The Evil Queen (The Forest of Good and Evil) Read online

  I watched, dying inside, as Nicolas stuffed her and Thor into his truck. Icy rain misted over my skin, freezing the blood in my veins.

  He climbed behind the wheel. Seconds later, the truck sped away, its tires burning rubber. The heart-lava spread to the rest of me, turning my organs to ash.

  Mom had known about sorcerers, and she’d kicked Nicolas to the curb. I knew nothing about sorcerers, yet I’d just allowed the top dog to cart my sister, my reason for breathing, away. Dang, dang, dang. Had I made a terrible mistake?

  Eyes blurring, I shut the door. An eerie silence crept through the house, making my heartbeat seem thunderous.

  I swallowed a sob. Breaking down still wasn’t an option. Too much to do, too little time. So, I gathered my emotional pain—the anguish, regret and sadness, all the mental poison—stuffed it deep inside my heart, then built a wall around it.

  A strange, wonderful numbness settled over me, and I laughed without humor. I was now the human equivalent of Schrödinger’s cat: both alive and dead.

  Well, no matter. There was work to do. I jutted my chin, rolled my shoulders, and I stalked into the guest bathroom, with its papered walls, stainless steel sink atop a barrel converted into a vanity, and large mirror with a gilt frame.

  My eyes were bloodshot, swollen and glazed with grief. Guess I hadn’t gotten rid of all my emotional pain. My pale cheeks had hollowed, like Hartly’s, and bite marks littered my lips.

  “Hartly is gone, so I can’t syphon from her,” I told my reflection. If I even needed to syphon. Which I didn’t. Heck, I’d do this Evil Queen style and prove it. Two birds, one stone.

  Waving a hand, I said, “Mirror, mirror, on the wall. Who is the fairest—” Ugh. No. Why waste magic with such a stupid request, even when attempting an experiment? “Scratch that. Talk to me. Tell me all.”

  The ends of my fingers burned white-hot, while flames flickered inside my chest, an inferno quickly spreading. I hissed.

  When ripples appeared in the glass, I almost cheered.

  See, Nicolas? I had my own supply of power. I was about to have another vision, and I hadn’t needed anyone’s help.

  Except, he’d already acknowledged this possibility, hadn’t he? I could have charged my battery, storing power I’d stolen. But I’d never wielded a second ability; and, if I had syphoned from my mother, I would have access to her illusion magic. Right?

  What if I’d never needed to syphon, but I’d done it anyway, either unconsciously or instinctively, to keep my personal battery charged?

  As grief tried to fight its way free of its cage, I forced my mind to blank with brutal precision. Perfect timing. An image appeared in the glass, the weird version of me. My greedy gaze drank her in. She had changed, the hair framing her face now a stunning jet-black. The rest of the strands remained white, with bloodred rose petals twined throughout. Thicker slashes of kohl outlined her eyelids, more dramatic than ever before. She wore a corset top bedazzled with diamonds, the center V deep enough to showcase her navel tattoo—an apple.

  I didn’t have a navel tattoo. Or any tattoo, for that matter.

  The corners of her crimson lips lifted in a slow smile. “Are you sure you don’t want to know the fairest of them all? Spoiler alert. It’s me!”

  I swallowed a groan. “You only care about outer beauty?”

  “Who said anything about outward appearance?”

  What had she meant, then?

  Doesn’t matter. I won’t get hung up on unimportant details this time. “Who are you?”

  “That should be obvious. I’m you. The best of you.” She fluffed her hair, bracelets clinking; metal links branched from one of those bracelets, stretching over the back of her hand, along each finger and ending in detachable claws, forming a lethal yet delicate gauntlet. “If you want me to get technical—”

  “I do.”

  “I’m an eternal extension of your magical sixth sense. I am a new beginning, and my roots run deep. I am a tree in a forest of thousands. I see and hear what others do not.”

  Translation: gibberish, gibberish, gibberish.

  Overwhelmed, I focused on one point at a time. “Eternal extension, huh? I guess that makes you—”

  “Foreverly,” we said in unison.

  I scowled. She grinned.

  “What is Hartly’s role in ‘Snow White and the Evil Queen’?” I asked. First things first.

  “I don’t know. Some things, even I cannot see. The ebb and flow of free will causes certain things to blur.”

  So...we weren’t bound by the dictates of the prophecy, as Mom had believed? Our fate wasn’t already decided? Our choices would dictate which character we played?

  The double meaning of character struck me as important, but my mind was a mess, intelligence currently beyond me. “Am I dangerous to Hartly?”

  She tilted her head to the side, her gaze far away. “You want to know if you will kill her. The answer is simple. You will, and you will not.”

  Ugh. “Don’t you dare Schrödinger’s cat me. Will I or won’t I harm her? Am I a sorceress?” Wait. I should probably rephrase for accuracy. “Am I the sorcerian overlord? Is Hartly safe with Nicolas?”

  “You won’t,” she said, and relief nearly felled me. Then she added, “And you will. You are a sorceress...and you are not a sorceress. Do you want to be the overlord? Nicolas is...Nicolas.”

  “I want straight answers.”

  “Exactly what I’ve offered, yet I haven’t heard a single thank you.”

  Why had I ever enjoyed puzzles? Stomach filling with acid, I grated, “Did I drain my mother to death? Did I make Hartly sick?” Again, grief tried to fight free of its cage. I had to reinforce the brick wall—with another brick wall.

  Foreverly tilted her head, her study of me intensifying. “Will you believe me one way or the other?”

  “I...won’t.” I didn’t know her, not really, no matter who she claimed to be, or how much she looked like me. “I guess our conversation is futile, then.” Not just futile, but a waste of power and magic.

  How much fuel did my battery possess anyway? And how had I stored power when I didn’t freaking know how to store power? Instinctively? Now my stomach churned, as if trying to turn the acid into butter. Did I wield my power—or Mom’s?

  Voice low and raspy, Foreverly said, “You’re right. Why tell you when I can show you? Come. Visit Enchantia ahead of schedule. Learn about yourself and do recon on Nicolas.”

  I... She... Yes! I needed to learn more about the man who’d said I could trust no one else. The man my mother had kicked out of our house. “How can I travel without a witch?” Didn’t I need Ophelia to shift the curtain or whatever?

  “You are rooted in Enchantia. Unlike others, you may return anytime you desire.” She stepped closer and reached out...out...her hand slipped past the mirror. Or the doorway. Portal? Considering the things I’d smelled... “Come, my darkling. See. Learn.”

  I reared back, my whole world suddenly knocked off its axis. But awe soon overtook me, and I returned to my post. Fear of the unknown would not dictate my reaction.

  Think this through. My reflection could be tangible and intangible, real and not real. If I accepted her hand, I could travel to Enchantia, as promised, or end up in some sort of hell.

  “Come,” she repeated. “You know you want to.”

  What I knew beyond a doubt? Everything and nothing. But... I shouldn’t do this. I’d done zero planning or prep. For all I knew, she was the Evil Queen, I was Snow White and this was how she first tricked me.

  “Greatness awaits you,” she said, pure temptation. “Research Nicolas. Meet Queen Violet and Princess Truly. Meet Prince Roth.” She wiggled her brows. “Tour Airaria. Taste the full force of your magic. Or spend the next three days agonizing about what is truth and what is lie. Lady’s choice.”

  Lives we
re at stake. Caution mattered. I shook my head, locks of hair slapping my cheeks.

  “Very well.” With a pout, she withdrew her hand. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me. Or simply walk through a full-length mirror. Your heart will find its way home.”

  * * *

  Instead of crafting a well-thought-out plan, I paced in the living room, trying to elude my frustration. A whirlwind of what could have and should have been battered my mind.

  Eventually I made my way to the bathroom, where I showered and washed my hair. After a quick blow-dry, I plaited the top half into an elaborate braid-crown, because why not, and left the bottom half loose. Just like Foreverly.

  Hoping for a better outcome, I began to pace all over again...and encountered another whirlwind.

  Okay, I needed to tackle this a different way. Over the summer, I’d completed multiple risk/reward assessments for an econ class. What better time to put those skills to use?

  The issue: What would happen if I journeyed to Enchantia without my stepdad and Hartly?

  The rewards: possibly gain answers about Nicolas. Meet Truly, Violet and Farrah. Fine, and Roth! Learn more about magic. Use magic. Have an adventure. Take my rightful place as a princess of a mystical kingdom sooner rather than later. A new and better distraction from my pain.

  The risks: this whole thing could be a trick. Possible run-ins with mythological monsters. The fish out of water experience, being unprepared and helpless. Getting lost or trapped. Not finding my people. Accidentally syphoning from others, or worse. Unknown hazards.

  How hazardous could a world...realm...whatever really be, with a name like Enchantia?

  More risks: I was (and was not) a sorceress, part of the sorcerian. Would all Enchantians despise me, the way Mom had despised Nicolas?

  I snorted. So what if they did? Everyone hated me on sight here, too. Besides, Mom hadn’t known about Nicolas until she’d been told. No one would know who or what I was.

  Could I trust Foreverly? Should I trust Foreverly? Could I afford to miss an opportunity to learn about myself and my world without Nicolas’s interference?

  A girl on a mission, I ransacked Mom’s closet for anything remotely Enchantian. In back, I discovered a box labeled My Old Life. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

  Trembling, I lifted the lid. A cloud of dust plumed around me, and I coughed. Inside, I found clothes and a pair of leather wrist cuffs. Each cuff had a tiny metal hook; one pull uncoiled a long length of garrote wire.

  Aubrey Morrow...badass?

  Ignore the pang. Among the garments, I discovered a finely made corset and petticoat, a royal blue cloak with pockets, and a matching royal blue dress with detachable sleeves, delicate golden threads, crystals and pearls sewn throughout. I’d never handled anything so soft. I bet Mom had stunned in the outfit.

  She isn’t your mother, but your aunt.

  Pang. I added another layer of brick around my heart and gave the structure a mental kick. Holding steady. Excellent.

  At the bottom of the box, I found a jagged meteorite, a pair of bejeweled daggers and a signet ring with diamonds and sapphires arranged in a starburst pattern. So beautiful.

  How had she saved these items from the thief? Or had she collected them from other displaced Enchantians throughout the years?

  Enchantians... I needed to speak with other Enchantians.

  To learn more about sorcerers in general, and Nicolas in particular, I had to journey to Enchantia. If I strengthened, magically speaking, even better. I could search for a way to protect myself and Hartly from any threat.

  Decided, I marched around the house, cramming supplies into a backpack. Items I might not be able to find elsewhere. Multiple compacts. A toothbrush and toothpaste. A box of tampons. A bottle of painkillers. A canteen of water, complete with a filter cap. Canned vegan soups with easy pop-tops. Energy bars. A thin fleece blanket. Clothes—white T-shirts, faux-leather pants, socks, a couple of bra and panty sets. Lastly, I sealed a copy of “Little Snow White” inside a plastic bag, along with an ink pen for note taking, matches and another compact, then stuffed the treasures in the cloak’s pockets.

  Though I planned to return before Ophelia’s arrival, I wrote a note for Hartly, just in case I failed. I let her know I’d discovered another way into Enchantia, that I had questions about Nicolas and myself.

  I ended with How do you know I’m missing you? Because we aren’t together.

  Do. Not. Cry. I donned Mom’s gown, the top too loose, the bottom too short. Oh, well. Better to blend in with the proper fabrics and styles than stand out in my jeans. For all I knew, mortals...kind of mortals, whatever...were burned at the stake.

  A light floral scent drifted from the garments. Mom’s scent. I stilled, closed my burning eyes and breathed deeply, savoring. For a moment, I thought I felt her arms wrap around me.

  As much as I wanted to stay right here and bask, fanciful musings were a waste of time. I hurried on to my next tasks, donning combat boots, then tying two pairs of laces together and threading the loops. If one pair broke, I could use the other.

  Next, I stuffed the meteorite in my pocket, hung Mom’s ring from a necklace, and secured her cuffs around my wrists. The daggers I anchored to a belt of braided gold thread. With nothing left to do, I settled the backpack in place and hid everything under the cloak.

  Showtime.

  Adrenaline drove me forward, giving my feet wings. Keeping my head down, I approached the full-length mirror in Mom’s walk-in closet and wondered where returning to a fairy tale world fit within “Little Snow White.” The time SW ran from the Evil Queen, perhaps?

  Not that I believed I was SW or anything. I still thought Hartly had a better shot. And what about Truly?

  Were our roles already decided? Or did our choices shape us, as Noel and Ophelia had hinted?

  Problem: EQ and SW despised each other. If I was fated to be EQ—even though I wasn’t—neither Hartly nor Truly qualified as SW. EQ ordered SW’s murder, and I would never, ever purposely harm my sisters.

  Enough stalling. I could stand here all day, asking countless questions, or I could hunt for the answers.

  My knees quaked, but I did it. I flipped up my gaze, a little disappointed to greet a normal reflection. Though grief stricken and shell shocked, I possessed a glow of excitement.

  “Foreverly,” I rasped with a wave of my hand. “I’m ready to go to Enchantia.”

  8

  A welcome home, the stuff of dreams.

  Of course, nothing is ever as it seems.

  Warmth pooled in my fingertips, then sped through the rest of me, effervescent and wondrous. Familiar. The mirror seemed to melt before my eyes, becoming a Stargate-like portal.

  Tremors consumed me, my mind spinning. Standing there, wearing my fancy dress, my veins alive with magic, destiny waiting on the other side of the glass, I was following Mom’s example, leaving everything I’d ever known in order to keep my loved one safe.

  Pride blended with sadness, washing through me. An odd combination, but these were odd circumstances. The end of an era, and the beginning of a new life.

  “Down the rabbit hole we go,” I muttered. My knees quaked more forcefully as I stepped forward, entering the cascade of melted glass. A cocoon of heat enfolded me, just before my world blackened. My ears twitched, a cacophony of noise erupting. Glugging liquid. Various volumes of static. Bumblebee-like buzzing.

  Something cold and heavy seemed to snap around my ankles, yanking me down, down into a deeper, darker abyss. Too dark! Can’t see. I flailed, panicked, no end in sight.

  Suddenly, a cornucopia of white lights exploded in every direction, chasing away the darkness. Too bright!

  Can’t take much more.

  In an instant, the sensation of falling ceased. Not that it mattered. I was left feeling like I flew, ran and stood a
ll at once. The glugging dwindled, and the cocoon of heat evaporated. The lights dimmed. My head swam. I was dazed and possibly drunk, even though I hadn’t consumed a drop of alcohol.

  A new kaleidoscope of sounds erupted—shuffling footsteps, murmuring voices, whistling winds and flapping material. The temperature dropped, chilling me to the bone. Wind kicked up, every blast hitting me like a thousand needles pricks.

  The darkness remained. I blinked, rubbed my eyes, but still couldn’t see. Deep breath in, out. I caught the scent of jasmine. In, out. Calm settled over me, a murky film seeming to peel away from my eyes.

  I gaped as a whole new world took shape. Above me, two full moons shone bright and golden. The eyes of the sky, windows to its soul. Shimmering emerald and amethyst mist coiled around a cluster of stars.

  I’d done it? I’d reached Enchantia?

  Everly Morrow for the win!

  A comet blazed past, a trail of fire in its wake. Laughing, I reached up. Sparkles rained down, shockingly cool.

  Before me stretched an endless sea of white sand. People wearing headscarves, loose-fitting tunics and long, sleeveless robes slugged across the dunes, sifting through the grains to find...what were those things? Blue pearls?

  I bent down to sink my fingers into the sand. Oh, how interesting. The grains were dry, but soft as silk. I plucked the first stone I came across. Not a blue pearl, after all, but an iridescent meteorite an inch or so bigger than Mom’s.

  My heart must have steered me to Airaria: Why not directly in front of Queen Violet?

  As I straightened, I added the meteorite to the goodies in my pockets. The fragments must be valuable; people scrambled about to gather them. People who’d stopped what they were doing to stare at me.

  Not knowing what else to do, I waved. “Hello.”

  Sensing movement behind me, I spun—

  And came face-to-face with my reflection. Silver eyed and rosy cheeked, brimming with more excitement, more grief.

  The mirror fell to the side, revealing the girl who’d held it, and I huffed with surprise.