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

  I just needed to syphon from Roth. And I could. The link remained. What’s more, he hadn’t compelled me to stop, not with him. Unless he wanted me to keep doing it so that Nicolas and Tyler couldn’t syphon from him? Or maybe he’d omitted the command on purpose, to test me?

  I’m ready for my F, Professor Roth.

  Not yet, not yet. First, I needed my hands free. Then I would use his magic against him. In the clearing, when he’d ordered me to go back to camp, I’d had no immunity to it, even though his power swam in my veins. Therefore, he would have no immunity against my compulsion...

  Silly prince. He’d underestimated me to his peril. I almost smiled.

  Truly entered my line of sight. Suddenly, I wanted to cry. Clad in a nightgown and cloak, with a bow slung over her back and a quiver dangling from her side, she paced in front of our tent. Vikander stood behind her in battle position, ready to attack any foe who dared approach.

  I stepped on a twig, drawing her attention. She whimpered with relief. “Thank the stars! You are safe.” Noticing my bonds, she frowned. “Why is she tied up? Free her immediately, Saxon.”

  He’d followed overhead and now landed at my side. “She is a sorceress. The one who syphoned from Roth. We caught her scheming with Nicolas Soren, son of the former overlord.”

  “No.” Truly shook her head, dark hair dancing. “You’re mistaken.”

  “He’s not.” I lifted my chin, as Hartly had done. “I’m a sorceress, and Nicolas is both my uncle and my stepfather.” Surprise! He’s your uncle, too.

  She recoiled, hissing, “Monster!”

  And I’d thought our parents’ rejection had hurt. This one cut deeper. Stephan and Violet hadn’t known anything about me, while Truly knew more than most.

  “I feared you were going to be locked inside an altilium.” Disgust all but dripped from her. “But you’re one of them. You do the locking.”

  Ignore the pain. “I’m not just one of them. I’m the best of them.” Why had I let myself be ashamed of my origins? I could do things most people couldn’t. “I wish I’d taken more from Roth.”

  She clutched her stomach as if hoping to ward off a sudden ache. Vikander regarded me with curiosity, and Saxon blanked his expression, revealing nothing.

  I didn’t need these people! I didn’t.

  I just needed Harts.

  “If my sister is hurt...” I contorted this way and that, pulling the garrote wire taut. Again, the pain was excruciating, threatening to fell me. Worth it! I slid my bound hands under my butt, then worked my legs behind my arms, one at a time, without toppling. “Heads will roll.”

  “Place her things in Roth’s tent,” Saxon told Vikander, handing off my precious possessions, “then help me check the perimeter for other sorcerian.”

  “Am I to restrain her further?” Vikander asked.

  “No need. Roth has compelled her.” Saxon turned to Truly. “If she asks for aid, shoot her.”

  How easily they spoke of harming me.

  How easily you harmed Roth.

  I gulped. The guys marched off. Now or never. I swallowed my guilt and fury, choosing to muster on. “Listen, and listen well. You and me? We are sisters. Twins. King Stephan is my father, and Queen Violet is my birth mother. Nicolas is your uncle.”

  “No.” She stumbled back. “You’re lying.”

  Full steam ahead. “Our father ordered our deaths. Violet and Aubrey tried to escape with us, but they were caught. Aubrey got away and took me to the mortal world, along with her daughter, Hartly. We remained there until Ophelia came with news of Stephan’s death.”

  “That cannot be. I...I am not a sorceress.”

  “Our magical abilities are different, just like our hair and eye color. You are more like Violet, and I’m more like King Stephan. You might not need to syphon, as I do, but you do have a connection to the sorcerian. The rumors about our grandmother’s affair with the overlord are true.”

  Paler by the second, she shook her head. “You have no proof of this.”

  Despite my bonds, I was able to reach up and yank my necklace, breaking the chain. I tossed both pieces of jewelry at her.

  Again, she stumbled back. The necklace and ring thumped against the toe of her boot.

  Another shake of her head. “This proves nothing. Rings can be stolen. Where is Aubrey? I’ve seen her portrait. I’ll recognize her. Or not.”

  “I told you. She’s dead.” Miserable, I admitted, “I didn’t know what I was, or what I could do...didn’t know I’d stolen from her every time I’d used my magic. I—I killed her.”

  Shake, shake, shake. “I would be a fool to trust you. You’ll say anything to gain an ally.” She started to turn away.

  I rushed out, “You’ve felt our connection from the beginning. It has nothing to do with the fairy tale, and everything to do with us.”

  Pause. A tear trickled down her cheek, nearly breaking me all over again.

  I might not need her, but I wanted her. I still loved her.

  “Why would my mother keep you a secret?” she asked softly. “Why would Ophelia and Noel?”

  “Violet believes I will steal her crown. Ophelia and Noel are schemers. Everything they do serves an endgame I’m not privy to. I only know they delivered Hartly to an army of trolls.” And turned me into a powder keg ready to blow. Calm. Steady. “Hartly is my sister by heart and cousin by blood. Our cousin. And you’re right. I’ll do anything to save her—but what I will or will not do doesn’t change the truth.”

  I stepped forward, hoping to clasp her hand. She stepped back. Ignore the flare of pain.

  “If ever Roth learns of our connection,” I told her, “my fate will become yours.”

  Behind me, leaves and limbs clapped together. Heart in my throat, I spun. Roth stalked into camp, his scowl darkening the closer he came to me. “Attempting to work your wiles on another victim, sorceress?”

  “Like it’s hard?” I offered a smile with bite. “I had you panting for me in record time.”

  He ran his tongue over his teeth, the picture of exasperation. “You act as if I’m the one who did something wrong. I’m not. You are the liar. You are the thief.”

  “You’re right,” I said, all sugary sweetness. “I should have confessed my secrets, even though your hatred for the entire race was crystal clear and I feared you’d cut off my hands. What a fool I was. When the next prince comes along, I’ll tell all. Do you think he’ll tell me if he’s engaged to another woman like you...oops, never mind.”

  He jerked his narrowed gaze to Truly. “Return to your tent, Princess. The sorceress will spend the night with me, and I will ensure she does not hurt anyone else.”

  All innocence, I said, “The good prince wants to have a pants party with the bad sorceress? Is it my birthday, or yours?”

  Looking like the world’s worries had settled on his shoulders, he scuffed a hand over his face. What, he’d expected me to take every insult he dished? “Are you proud of the trouble you’ve caused, sorceress?”

  “Who wouldn’t be? If only I’d caused more.” As he sputtered, indignant, I raised my chin even higher. “I’ve made mistakes. Some intentional, some accidental. If you want to yell at me for syphoning from you, go for it. I deserve it. I betrayed your trust in more ways than one. But I won’t accept blame for every mistake every sorcerer has ever made.”

  He gave me a gentle shove toward the tent. I stumbled inside. Before coming in behind me, he called, “Whatever you overhear, no one enters.”

  As the tent flap fell into place, I caught a final glimpse of Truly and her disgusted expression.

  Watch Everly pretend her heart isn’t crushed. Loathed by my parents and my twin sister.

  Fate—2. Everly—0.

  “You will go to the bed and sit,” Roth said, his voice like smoke, filling me up. “You will stay there unt
il I give you permission to rise.”

  Another compulsion. My feet walked me to the furs of their own volition. Hate this! Hate him! Hate myself.

  “Admit it,” I said as I clumsily sat. “Compulsion is the only way you can score a girlfriend.”

  The muscle started jumping in his jaw again. He sat at a desk made by Vikander. Tomorrow the fairy would use his magic to return that desk and chair to metal shavings.

  Roth poured himself a drink of...whiskey? Down the hatch.

  “You said you despise your magic and never use it,” I said, as if he needed the reminder. “How wonderful that you decided to make an exception for me.”

  He poured, downed and stared at the daggers in the center of the desk. My daggers.

  I’d never been inside his tent and now studied every detail. A small hole in the roof vented smoke from a central firepit. Only four pieces of furniture—the desk, the chair, a metal trunk and the pallet of furs created by the enchanted satchel.

  Once he’d teased me about his need for a maid. A total exaggeration. He kept everything neat and tidy. Just the way he wanted his life.

  “I didn’t imprison you, Roth. I didn’t kill your mother and brother, either.”

  “Nicolas’s father kept us locked in a dungeon for months,” he snapped. “At first, he used me to keep my mother and brother docile. When he realized what I could do, my age mattered little. He syphoned from me, too. I felt it, every time. The loss of strength. The flood of weakness. Then you syphoned from me, treating me as he did. As if my only value came from my magic.”

  Strangling again. “I apologized, and I meant it. I’m sorry I hurt you. If you need to spill my blood to forgive me, so be it. Spill my blood. Then we can part ways.”

  Dark, silken locks tumbled over his forehead. He thrust a hand through the strands, a gesture of pure frustration, yet he had a boyish aura. A lie! He wasn’t a boy—he was a royal warrior.

  “If I let you go,” he said, “you’ll steal from others. Harm others.”

  “I might borrow from others, but I never purposely harm. I just... I do what’s necessary to protect myself and my family.”

  He poured another glass of whiskey, downed it. “I think I’ve found what I’ve been searching for. So. Tomorrow we will begin our journey to Sevón.”

  He’d found the apple? “I don’t understand.”

  “How many times was Truly certain we had neared the Apple of Life and Death? Yet we never stumbled upon it. Now I know you have the ability to syphon from healers, killing them while bringing life to another. Life and death. You can deny it all you want, but I know you are the apple, Everly.”

  “Maybe I am,” I whispered, shocking him.

  He did a double take, as if I’d sprouted horns.

  “But you... You are a hypocrite, Roth. You’ll make use of my abilities as long as they help you. You’ll take any measure to save your family, no matter how despicable, but woe to anyone who does the same for theirs.”

  Done with him, done with this day, I reclined on the pallet. Phobia! My heart leaped. He perched on the pillow.

  —I bite prince. You run.—

  Darling spidorpion! He’d just shown me more kindness and support than my own twin. You don’t want to help me. I projected the words at him, the same way I’d done with Noel, hoping he would hear. I use magic, which means I’m your worst enemy. Plus, I can’t run from here. Compulsion won’t let me.

  —We not enemies. We friends. I help friend.—

  He did hear me. He also knew everything about me and liked me anyway. Thank you, sweet Phobia, but I must decline. If you help me, the prince could hurt you. I’d rather you stay alive and well.

  —I help.—

  Maybe you can, without going near the prince. Can you break the wire binding my wrists? Dare I hope?

  While Roth downed another shot, hopefully too distracted to notice, Phobia crawled over my arm to gnaw on the wire.

  One minute passed, two. The wire finally snapped, and a mewling sound escaped me. The little baby had done it!

  Thank you!

  “Hey. What are you doing?” Had Roth slurred his words?

  What to do with my newfound freedom?

  Pretending my wrists were still bound, I gave him the finger. “My mother told me evil can wear many faces. FYI, tonight it wears yours.”

  He poured and downed another shot and grumbled, “What does FYI mean?”

  “It stands for focus, you idiot. Hint—you’re the idiot. One day, the day you smarten up, you’ll regret your treatment of me.”

  He poured, downed. Dare I see this drinking as a vulnerability—for me? If he passed out before I’d gotten him to undo his compulsion...

  “Stop drinking and start enjoying the moment,” I said. “You have me at your mercy, princeling. So, show me mercy.”

  Poured. “Do you think I have mercy to spare for a sorceress?” Downed.

  “I’m the one bound and under threat. What do you have to drink about?”

  He glared at me. “Sorcerers are parasites. Leeches.”

  His insults were like barbs, lodging deep in my heart, leaking poison.

  “Sorcerers are also as human as you, with feelings, hopes and dreams.” Using the lewdest, crudest tone I could manage, I said, “Or are you trying to hint that you’d like me to suck on you?” Considering how many innuendos I’d had lobbed at me, I had a ready store on tap.

  He choked on the next shot.

  I eased upright to offer him my most maniacal grin. This time, he didn’t laugh.

  If I did what I was about to do, he would hate me more. And always.

  Could he hate me more?

  “Roth?” Using the link between us, I syphoned a stream of his power, taking as much as I could, as fast as I could. In seconds, compulsion tingled on my tongue.

  He paled and tottered on the chair.

  Guilt flared. I’d just hit him with the same weakness, reminding him of a past he’d rather forget.

  Before he could stop me, I said, “You will give me permission to rise from this pallet and say nothing else.”

  He had opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. He leaned back, disappointment settling over his features. If my heart hadn’t been a pile of rubble, I would have shattered again. This had been a test, and I’d just failed.

  Don’t care. Voice breaking at the edges, I added, “You will not speak again until I give you permission. You will not attack me or hurt me or follow me when I walk out of this tent. And I will walk out of this tent.”

  Scowl returning, deeper and darker, he stalked across the tent, closing in...

  24

  The deeper you wade into trouble,

  the quicker your life becomes rubble.

  I halfway expected the prince to laugh in my face. Instead, he obeyed my every command, fury shimmering in his eyes.

  “You may rise,” he said with gritted teeth.

  Laughing, I stood and patted his cheek. “Good boy. Now sit on the pallet.”

  Though his muscles bulged, signaling he fought my compulsion, he sat. He watched, seething, as I gathered my things and sheathed my daggers at my side.

  “I’m curious,” I said. “I know you wanted to test me, but you’re also smart enough not to let a sorceress get the upper hand. Why didn’t you compel me to stop syphoning from you?”

  Silence.

  How—oh. “You will answer me,” I said, “then return to your silence.”

  A vein popped out in the center of his forehead. Again, he fought compulsion. Again, he failed.

  “I knew you couldn’t syphon from me, despite the link between us, as long as your hands were bound. I hate that link...but I like it, too. I feel you here.” Glaring at me, he gave his chest a hard pound. “Didn’t want it to end.”

  I didn’t... I couldn
’t... He liked me despite everything?

  Or he had. Until I’d acted like the Evil Queen.

  “I feel sorry for you,” I told him, wanting him to hurt as I hurt. Sue me. “I could help you in a thousand different ways. I could harm you in a thousand different ways, too. Guess which way I’m leaning.”

  He made a choking sound.

  Pretending to check my reflection, I opened the compact. With a twirl of my fingers, I summoned Foreverly.

  She appeared with a sad grin. “I know you desire answers about Hartly, but Ophelia has hidden her. However, the witch cannot block the whispers of the forest’s inhabitants, and they say Hartly is unharmed.”

  Unharmed—for now—but probably terrified. Whatever fate befell my sister would befall Ophelia, Noel and all the trolls, as well.

  I’d never been so excited to hurt another person.

  Rather than thank my inner self aloud, I winked and shut the compact, then turned to Roth, who examined me with a furrowed brow.

  “What?” I asked with a shrug. “I’m beautiful. I like beautiful things.” I performed a slow spin. “Though the view from behind is just as spectacular, is it not?”

  His expression said, The next time I get my hands on you...

  As I approached him, I couldn’t help but draw a parallel between Violet’s life and my own. She couldn’t blame fate for her predicament. Her own choices had led her down that dark, dark road, reducing her to a cautionary tale. Those choices had shaped her...just as my choices would shape me.

  Could I have been better, if I’d chosen better?

  I patted his cheek. His thick shadow of stubble tickled my skin, just the way I lov—liked. Ignore the arc of pleasure. Pleasure was temporary. Revenge would last a lifetime.

  “I could drain you to death and keep your magical ability forever,” I reminded him. “There’s nothing you could do to stop me. I should drain you. Otherwise you’ll use the ability against me.”

  A vein bulged in his forehead as he continuously balled and unballed his hands. The muscle started twitching under his eye. All of his fury tells at once. Good. I’d made an impact.