The Glass Queen (The Forest of Good and Evil #2) - Gena Showalter Page 0,9

snapped in front of my face. “You about to pass out again?”

“No, sorry. Just got lost in thought.” Milo was only a few years older than me, tall and lean, with golden hair, golden eyes and golden skin. Like most magic wielders, he sported metal wrist cuffs. He wore dark leather underneath gold-plated armor that I would love to examine more closely. He resembled a god of war, intimidating and kind of menacing. So, the same as always.

Most girls in the palace melted in his presence, but I’d never been drawn to him. There was something about him... Maybe it was the way he watched people, as if they possessed something that belonged to him, and he would cross any line to get it back.

An elaborate iron key hung from his neck. The same key his father used to wear. I remembered the way my mother used to stare at it, her yearning palpable. When I’d asked her why she liked it, she’d told me, I used to have one just like it, and I wish with all my being that I still did, so that I could give it to you.

My chin quivered, and I gulped. “Has your father’s funeral ended?”

He gave a single, jerky nod.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Milo.” I’d always liked his father. Every year Momma had used secret passages to take me down to the catacombs, where the warlock stayed. At her request, he would mix a foul-smelling liquid that I had to drink while he mumbled something about a “mind barrier.” Afterward, my head had hurt for weeks, but I hadn’t minded because he’d always treated me with kindness. If a mind barrier aided me, for whatever reason, I would happily suffer.

What would happen without the barrier, now that the warlock was gone?

“Don’t be,” Milo said, and shrugged. “He was selfish. He would rather help others than his own son.”

His vehemence startled me. The warlock had not struck me as a selfish man. Wasn’t helping others a good thing?

Milo sat down a few inches away from me, as if we sat so close all the time. Not the least bit awkward at all. Not even a little. “What do you remember about the day your mother and my father died?”

He wished to discuss this now? “Why?”

“Despite our differences, he was my father. I’d like to know how he died, and since you were the only other person in the room...”

A choking sound left me. “I’m sorry, Milo, but I don’t remember anything of significance. My mother took me to your father’s chambers, as usual, and—” I paused. Milo had never been present during the drinking of the potion and the chanting of the spell. He didn’t know about it, and I shouldn’t tell him, my mother’s constant warning drilled into my head. Tell no one, my darling. Your life hangs in the balance.

Why, Momma?

The few times I’d asked, she’d only ever told me, It’s safer if you don’t know.

“Go on,” he insisted.

I licked my lips. “As we passed through the doorway, I fainted. I—I’m not sure how much time I lost before I awoke in...in...a pool of blood.” Her blood. The warlock’s, too. They’d both lain beside me.

Momma’s green gaze had been open, staring at nothing, her expression frozen in terror. A crimson-soaked dagger had protruded from the warlock’s chest, but my sweet mother had possessed wounds all over.

I sniffled. Why hadn’t I been hurt? Why hadn’t I hugged my mother that morning or told her how special she was?

“Did he look like he suffered?” Milo asked casually.

I shifted, uncomfortable. How was I supposed to answer that? The truth? Yes, he appeared to have died in agony.

In the end, Milo smiled, as if he’d gleaned the answer—and liked it. Then he stood and walked a slow circle around me, saying, “I’ve been going through my father’s things, and I’ve read some very interesting things about you, Princess Ashleigh.”

His smugness...

“I know who you truly are,” he announced.

My brow furrowed with confusion. “I don’t understand. Who am I truly?”

He continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “She lives in you, but she is not you and you are not her. Not yet. She is a queen, and you are the servant she possesses...the two separated only by a mystical wall.”

The heat drained from my face. I’d heard my mother use those same words at times. Lives in you...possessed...mystical wall. “What does that mean?”

Milo stopped in front of me, his expression almost reverent. “It means you are