Blinding Beauty (42 page)

Ever hadn’t seen another human
soul since he’d left the Fortress. Judging from how long Isa had
been gone, he knew he should be approaching the castle anytime.
Hunger gnawed at him, but he pressed on. The length of time it was
taking made him uneasy, and he hoped the strange bridge between
realms hadn’t closed already.

Without warning, Ever’s horse came
to a violent halt, and he was nearly thrown from his seat. “Well,
boy, keeping me on my toes, are you?” He rubbed the nervous
animal’s neck and whispered soothing words in his ear as he
dismounted. The horse had come to a stop just at the edge of a new
mountain range that stretched from east to west as far as Ever
could see.

Knowing the horse would not take
him farther, Ever took the reins and began to lead the animal
himself. The sense of power was much stronger here, and though his
horse, Hugon, was familiar with Ever’s own strength, it seemed he
did not like the new power one bit. Ever somehow knew that the
narrow pass through the towering heights was where he needed to go,
so there was no sense in pushing his faithful friend past his
limit.

Ever found a protected cave at the
base of the mountain to his right, where he fed and watered the
beast. “You know what to do,” he crooned as he brushed his animal
down.

On the day Ever had been presented
with his first horse, his father had insisted he train the horse
himself, and one of the first major lessons he was instructed to
practice was setting the horse free in case of disaster. The
practice had taught him to use his unique strength in an entirely
new way, and now, as he spoke to his horse for perhaps the last
time, he was grateful.

“
One day,” he told his old friend.
“If I’m not back in one day, you need to go home as fast as you
can.” The horse tossed his midnight mane and nudged Ever’s hand for
sugar. With a heavy heart, Ever gave him another lump from his pack
before checking his weapons once more, and then setting off on
foot.

Ever drew his sword as he walked
between the towering peaks. The road was notably easy to follow for
one that had been used so little in the past three thousand years.
The powdery snow crunching beneath his boots, and the warning moans
of the wind as it bounced off the mountain sides were the only
sounds he could hear. The farther he walked, the more the gusts
pushed back at him as well, as though he weren’t taking their
warnings seriously enough to leave.

“
I’m not afraid of death,” Ever
muttered to the worrisome wind. And it was true. Perhaps he’d
feared it once, before he had known what it felt like to witness
Isa dying. But this brush with eternity was different. He would
give his last breath and more if he could be sure that it would
return Isa to herself. No, he did not fear death.

But failure was another
consideration entirely.

After a ten-minute walk, he came
to the crest of the small hill between the mountains. And what he
saw brought him to a halt. As angry as he was, nothing, neither
stories nor dreams had prepared him for the beauty that lay ahead.
On both sides of the little path he stood upon, a black chasm
separated the towering, pointed, snow-encrusted cliffs from the
island that they encircled. Only a narrow bridge connected the
island of land to the world outside. It wasn’t the island that took
his breath away though. It was the castle.

Stories of the Glass Queen had
been passed down for so many generations that few knew what was
truth and what was myth. As a boy, Ever had searched the scrolls
and books for anything and everything that even hinted at the
mythical citadel.

“
Why don’t others believe?” he’d
once asked Garin as the steward had tucked him in. Garin had patted
his head and smiled indulgently.

“
Others don’t know the Maker’s
power the way you do. It takes a lot of faith to believe in
something you can’t see or feel.”

“
But I don’t see or feel the Glass
Castle,” Ever had argued, “and I still know it’s there.” Then he’d
leaned forward eagerly. “Do you think I will ever see the castle
one day?”

“
No one has seen that castle in
three thousand years. But who knows? Perhaps you shall.”

Ever had passed many hours of his
early childhood dreaming of meeting the Glass Queen. Surely she
would understand him, he’d thought. She would know what it was like
to be powerful, to be different. And now, here he was, ready to
visit the Glass Castle at last. But instead of meeting the Glass
Queen, he had come to kill her son.

Drawing his cloak around him
against the chill of the air, Ever steeled himself for what was to
come as he began the treacherous journey over the chasm. The
further out he went, the icier the path became. It narrowed as
well, until it was too thin for more than two men to walk at a
time.

The trip across the bridge covered
in snow and ice took him much longer than he had expected, but
finally, Ever arrived at the base of the castle. Glistening blue
and purple glass plates with frosted swirls like ivy and wind were
etched into the solid gates. Again, despite his hatred for the
enchanter himself, Ever had to wonder at the beauty of it all, and
his soul ached just a bit. Why couldn’t the son have died, and the
queen have survived instead? There were so many things he longed to
ask her. What was it like to have so much power? Had she always
felt slightly deserted, the way he had growing up?

Was there a way to return Isa’s
power to her?

But he hadn’t come to gawk. Ever
removed one of his leather gloves and placed his palm against the
right gate. Closing his eyes, he pressed firmly, and blue flame
leaped from his hand. With a creak, the gate began to open. He
stepped through, relieved. He hadn’t been sure until then that the
ancient castle would respond to the Fortress’s power.

Four blue, sleek steps stretched
across the entire entrance and led up to the castle itself. Two
more great doors towered above Ever, and again, they opened for his
power. A small flicker of hope warmed his heart. Perhaps he did
stand a chance of surviving this encounter. After all, it was all
the Maker’s power, and his cause was the righteous one.

Vengeance isn’t generally
considered a noble cause, a blunt voice inside of him whispered,
making him pause before passing through the gigantic
door.

But he wasn’t doing this for
vengeance. The man needed to be stopped.

True as that may be, you know you
wouldn’t be satisfied if he simply fell over and died of old age
after all he’s done to Isa. You want to make him suffer.

And it was true. Never had Everard
longed so much to shed one man’s blood.

Just as he began to enter,
something made him stop once again. It was faint, but it sounded
like someone was whistling, an eerie noise in the empty halls. He
followed the unfamiliar tune through the longest and highest throne
room he’d ever imagined. The entire Fortress could have fit into
this room alone. The whistling took him down a smaller hallway, out
of the throne room and to the left. Ever’s heart sped up to an
alarming rate as he got closer. This was it.

When he pushed the door open,
however, there was no one, only a large furnace in the far corner
of a cluttered room filled with worktables and glass odds and ends
scattered everywhere. He stepped in and listened harder. The sound
was still getting closer. By the time he realized that the
whistling was coming from behind him, however, it was too
late.

“
Ah, there you are. I’ve been
expecting you.”

CHAPTER
FORTY-THREE

Ready or Not

Ever
whirled around to find the short, curly-haired servant from
Rafael’s palace holding a steaming tray of tea and biscuits. Ever
lifted his sword, but the small man only waved his hand as he
walked on by. “You won’t be needing that. I’ll tell you whatever
you want to know, so long as you allow me my nightly cup of tea. It
helps me sleep.”

If the little man had meant to
make Ever more comfortable, he had done exactly the opposite.
Knowing his enemy would tell him everything meant he had only one
purpose for Ever. Death, or some fate even worse, where he wouldn’t
be able to utter a word of it to anyone. Still, as Ever warily
watched the man pour, stir, and sip his own tea, the idea of
discovering what the enchanter had planned was tantalizing. Ever
didn’t sheath his sword, but he did lower it enough to stand
directly before the enchanter as the small man served himself a
biscuit.

“
You’ll tell me
anything?”

“
Ask away.” Bronkendol smiled and
leaned back in his chair as though he were merely having a friend
over to gossip. Ever wasn’t sure where the question came from, but
it was the first one on his tongue that didn’t tempt him even more
to kill the enchanter then and there.

“
Why Launce?”

“
He recently asked me the same
question,” the enchanter chuckled. “I like that boy. You see, I
knew I needed someone new, unsullied by the world, hence the
contest. I had hoped that of the many contestants, I might find
someone that I could at least tolerate. And then you thrust him
right into my hands.”

“
Launce hates the
court.”

“
But he’s also young and
impressionable. And also desperate for some approval.”

Was he? Ever tried to remember if
he’d ever noticed that about the young man, but his mind was too
cluttered to remember.

“
I know what you’re not asking
though.” Bronkendol placed his tea on a table’s edge and stood up,
all signs of joviality gone. “And I can assure you that I will
never be able to express to her how sorry I am for what had to be
done.”

Ever tightened his grip on the
sword.

“
I know it must be difficult for
you to understand now, but in time, you will.”

“
You sent her back a shell of who
she was before!” Ever exploded. “Her fire is gone, and she can no
longer laugh! Why did any of that have to be done?”

“
I saved her life.” He crossed his
arms and studied Ever. “Your wife was losing her fire already.
Before it left her on its own accord, I took it from her so that
she would continue to live at least in body.” His voice grew
softer. “I didn’t want her to die the way your father did when his
fire was extinguished.”

Cold fear trickled into every part
of Ever’s body. What had this man done to her that was so bad that
he still refused to tell him? As if the enchanter knew what he was
thinking, he pulled a small mirror from his pocket and held it out
to Ever.

“
It would be easiest if I simply
showed you instead.”

Ever glared at him for a long
moment before looking into the mirror.

He could see Isa bound to the
chair that faced the furnace in the corner of the very room he was
standing in. The fear on her face broke Ever’s heart. Isa wasn’t a
warrior, nor had Ever trained her to withstand torture. She
shouldn’t have needed that training.

The enchanter’s light hit Isa’s
heart with such a force that her chair slammed backwards, straining
against the chains that bound it to the floor. Her face went
specter white as the glass which he held to her chest began to suck
the life from her body. Tears of rage welled in Ever’s eyes as he
watched her suffer. The worst part was hearing her cry out his name
over and over again. No wonder she believed he’d failed her. She
had pleaded with him to come. And he hadn’t.

Ever thought the scene would end
soon. It must. But instead, it dragged on as Isa fought for every
bit of her heart as it was wrenched from her. Despite knowing the
outcome, panic slipped through Ever as he realized she was giving
in. Her fight, valiant as it had been, had come to an end, and as
her head rolled forward, Ever saw for himself what she had truly
lost.

“
That kind of pain should have
killed her!” Ever’s voice was not his own. It sounded
strangled.

“
I shared some of my own strength
with her so she would last,” Bronkendol said as the mirror went
dark. “I promise, I made it as short and simple as possible. But it
will be for the best.”

“
For the best?” Ever slammed his
fist into the enchanter’s temple. Bronkendol went flying backwards,
and Ever hated him all the more for surviving the attack. That kind
of hit would have killed an average man. “You killed your mother
for power, and now you’ve taken every sliver of happiness from my
wife!” This time, Ever kicked him so hard he heard the satisfying
crack of a rib. “Was it worth it?” he shouted.

The enchanter slumped against the
floor, shaking with the effort, but at last, he raised his head to
speak.

“
The power to influence hearts and
bring peace to the people? Yes.” Bronkendol’s eyes darkened. “It
was worth it.”

Ever raised his sword, but it
didn’t come down as it was supposed to. It felt like it had caught
on something. Looking back, Ever realized that it was.

A glass man, taller than any
human, had caught his sword with one hand. With a shout, Ever sent
a bolt of blue flame up his weapon, and the glass giant shattered
to pieces. Before Ever could turn back to Bronkendol, however,
another glass man emerged from the far wall. This one had his own
scythe, a piece of glass twisted to reveal hundreds of razor edges
along its blade.