The Glass Queen Page 22

  “Tell you one what?”

  When she said nothing more, I sighed, crouched down and opened my arms for Pagan and Pyre. As the babies nuzzled against me, I told them, “Mommy needs to leave for a little while. Stay here with the 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 that was said. And I don’t think I’m Cinder, if I’m being honest. Or, I didn’t. The royal oracle keeps asking me if my slippers are made for walking. Aren’t all slippers made for walking, though? It seems like she’s hinting that I’ll be the one to wear the glass slippers, but I’m not sure. What do you think?”

  “Well, I know you’re not the evil stepsister, either.” Should I tell her that I, too, believed myself to be Cinder?

  “Oh! Did I tell you about my little sister, Marabella?” she asked, jumping to a new subject, the other already forgotten. “Well, our little sister now. She isn’t part of our prophecy, but she’s pretty special. And sad. I love our mother, and she loves us, but she expects us both to be perfect every minute of every day. We’re to make no mistakes, never act improper, and guard our every word and action. We do it all knowing we’ll be used as pawns one day. That we won’t be allowed to marry for love. Not me, especially, the girl who has a magical ability to turn anything into gold. I must wed whoever is chosen for me. Well, whoever wins this tournament, I mean. Anything to strengthen the king’s rule. He wants the strongest warrior in the land guarding me, after all. Someone who won’t take me away to another kingdom, so we can remain a happy family.” The words left her as if she were reciting something she’d heard repeated again and again. “The good of the kingdom matters more than one life.”

  Had she said these things the day we’d met, I might have laughed in her face. I would do anything to have my mother here, demanding I act perfectly. And I would do anything to acquire a magical ability like Princess Dior’s. Turn something into gold to pay for the things I needed? Yes, please. But, she had problems and pains and obstacles of her own. She was being used as a pawn. Pawns never received a happily-ever-after.

  “How does your ability work?” I asked. I had yet to see her turn anything into gold. “Do you control it?”

  “Not at first.” She ducked her head. “That’s how my father died. I accidentally turned his entire body into gold.” Agony laced her voice, and I sympathized. We’d both harmed a parent in irreparable ways. “With practice, I learned how to switch the ability on and off. But I only have enough power to make a certain amount of gold each day, and the king has ensured I always reach that limit by nightfall. That’s why I only tried to visit your room eight times these past few days. I was too tired to visit the other three hundred and seventy-two times I considered it.”

  Eight. As in...eight? “I’m so sorry about your father. I know a loss like that remains a part of you. I’m also sorry for my rudeness. I must not have heard you knock.” The spell around the room only stopped noises from leaving, so, the dragons must have drowned out the knocking.

  “I envy you so much,” Dior said, her tone wistful.

  “Um...what?”

  “You are able to ignore a summons whenever you wish. You come and go from the palace as you please. You spend time in a tent with a beautiful avian prince. Alone.”

  I exhaled. “What a pair we make, huh? I have been envious of you.”

  “Oh, that’s so wonderful to hear. I mean...” She groaned. “I’m ruining this, aren’t I?”

&nb
sp; We shared a laugh. When we reached the end of the mountain path, we left our unicorns with one of the guards and walked down the cobblestone path that led to the entrance of the marketplace. The other guards trailed us. Multiple vendors sold drawings of their favorite combatants, bells to ring during the fight, and ribbons to wave.

  Anyone who spotted Dior smiled, as if they were seeing an old friend. I was mostly ignored, as if my father’s disdain had spread. For once, I didn’t mind. I had the love of two dragons. I was good.

  Dior hooked arms with me when we reached the coliseum. We scaled the steps together. I didn’t tire until we reached the dais. At my urging, Dior claimed the king’s throne, and I claimed the queen’s, happy to sit where my mother would have. The guards who’d followed us formed a half circle behind us, acting as a wall of protection.

  No combatants were on the field yet, so I picked up our conversation. “What’s Azul like?” I asked. “I’ve always wondered.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Well, there are two kingdoms, one underwater for the mer-folk and one topside for the mortals. We have a season of storms, but mostly our days are wonderfully warm, the scent of coconuts and orchids drifting on the breeze. Our palace is a massive structure that floats over the ocean. We have a new view every morning. You simply must visit one day.”

  “I think I’d like that.”

  “I’ll show you all my favorite spots,” she replied with a grin. Then she clapped, bouncing in her seat as the master of ceremonies took his place in the corner of the dais, several feet away. “Oh, this is so exciting. The third battle is only seconds away!”

  I meant to smile back, but my attention got snagged by the warriors running onto the battlefield. Two battles had taken place already, with a wolfin taking home the first victory and Milo taking home the second. Thanks to sand stained with crimson, it was clear both battles had been violent. Both winners had won a few of the voluntary contests, and they’d had advantages over the others. Thankfully, Saxon had won advantages, too.

  I’d cheered every time I’d heard his name called through my window.

  After the master of ceremonies made his speech, the battle horn blew, signaling the start of the heat. As the men rushed together, punching and kicking, I stroked my mother’s ring, and watched, riveted, as one of the mighty elven ripped through his opponents, while pixies dropped intoxibombs from the air. Soon those bombs got the better of him, allowing a goblin to end him.

  Pixie wings produced a special dust. That dust created intoxibombs. Anyone who inhaled it remained in a state of confusion for several minutes, making the battle more difficult.

  The intoxibombs slowed the goblin down, but they didn’t stop him, and he managed to fight his way to victory.

  A snake-shifter won the fourth heat, though he and his opponents actually passed out from the effects of the intoxibombs.

  Snakes were known as the most hedonistic of the species, constantly using intoxibombs for fun, so it was no wonder this one woke first and slaughtered everyone else.

  Other heats started and ended. Finally, the second to last drew to a close. As soon as the bodies were cleared from the field, a countdown clock ticked inside my head. The final battle heat would kick off in five minutes, twenty-nine...twenty-eight...twenty-seven seconds.

  I all but bounced in my seat.

  The five who remained—Eve’s fae, a giant, a gorgon, a vampire, and Saxon. Thankfully, the avian would have a weapon. Others might not. Still. The danger he was soon to face...

  Five minutes, eighteen seconds.

  “Oh, dear. I’m so sorry I didn’t notice earlier, but you have a little soot on your brow.” Dior withdrew a handkerchief from the sleeve of her gown and gently wiped my face.

  I sat in silence, allowing her to clean me. A supposed servant’s chore. What if we were both Cinder? Could a prophecy tell more than one girl’s story at the same time? The fairy tales had the ability to repeat and twist, so why not have multiple versions transpiring in unison? Her prince would be different from mine, and we’d find him one way or another.

  “May I offer you a maple tartlet, Princess?” An older servant approached Dior, extending a silver platter. “They are a Sevónian delicacy.”

  She bestowed a bright smile upon the man as she selected a treat, and he smiled back.

  I reached up to select a tartlet of my own, and his smile faded. I sighed and collected my pastry.

  He returned his gaze to Dior, growing grave. “Be sure not to venture into the forest today, Princess.” He looked left, then right, then leaned toward her to whisper, “Someone spotted the Evil Queen this morn.”

  Dior gasped, clearly scandalized to her very soul. With a tremor in her voice, she asked, “What terrible things did this Evil Queen do?”

  The servant replied, “I’m told she builds an army to defy the king. Did you know she even turned her own blood to poison so that anyone who encounters her blood will sicken?”

  “Oh. Well. That’s...bad?” I said. “Where was she spotted, exactly? That way I can definitely avoid that area of the forest. Like, really stay far away from it.” Before, I’d written off this evil queen just like everyone else. But I knew better than to trust the tales of others now. So. I wouldn’t be making a decision about Queen Everly Morrow until I’d gotten to know her.

  I could ask her about her powers. If she knew anything about phantoms. If she knew a good place to hide dragons...for no particular reason other than curiosity, of course.

  The crowd erupted with cheers, excitement crackling in the air.

  The servant rushed off, but I’d already lost interest in him. This was it. Five warriors jogged to the center of the field. There was Eve’s fae...the vampire...the gorgon...the giant with massive horns protruding from his scalp...and Saxon.

  I hadn’t seen him in forever. For. Ever. He looked rougher than I’d expected, his dark hair in disarray, his eyes bloodshot, and his jaw covered with thicker stubble than usual. He also looked bigger, as if he’d gained another fifty pounds of solid muscle—as if he packed cinder blocks of rage beneath his skin. I fanned my cheeks.

  “I think this is the round where armor is off limits for some,” Dior said, clapping. “Look at that strength.”

  How would Saxon handle the intoxibombs? Already the pixies hovered in the air, awaiting their cue.

  I’d always loved pixies. They were playful, sometimes vindictive, but always truthful. About the size of my hand, they looked like miniature avian.

  Dior squealed with delight. “Look at those wings. That face. Those muscles. I could just take my hands and—” A blush spread over her cheeks. “I mean, Saxon seems very smart.”

  “Trust me,” I said, my tone dry, “I get it.” Like I could really blame her, anyway. She had eyes.

  “I’ve wanted to speak to him ever since our first meeting, but he’s always peered right through me. Then I witnessed him act so cruelly to you that day in the throne room, and I decided he wasn’t worth my time. But then, under your influence, he softened, and I couldn’t help but take a second and third glance. Unless you like him? I thought you two were sworn enemies, but now I’m not sure. And I promise you, I had planned to feel very guilty about marrying my stepsister’s sworn enemy. For a little while. Probably.” Her gaze moved over the field, only to stop abruptly and widen. “How is Saxon supposed to win against a giant? What if the giant wins the tournament, and I’m forced to wed him?”

  New sympathy for her welled. “Saxon will win this round.” He must. And if he didn’t... No. He would. “Our prophecy has yet to be fulfilled, and he’s part of it. Plus, he won the right to wield a weapon...then he lost the right to wield it, won a boon, lost a boon, then finally won another weapon.”

  He wore a shirt made of metal mesh, those muscles on display. Black leather pants molded to his thighs. His wings appeared white, as if they’d been smeared with...ash? I
wondered about the significance. Was he saying hello to me? Maybe?

  The master lifted the magical horn that was able to amplify his volume. “Welcome one, welcome all to the final battle of the day. I’m not sure how many of you attended our first nine heats—” cheers resounded “—or how many missed them?” Boos rang out. He laughed. “As you know, the purpose of each heat is simple. Be the last combatant standing. So, are you ready to unleash the last group of beasts?”

  The cheers were deafening, and I waited with baited breath for the horn to sound. Saxon kept his back to me. Did he know I was here? Did he care?

  The horn blared at last. I tensed as the fighters rushed forward. Like the others, they punched, and they kicked. They clawed, and they bit. Saxon’s wings both helped and hurt him, allowing him to move at speeds the others couldn’t track, but also giving the others more real estate to grab or harm.

  I winced when the giant ripped out a fistful of feathers.

  For his weapon, Saxon had chosen a plain, ordinary dagger, but he wasn’t using it, and I didn’t understand why.

  Dior leaned into me, whispering, “Which warrior do you watch so raptly? The one I suspect?”

  “Yes. I watch Saxon, as you do.” I wouldn’t deny it. “He’s a good person sometimes, and I need—I want him to survive.” I wanted him to have the life Leonora had denied him.

  “I see,” she said, and released a slight puff of breath. Would she become my enemy now? “Ashleigh, I need to know the truth, so there’s no confusion between us. Do you want Saxon for yourself? Even if he wins the tournament?”

  “No,” I said, the negation bursting from me. “Maybe?” I corrected more calmly. “But he would never... I would never...” Ugh. “We have too much bad blood between us.” At least, that was how it seemed right now. If fate had other plans for Cinder and her prince, as I hoped, I was willing to sacrifice my animosity. Because I was kind. “But, um, what if I did want him for myself?” How would she react?

  To my shock, she replied, “I’d ask the king to allow Saxon to choose between us.”