The Glass Queen Read online

  I liked to eat.

  Sighing, I grabbed my basket and strode to the nearest exit, where I stopped. A crisp, warm breeze caressed my skin, seeping past my threadbare sackcloth. A squirrel sprinted along a tree branch, spotted me, and halted.

  As he spun to make a hasty retreat, I stuck out my tongue. He wasn’t the first critter to run away from me, and I doubted he would be the last. For whatever reason, animals despised me just as people did. Which I still didn’t understand. I wasn’t useless or stupid. I had talents and a lot of love to give. Shouldn’t character define a person rather than physical ability?

  Before I emerged any farther, I performed a quick sky check, on the lookout for avian.

  About once a month, a group of them showed up to fly overhead and throw rocks at my head. A few times, they’d even landed...

  I shuddered. I was due for another visitation any day.

  There was no telltale sign of wings, thank goodness. Still, I performed a weapon’s check next, making sure my makeshift dagger was hidden beneath the pocket I’d sown into my dress.

  All right. Good to go. I hurried out to war with the leaves and hunt the proper herbs. By the time I finished, the day had grown quite hot. My limbs shook from exertion. Sweat soaked me, and dirt streaked me. Better return to the Temple before I passed out.

  Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

  I went still, my heart suddenly banging on my ribs. I knew that sound well. How many avian had come? How close were they?

  How far was the Temple? My gaze zoomed to my home. Two hundred feet maybe?

  Too far. I’d never make it. But what other choice did I have? I clutched my basket to my chest and sprang into a mad dash, throwing a quick glance over my shoulder. Only one avian had come for me, but he was the worst of the bunch. A male with white skin, black wings, and red hair. I’d dubbed him Trio.

  Pain exploded between my shoulder blades, and I knew the brute had thrown a rock at me. I careened to my hands and knees, my lungs emptying in a rush. The herbs tumbled from the basket, and Trio laughed.

  The dryads would fume over the lack of seasoning for dinner, but there was no help for it. I wanted to survive. Not bothering to gather my bounty, I scrambled up and sprinted forward at a faster clip, tossing another glance over my shoulder.

  Too close. Almost upon me. I pumped my arms, hoping to quicken my step. Thud. Searing pain. I grunted as that pain ricocheted through me, the momentum taking me down once again.

  Trio soared past me, landing a few feet away to unveil a slow grin.

  Trying not to vomit, I reached for the dagger I’d made from a bundle of knitting needles I’d sourced. “I’m warning you,” I began, and he laughed again. “I will stab you.”

  He lifted another stone. A bigger one. “Let’s have some fun, you and I.”

  “Did someone mention fun?” A gust of wind blew in, carrying an unfamiliar voice. When it died, a girl who looked to be my age stood between the avian and me.

  My pulse raced. Who—or what—was she? A witch? She must be. Like all the magically inclined, she wore wrist cuffs.

  She glanced back to wink at me. Wavy brown hair framed a lovely face with flawless brown skin and fathomless brown eyes.

  Definitely a witch. An azure glow of power rimmed her irises.

  Multiple diamond chokers circled her neck. A thin, golden breastplate etched with swirling symbols safeguarded her torso, sparking envy in me. So beautifully crafted. A thick leather belt looped around her waist with a bejeweled dagger hanging at each side. Underneath a mesh skirt, she sported leather tights and fur-lined boots.

  Was she the witch the dryads were expecting?

  “My name is Ophelia,” she announced.

  Trio backed up several steps. “I know who you are.”

  “I highly doubt you do.” She spread her arms, then her fingers, as if reaching into thin air for her magic. “If you knew who I was, you’d know what I’m capable of, and you’d be halfway home by now.”

  He popped his jaw, emitting a frisson of fear.

  The witch smirked. “I was sent by Ashleigh’s father, King Philipp. He expects me to collect his daughter and return her to the palace in one piece. If I have to sew her back together, I’m going to use parts of you to do it.”

  Wait. “You were, and he does?” Ophelia wasn’t just any witch, then; she was a royal one I’d never met. Sent by my father. Who wanted me home. Me. Home! The knowledge dawned like a new day inside me, teeming with possibilities.

  “I just said so, didn’t I?” she replied, exasperated.

  “You can’t come here and—” Trio began.

  She waved her hand, and he went silent, even though his mouth continued to move. “Are you sure about that?”

  As he frantically clutched his throat, I staggered to my feet, the muscles in my lower back protesting the action. Ignoring the pain wasn’t difficult when I got to enjoy Trio’s defeat.

  “I think I’ve made my point.” Another wave of the witch’s hand.

  Trio burst out “—strike at me is to strike at all avian. You will get out of my way, witch, or you will suffer for it.”

  “But you’re just too dumb to understand it,” she added. “What do you think you can do to me, hmm?” A challenge layered every word. “Please. Tell me. I’m metaphorically dying to know.”

  His scowl intensified, but he dropped the rock.

  Ohhh. I liked this girl. “I’m honored to make your acquaintance,” I whispered, only to realize I didn’t need to lower my volume. “Nice to make your acquaintance,” I repeated at the same volume she had used, and oh, wow, my vocal cords loved the vibration.

  “I know. Everyone is. Here, you’re supposed to read this.” She reached back to hand me an envelope sealed with Fleur’s official symbol—two roses framed by a shining sun.

  My heart leaped. The rose had been my mother’s favorite bloom. The very reason I’d made it my signature. No matter what weapon I designed, I found a way to incorporate the flower in some capacity.

  As Ophelia and Trio exchanged more taunts, I broke the wax, curious about what my father had to say.

  The paper read, “You will come home without delay.”

  Without delay. Because he’d forgiven me? Grinning, I hugged the paper to my chest and twirled.

  I’d thought about my father often, dreaming of going home and proving myself worthy of his affections. I’d had no contact with him since my banishment, but the little girl I used to be, the one who still lived inside me, wanted a relationship with him, approval, something.

  Whoosh. Whoosh. The hated sound jolted me from my celebration. I looked up, expecting Trio to be on the attack. Instead, he was flying away from us.

  I really liked this witch.

  “Come,” Ophelia said, pivoting on a booted heel. “We must leave now. He grows impatient.”

  My father? “I can’t leave without my designs and my eggs.”

  “Is this amateur hour? Of course you can’t.” Ophelia waved her hand toward me, and a small satchel materialized, the strap draped across my chest. “That’s why they’re already in your possession.”

  “Impossible. The satchel is so small—” I stuck in a hand and gaped as I was able to put in my arm to the shoulder. A magic satchel, with more room than it appeared to have. I rooted through the contents and, sure enough, there was a stack of my designs, all four dragon eggs that were double the size of an ostrich egg and a handful of books. With my mother’s ring secured around my neck, I had everything I needed to start a new life. Now I smiled at the witch. “You’re right. Thank you.”

  “I don’t need thanks. I just need action.” She motioned behind me. “Let’s go.”

  Yes. Let’s. No reason to say goodbye to the dryads. I doubted they cared. And how sad was that? I’d known them for three whole years, and I’d never won them over. I could
n’t think of one who would miss me. “Are we going to walk?” I asked as I turned. I hadn’t noticed a mode of conveyance. Well. I hadn’t. Now a pumpkin-shaped unicorn-drawn carriage awaited me.

  “Get in, Princess,” Ophelia said, suddenly directly behind me, her warm breath on the back of my neck. “Just so you know, I could have whisked you to the palace in seconds. I’m that powerful. But I’m saving my magic for the delights to come.”

  Delights? What did she mean?

  I reached for the carriage’s handle to pull myself up and noticed my red, callused hands, the dirt caked under my nails. I cast my gaze over the horrid state of my clothing, and I wanted to sink into the ground. “I can’t let my father see me like this.”

  “You can, and you will.” I thought she mumbled, “Let him see what his neglect has wrought,” but I couldn’t be sure.

  With a sigh, I climbed inside the carriage, careful of my eggs. Ophelia entered behind me, and the unicorns launched into motion. Only minutes later, we were entering the infamous Enchantian Forest, where most citizens dared not tread without a magical guide.

  I tossed a final glance over my shoulder to bid the Temple goodbye, but the cluster of hollowed-out trees was already gone.

  We must have traveled through one of the many invisible doorways common in the area, each one able to whisk unwitting bystanders miles away to another section of the forest in only a blink. Here, a blue and gold light enveloped taller trees, pulsing as if we’d reached the heart of the forest.

  Ophelia buffed her nails and asked, “Do you know anything about the new Empress of the Forest? Well, she prefers the title of queen.”

  “I’ve heard conflicting reports about her. Some say she’s good, some say she’s evil.” Which was she? Since the state of her heart dictated the state of the forest, the answer kind of mattered. “Have you gotten to meet her?”

  The witch fluffed her hair. “I don’t want to brag, but we’re very mediocre friends. You would love her. You have so much in common.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re both evil.”

  “I’m not evil,” I burst out. And oh, wow, every divot and rock bounced me atop the cushionless bench, bruising my already bruised backside.

  “My mistake. I’d thought I’d heard rumors...”

  I humphed. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

  As we bumped along, I stopped trying to make conversation with the witch and let my mind venture to my homecoming. How would my father welcome me? If I received just one smile...

  Did Milo work at the palace? Did he still have his father’s journals? I’d replayed our final interaction anytime I’d learned something new about Leonora. While I remained certain Milo was wrong and I wasn’t somehow a centuries-old witch, I sometimes...occasionally...possibly...entertained the barest hint of doubt. I still felt as if I had hidden magic. So, I’d studied at every opportunity, and cobbled together a patchwork history for the fire witch.

  Leonora was the daughter of a warlock king and a witch queen. Her entire coven had been eager to discover the powerful magic she would wield. But, at the age of sixteen, she’d failed to manifest an ability. Then, inexplicably, at the age of twenty-one, everything had changed.

  I massaged the back of my neck. This was where things got a bit too coincidental for my liking. She’d begun to create and manipulate fire.

  Soon after, she’d met the first avian king, Craven the Destroyer. He’d stormed through Enchantia, enslaving different species and overtaking multiple kingdoms, Leonora’s among them. A handful of accounts claimed he’d spied her, desired her, and abducted her, then kept her locked away in the Avian Mountains. One account said she’d gone with him willingly. I leaned toward the first because she’d mounted a successful escape about a year later, causing the eruption of their war.

  Centuries after that, one of Craven’s great grandchildren was said to have resumed the war with one of Leonora’s great grandchildren, with the same results. The avian and his people destroyed, the witch the victor.

  But how had Milo known what Leonora desired most? What had his father written about us, and how could I get hold of his notes?

  “Whatever you’re overthinking, stop.” Ophelia patted my knee. “All thoughts create energy. Certain thoughts create a lot of energy. My fuel. I feed on it. But if you keep this up, I’m going to spontaneously combust.”

  An exaggeration, surely. “Have you heard of a woman named Leonora the Burner of Worlds? She was a witch, like you, only she came from ancient times.”

  “Sorry, but I’m one of a kind. I’m an apple baby.”

  Um, that was impossible. Wasn’t it? “There were once three Trees of New Beginnings. Now there are none.” They’d been destroyed. A fact the dryads lamented often.

  Once, women who desired a baby could eat an apple from a Tree of New Beginnings and conceive or birth a child within a year. I wasn’t clear on the specifics. If I remembered right, though, those babies were said to be powerful beyond imagining—and destined to reach a tragic end.

  “Were they destroyed, then? You watched them die? I wish my mother had known before she ate one of their apples.” Ophelia hiked a shoulder in a shrug, all poor woman. “I’ve heard about Leonora, yes. She torched Craven the Destroyer’s kingdom to the ground after she beheaded him. Such an amateur move. I would have torched the village first and made him watch. Twice.”

  So, Ophelia knew what I knew and little else. How disappointing.

  How long till we reached our destination? I leaned over to peer out the window, seeing the trees I’d expected and...snow? I frowned. Fleur did not snow in summer.

  Shadows fell over the treetops, and I jerked my gaze up. I recoiled. An entire horde of avian. Never had I seen so many winged warriors in one location. No more than ten at once had ever visited the palace in Fleur, and only five had tormented me at the Temple. They dwelt primarily in the Avian Mountains, so territorial they preferred not to leave. So why were so many here now?

  Unless they’d come to greet me with rocks?

  Quaking, I looked out at the dreary mountains that loomed in the distance. A massive stone fortress topped the largest and—

  Mountains?

  “Ophelia? I think we accidentally traveled through the wrong doorways.” Usually witches sensed where each invisible entrance led and navigated accordingly. “We’re in Sevón, not Fleur.”

  “Gold star for you, Princess.” She shifted, getting comfortable. “Not too long ago, your uncle forced a young sorceress named Everly Morrow to marry him. Everly murdered him right after the wedding, of course, making Roth the king of Sevón. He imprisoned the sorceress, but soon fell madly in love with her. The two joined forces and went to war with Princess Farrah, who joined forces with the new sorcerian overlord, Nicolas.”

  I could only gap at her. What the—what?

  “Farrah and Nicolas are currently at war with the entire Azul Dynasty,” she continued, gossip clearly her favorite language. “Or they would be, if Nicolas wasn’t missing and Farrah wasn’t imprisoned in a glass coffin deep in the heart of the forest. Your father decided to use the civil unrest to sneak into Sevón, kill Roth’s most loyal servants and claim the kingdom as his own. Meaning, yes, your father is now at war with Roth and Everly, who rule the Enchantian Forest. She wanted to abduct you during your return to the palace and ransom you back to your father—for each of his limbs—but I told her no way, that she’s got to wait at least three weeks before she even considers amputation.”

  “Um, thanks?” My head spun, my entire world suddenly turned upside down and inside out. Word about this had never reached the Temple. I hadn’t known my uncle, King Challen, was dead. I hadn’t known him well, either, but I’d liked him, and I mourned his loss.

  Had he really forced a sorceress to wed him?

  I hadn’t known my father had displaced my c
ousin to save the kingdom from that same evil sorceress, or that Roth had fallen in love.

  “How is my father?” I asked softly. “He is well?”

  “If you don’t mind ’em entitled, selfish, and greedy, then yeah, he is well. Tomorrow, he kicks off a three-week tournament that’s open to any eligible bachelor in the land. The prize is a grand one—your stepsister’s hand in marriage. As we speak, males are flocking into the realm to fight for her. I’m tempted to enter the tournament myself. The girl can turn anything into gold with her touch alone.”

  What! “Please, back up. I have a stepsister?”

  The witch shook her head. “You have two of them. Soon after your banishment, your father married a princess of Azul. A widow with two daughters. Dior is your age, and Marabella is two years younger.”

  More changes to digest. My father had remarried, and I had a stepmother and two stepsisters whom I’d never met, one of them magically inclined, the way I’d always dreamed of being.

  Needing comfort, I reached up to stroke my beloved ring. Would my new family like me or would they find me lacking?

  “Do you have news about—” Don’t do it. Don’t ask. “Saxon Skylair, the avian prince?” Withering roses. I’d asked.

  “Oh, yes,” she replied, her lips curving into a smile. “He’s the crown prince now, and the poor kid has had a tough month. Farrah, whom he loved like a sister, betrayed him in order to strike at Everly. And Roth, if you want to get technical. Girl was jealous and lashing out. Then came your father’s attack. Then Saxon’s father and older brother fought a water witch and drowned—on land. So, Queen Raven called her only son home to rule as king. He agreed to return once he concludes some life-and-death business in Sevón.”

  Foreboding prickled the back of my neck. Saxon, soon-to-be king of the avian. King. Their ultimate commander. Considering his business coincided with my summons home...

  This did not bode well for my return.

  As king, Saxon wouldn’t be content to send his men to throw rocks at me. He would expect more spectacular results.