, always hanging next to a large, full-length mirror framed in solid gold. After a few missed turns, I reached the throne room, where two guards waited at the closed doors. They must have been expecting me. They opened up in a hurry, allowing me to soar inside without pause.

No crowd awaited me this time, only more guards, my father, and Dior, who once again sat in my mother’s throne. This time, I bore her no ill will. She could only sit where she was told.

I stopped before the dais. Despite my lack of rest, despite the physical exertion, my heartbeat remained steady. With the mystical barrier constantly falling, I had more and more access to Leonora’s magic, which meant I had more access to her power, the ability’s battery. That battery kept me charged up.

Would I sicken when I killed her? Did it matter? If I had to pick between living with her, or ending her reign of terror and possibly dying, I’d go with option B every time.

Hoping to impress, I executed my best curtsy. “Hello, Your Majesty.”

“Ashleigh,” my father said with a nod. He looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot. He’d lost several pounds in a matter of days, his cheeks hollow. His clammy skin had a sallow tint.

Concern inundated me. “Are you all right? Is there anything I can—”

“Do not presume to question me.” His voice lacked its usual authority. “I called you here because Dior is eager to attend today’s battles. You will accompany her to ensure she is properly entertained.”

He’d only wanted an escort for the daughter he adored?

Why couldn’t he bear the slightest affection for me?

Just love me, Father. Please.

“I’ve missed you, Ashleigh.” Dior unveiled her loveliest, brightest smile. “I hope you’ll forgive the unexpected summons, but as the king said, I wish to attend the battles. I know we’ve missed the first and second rounds, but the royal oracle told me you wished to attend as well, and I thought that we could maybe, perhaps, if you’d like, go together and continue getting to know each other. The king isn’t feeling well, so he’s decided to remain here.”

“Dior is quite curious about the avian.” Father coughed, his entire body heaving. “You will tell her all about Prince Saxon, won’t you, Ashleigh?”

I inhaled sharply, then hurried to blank my expression, unsure about what I was feeling. Anger? Hurt? Fear? Had Dior set her heart on Saxon?

Well, she couldn’t have him. He was mine. My fated one, selected by destiny and—I cringed. I sounded just like Leonora.

“Yes, Father,” I finally said. “I will do as you request.”

“She is part of the fairy tale, you know,” he continued, proudly patting her hand. “I am the king who hosts the ball, and she is the cinder girl. If Saxon is the prince, as I’m beginning to suspect, the two belong together.”

A lump clogged my throat. Saxon and Dior...my father, peering at Dior as if she were the answer to his prayers...it was all too much.

“I’m part of ‘The Little Cinder Girl,’ too,” I whispered.

“I haven’t forgotten.” He pursed his lips, giving me a look of distaste. “Let’s hope you aren’t the evil stepsister intent on keeping Cinder and the prince apart.”

15

We might have reached the middle of our tale,

but there are plenty more enemies to fell.

Ashleigh

I rode a purple unicorn down the mountain trail, and Dior rode a pink one. A contingent of armed guards trailed behind us as we chatted.

“I don’t think you’re an evil stepsister, Ashleigh, and I’m so sorry