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

  What had killed Mom? A virus? Heart attack?

  Everly is a danger to you.

  I knocked at my temples to dislodge Nicolas’s voice. Angrier by the second, I whipped out my cell phone and typed, Where are you? TELL ME! Please come home!

  I’d texted him a thousand times but hadn’t received a single response. Did he know what had happened? Did he not know we missed him? Could the sorcerer not sense that we needed him?

  What if something terrible had happened to him?

  The hospital kept calling, hoping to speak with someone about releasing Mom’s body, and the results of the autopsy. A memorial service had to be planned and paid for by someone with money. I didn’t qualify on either count.

  I wasn’t sure how much time we had until Social Services showed up.

  “What can I do to help you, Harts?” Could I help her? How were we supposed to go on without our mother?

  Some fairy tales ended with a happily-ever-after. Why hadn’t ours? Honestly, I wasn’t sure I would ever be happy again.

  What message had Mom tried to convey with her final words? Mother, aunt. Father, sorcerer. Sister, cousin. Love, hate. Will be whatever heart desires.

  Hartly gave another moan, and I lifted her limp hand to my cheek. I couldn’t lose her, too. I would rather die. “I’m here. Whatever you need, I’ll do.”

  No response.

  Leaning over, I plucked a fresh rag and a bottle of icy water from the coffee table. I kept all kinds of supplies close, just in case. After soaking the rag, I returned the bottle without its cap—where had that little bugger gone?—then dabbed at her feverish skin.

  I slid my gaze over the living room. How many times had I watched Mom bustle around in here? How many times had she smiled as we knitted? How many times had she paced while giving us a lecture?

  On the walls, next to her paintings, were pictures of her. Bookshelves contained a bazillion variations of “Little Snow White.” An array of vases overflowed with dried flowers, emitting a sweet fragrance. All gifts from Nicolas.

  Pretties for my pretty, he’d said.

  I didn’t want to remember. I didn’t want to forget. I wanted to destroy the vases and books. I wanted to protect every item with bubble wrap.

  “I need you to get better, Harts,” I said. “Please, get better. You are my life. Enchantia is real, and the witch—an actual, honest to goodness witch—might come to retrieve us in seventy-two hours, so we have a major decision to make. Do we go without Mom? Or do we stay here, the only home we’ve ever known? Without Nicolas, we’ll probably end up in foster care and lose everything we’ve ever known anyway.”

  Silence. I sighed.

  “Enchantia it is, then.” Farrah had mentioned magical healers. Maybe they could aid Hartly. “We can meet Aunt Violet and Truly and tour the land. From what I can tell, there are four territories. Airaria is a desert paradise. Sevón is a mining town, with mountains and avian. The Province of Fleur is a wonderland of flowers. And the Azul Dynasty is all water and islands. I’m so curious about them.”

  Silence.

  “There’s this avian, a protector to the max,” I said. “You could date him, and I could date...oh, I don’t know...just spitballing off the top of my head, with no one specific in mind...a prince.” I had zero desire to date right now but wanted to give Hartly hope about something.

  “You’ll flip when you see Truly,” I continued. “She’s an Everly-Hartly hybrid, and she has a secret girlfriend named Farrah. Princess Farrah. Apparently, we Morrow girls like to go for the gold. Well, except for me. With Peter, I went for rusted tin.”

  Amid my chatter, Hartly blinked open her eyes. Relief bathed me, only to rinse away a second later. If eyes were the window to the soul, her soul had become an ocean of pain.

  To be fair, I could be seeing my own reflection. Never experienced such grief.

  Happy smile. Pretend all is well. “Why is six afraid of seven? It’s not. Numbers aren’t capable of feeling emotion.”

  Though her eyes remained bleak, she managed a small, half-hearted smile. “What did the small cat say to the big cat? Meow.” Her voice was raspy from disuse. “I’m sorry I’ve been so out of it. I’m trying to rally, I promise, but I’m just so tired.” Frowning, she canted her head to the side. “The birds say he’s coming.”

  “Who’s coming? What birds?” There were no birds in the house. And the ones outside had scattered just before the storm hit.

  “Ever since Mom—” Her chin trembled. “The voices have been muted. Now, I’m hearing them again.”

  Happy smile.

  The front door burst open and crashed against the wall, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. An icy breeze blustered through the living room, my neatly stacked washrags tumbling off the coffee table. A bottle of Tylenol followed. The capless water tipped over, liquid glugging to the floor.

  Breath sharpened like a blade, lodging in my throat. Nicolas stood there, panting, rain and hail hammering at the porch. Strain enveloped his red-rimmed eyes. His golden hair and dark suit were drenched. Somehow, that wetness made him appear more menacing than ever, like he was an extension of the shadows and a living embodiment of the storm. Fury in human form.

  In seconds, I underwent a complete cycle of all-consuming emotion. Relief, joy, anxiety, confusion, more anger. My stepdad had returned healthy and whole. Why had he stayed away? Why hadn’t he texted or called?

  As I stood, lightning streaked the sky, bathing him in bright light. Raindrops clung to his lashes. Or tears? Both?

  He slitted his lids, pure malevolence emanating from him. When he noticed Hartly, who was struggling to sit up, the malevolence magnified. I shrank back, every heartbeat like a cannon blast.

  This was Nicolas, my stepdad. I had nothing to fear.

  Everly is a danger to you, and to Hartly. Stronger magic requires more power—power she’ll syphon from you.

  Had I syphoned from my mother every time I’d peered into a mirror? My sister?

  A storm began to rage inside me. Hartly’s color had improved for the first time in days. Because I hadn’t sought another vision?

  No. I couldn’t have syphoned from her. I didn’t know how.

  Well, I didn’t know how to breathe, either, but still I managed to do it multiple times a minute.

  I sucked in a breath—proving it—then shook my head. I would never hurt my loved ones.

  “Where have you been?” I shouted, almost choking on the words. “We needed you. Mom needed you. She’s...she died, and you weren’t here, and...and...”

  Voice frayed at the edges, he said, “I was taking steps to save your mother and help you. I never thought...” His fury doubled. Tripled.

  I will help her acquire an altilium.

  Pure aggression, he took a step toward me. “Have you been using your magic, Everly?”

  The accusation in his tone frightened me, and I considered lying. But no. No way would I dishonor Mom by speaking what she’d dubbed the language of evil. “Not today. But yesterday? The day before? Yes. I tried and failed.”

  Another step. “What magical ability do you possess?”

  Gulp. “Mom called it seer magic.”

  Flinch. “Just like your father, then.”

  “You knew Prince Edwin?” I asked.

  He paused, a strange gleam flashing over his expression, there and gone. “Edwin was entitled, like most Enchantian royals, but not cruel. He communed with animals, like Hartly.”

  So Edwin had communed with mirrors and animals?

  “On the other hand, the king, Edwin’s brother, was the cruelest man I’ve ever met. I admired him greatly. Just...stay here.” He kicked the door shut, then stalked to the office located in back of the house, leaving puddles of water in his wake.

  My stomach churned, and I sat back down to rest my head on Hartly’s should
er. Thor jumped between us, nudging me out of the way.

  “He means well,” she whispered.

  Who? Nicolas or Thor?

  Our stepdad returned with a sheet of paper in hand. Expression as blank as ever—which now frightened me more than the fury—he planted himself in the center of the room. “Your mother wrote a letter and made me vow to read it to you if ever something happened to her. So I’m going to read it, and then we’re going to talk.”

  At the same time, I reached for Hartly and she reached for me. We clung to each other.

  “‘To my greatest loves,’” he began. Immediately, my broken heart erupted like a volcano, scalding lava pouring through the many cracks.

  “What you are about to hear will shock and hurt you, and I’m sorry for that. But I’ll never be sorry for safeguarding your happiness. Had you known the truth, you would have worried and wondered what-if, and wanted what you couldn’t have—yet. A way back. Worse, mortals would doubt you and lock you away. I planned to tell you about your origins only if and when we returned home. Or if I died.”

  He paused, giving us a moment to absorb and calm. Though I doubted anything would ever calm me again.

  He read.

  “I married Prince Edwin of Airaria around the same time Lady Violet married his brother, the ever cruel and maddened King Stephan. According to Enchantian law, a wife has one year to conceive a child. If she fails, the husband is allowed to kill her. With time running out, Violet and I worked with another queen, a witch and an oracle to acquire apples from the Tree of New Beginnings. Within a month, we all conceived. Later we each gave birth to a healthy baby girl. Except for Violet, who gave birth to twins. Hartly, my love, your father is Prince Edwin. My darling Everly, your father is...not. I love you like a daughter, but I am your aunt. Your mother is Queen Violet, and your father is King Stephan. Hartly isn’t your sister, but your cousin. Truly isn’t your cousin, but your twin.”

  Every sentence hit me like a bomb blast. Blood rushed from my head and rang in my ears. Dizziness had me swaying on the couch. I was... I wasn’t... I couldn’t...

  A cruel king.

  Father.

  Maddened. Murderous. Evil.

  Dead.

  Had he regretted what he’d done to his brother, or what he’d wanted to do to six innocent infants?

  Far too soon, Nicolas resumed his task.

  “Hartly, Edwin died protecting us from Stephan’s sword. He distracted the king, allowing me to hide us both inside an illusion. I hid the twins and Violet, too. We planned to take you all to the mortal world, but we were caught, and Violet was injured. I could only carry Hartly and one other child. Violet had less than a second to decide which twin to place in my hands. Oh, how she sobbed, reminding me of a wounded animal. As soon as I had Everly in hand, I ran, leaving Violet and Truly behind. It remains one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done.”

  Less than a second to decide... Violet’s choice. More bomb blasts. More roaring and dizziness, terrible pangs bombarding my heart and mind. The worst I’d ever experienced.

  Hartly placed Thor in her lap and scooted closer to me. “You are my sister, my twin, and I love you. Always. I don’t care about semantics.”

  “I love you, too,” I croaked, then motioned to Nicolas. “Let’s hear the rest.” Before I broke down. No breaking down. Must stay strong.

  He gave a clipped nod and resumed reading.

  “I debated keeping you girls in the mortal world forever to circumvent the prophecy. A young girl tormented by someone she loves. A lethal plot by an evil queen. A kingdom forever stained by evil. A poisonous apple. Death in flames. What is literal, and what is symbolic? Then I wondered if trying to circumvent the prophecy is what causes it to come true. You must prepare for the worst, which means you must consult oracles and witches, which means you must return to Enchantia. If ever King Stephan dies, a witch will come here and escort you home. Do not worry. You need do nothing. An oracle will know your location and tell the witch.”

  You were right, Mom. The witch came.

  Nicolas continued,

  “When she arrives, say yes. Go to Enchantia. Get to know Queen Violet and Princess Truly. Learn about the prophecy. Study magic. Practice using it. Fight for better. Maybe one day, you’ll even change the law.’”

  He flipped up his gaze and glared at me. “‘Do not practice using magic. There are things you must learn first.’”

  Everly is a danger to you. I nodded, dazed, those pangs growing stronger.

  He cleared his throat and pulled the letter taut.

  “I pray you’ll forgive me one day. I love and adore you both, and I value every moment we’ve spent together. I’m so proud of the kind girls you are, and the strong women you’re becoming. I hope you live without regret. Create your own destiny one decision, one action at a time. Fall in love with someone who sees your incredible worth. When you reach the end of your wonderful, exciting lives, I hope you look back and smile because you did everything you wanted, loved with your whole heart, helped others and eschewed evil. From the bottom of my heart,

  Mom.”

  My lungs constricted, and I struggled to breathe.

  Hartly cuddled Thor against her chest. “I don’t want to wait. I want to see Mom’s homeland.”

  Nicolas shook his head. “Moving between dimensions requires power we do not have.”

  “Dimensions?” There were more worlds out there?

  “Countless,” he said. “They are like building blocks, stacked side by side and one atop the other, each one separated by a mystical curtain.” He folded the letter, saying, “Now, for the hard part.”

  What! “That wasn’t the hard part?”

  He pinned me with a glare. “Your mother denied it, but you are a sorceress, Everly. You might be the sorceress. The overlord. The most formidable of our kind, stronger even than me.”

  “No thanks. I’ll pass.”

  “Only fools ignore such a glorious birthright. Perhaps you require more information. Perhaps you want to kill others?”

  “No!” I gave my head a violent shake. “Mom told me a little about syphoning.”

  He blinked, surprised. “There is much I do not know about you, but one fact is true. A sorcerian steals other people’s magic by draining them to death, and we never have a preternatural ability of our own. You are different, probably because you are bonum et malum. I’m willing to bet you require more power than most. Which means you will syphon and kill more people than most.”

  Too much to process. I rubbed my aching temples. “You’re wrong. I’m not sorcerian.”

  He arched a brow, all, Oh really? “Do people fear and despise you for seemingly no reason? Do people inexplicably weaken around you? Do you sometimes enjoy the harm you cause others?”

  I flicked my tongue over an incisor. “You know I do.”

  “If the glass slipper fits,” he muttered. “Sorcerers are natural born predators. We make ourselves stronger by weakening our prey, stealing power—the battery—to wield magic that isn’t ours. People sense it.”

  I rubbed my temples harder. Only minutes ago, I’d been 100 percent certain I wasn’t dangerous. Now, that certainty dipped to 90—85—70 percent. If Mom had died because of me...

  Tears scalded my eyes, and shudders racked my body.

  “Now that Aubrey is gone, Hartly is your next source.” He scrubbed his face, wiping away even a micro-hint of emotion. “Being around you is life threatening for her. So, I will take her away, and you will stay here. You will not leave this house. Understand? If you leave, you could harm someone else. Is that what you want?”

  “No,” I whispered.

  “Someone else? A-are you trying to say Everly killed Mom?” Hartly gasped out, making the connection, too.

  He said nothing, and his expression never wavered. Answer enough. I curled i
nto myself, fighting a sob.

  “I don’t believe you.” She patted my back. “I know you didn’t do it, Ever.”

  Her support meant everything.

  “In three days, the witch will return,” he said. “We will travel to Enchantia—together—and I will teach you how to control your magic. The little bit—witch will try to leave me behind, but you won’t let her. You need me, for you can trust no one else, Ever. Others will only ever want to destroy you.”

  “Teach me today,” I said. Please. “Help me build an altilium.”

  He sucked in a breath. “How do you know—Never mind. There isn’t enough time for an altilium, especially now that you’ve begun syphoning from Hartly. By the way, take more of her power, and you will kill her.”

  7

  Fee-fie-fo-fum,

  I smell the blood of a broken one.

  You will kill her.

  Kill. Her.

  Kill.

  As Nicolas’s words reverberated inside my head, upending my entire world, he stalked to the couch, snatched Hartly around the waist and lifted her like a sack of potatoes. She held on to Thor, even as she thrashed against our stepfather’s rigid hold.

  “I’m taking you somewhere safe,” he told her. “We will return in time to greet the witch.”

  “No!” she bellowed. “I refuse to leave Everly.”

  The lava-filled cracks in my heart expanded. My lifeline was being taken from me, and it was too much to bear. Any second, I would die. Surely.

  Merciless, Nicolas strode to the door...past the door, entering the storm. Better to be battered by hail than to remain close to me?

  With her free hand, Hartly reached for me. Pain and panic glazed her eyes. “Don’t let him do this. Please, Everly!”

  Protests screaming inside my head, I sprinted to the door. Then I stopped. What if I had killed my mother? What if I’d hurt my sister?

  I needed answers. But to get answers, I needed to use my magic despite Nicolas’s warning. Therefore, I needed Hartly out of the danger zone.