Red Hood's Revenge

by Jim C. Hines

  The hunter’s other hand closed over hers. He yanked the knife from her grip and shoved her to the ground.

  “You have so much in common with the Lady of the Red Hood,” Zestan said. “Such hatred. It killed her in the end.”

  Talia flexed her hand. The fingers were numb, and bloody blisters showed where the hunter had squeezed her wrist. She hugged the wrist close to her body, beneath the cape. “Hate was all the Hunt left her. It kept her alive. It gave her purpose.”

  Zestan took the knife from the hunter. Her smile disappeared. “What is this?” She raised the knife, and Snow’s illusion fell away, revealing simple steel. The mirror at the crossguard was still exposed.

  Talia’s right hand shot out from the cape, throwing Muhazil’s knife. At this distance, not even Zestan was fast enough to stop the blade from sinking into her chest. Zestan staggered, one hand coming up to touch the hilt.

  The hunters grabbed her from either side, but she stepped back, ramming her elbows into their stomachs. The blows didn’t do much, but the hunters bent over enough for her to reach up and catch the throat of the hunter to her right. She spun, slamming him into his companion.

  They recovered quickly, but even as the rest of the Hunt moved toward her, the moonlight started to fade from their bodies. Talia ducked one attack, blocked a spear thrust with her forearm, and then they were gone.

  Talia stood, rubbing her arm. Zestan’s other spells were dying along with her. One by one, the towers of sand collapsed, sending clouds of dust out until they obscured everything below. Talia coughed as the sand billowed over the palace wall.

  “Thank you, Snow,” she whispered. Bending down, she yanked the knife from Zestan’s chest. White cracks spiderwebbed the blade. As she straightened, pebbles of crystal fell away until only a single broken shard remained, jutting from the hilt. Muhazil would not be happy. She picked up Snow’s knife as well, tucking it through her belt.

  “I would have made Arathea great.” Zestan shivered. “Just as we made you great. If not for us—” Her body tightened, wings stiffening beneath her.

  “My parents trusted the fairies who spoke such words. Who offered to save me, to make me better than human.” Talia bent down, grabbing Zestan’s tunic in both hands. The peri was lighter than Talia expected. “Khardija. Faziya. Beatrice. Snow and Danielle. They made me who I am today. You just make me angry.”

  With those words, she threw Zestan’s body from the wall, then went to search for her friends.

  CHAPTER 24

  “SNOW?” TALIA MADE HER WAY THROUGH empty hallways and abandoned rooms. The stables were a putrid mess of mud and decaying grass. A single whiff told her this must be where Naghesh had slept. She could smell traces of fairy magic, and she spied a handful of tiny animated wisps of wind and water cowering on the far side of the stables. None were strong enough to be a threat. “Danielle?”

  The palace swallowed her shouts. She hurried through the garden, where Zestan’s flowers had already begun to wilt in the sun.

  “Talia!” Danielle’s voice came from the northern wing.

  Talia found them at the base of the broken windcatcher. Snow was leaning against Danielle for support, but they were both alive. Talia hurried to take Snow’s other arm.

  “I’m all right,” Snow protested. “I can walk.”

  “I know,” said Danielle. “You walked right into the wall, remember?”

  Snow flushed. “I didn’t think you saw that.”

  “What happened?” asked Talia. “Are you—”

  “What happened is you yelling at me through my mirror,” Snow complained, “demanding an illusion with no time to prepare.” She squinted at the sky. “The moon is gone. I assume that means Zestan is dead?”

  “Your magic worked,” said Talia. “Thank you.”

  “Of course it worked.” Snow stumbled over a half-buried stone. The collapse of Zestan’s whirlwinds had dumped several dunes worth of sand. “Did you have to get sand all over everything when you killed her? I’ve never felt this gritty in my life.”

  Outside, the survivors had split into two groups. Many of the Kha’iida were gathered around Zestan’s body, singing a deep, somber melody that reminded Talia of a mourning chant. She recognized neither the tune nor the language. Farther away, people worked to treat the injured. Talia searched until she spied Faziya.

  “I think I’d like to go home now,” Snow said.

  Talia smiled and helped Danielle lower Snow to the ground, settling her in the shade against the wall. When she straightened, Muhazil was coming toward her. He carried Danielle’s sword.

  “A magnificent weapon,” he said, offering it to Danielle.

  Talia translated, and Danielle bowed as she took back her sword. “How do you say thank you?”

  “Kuhran,” said Talia. Danielle repeated the word.

  Talia turned to watch as the Kha’iida took turns kneeling before Zestan’s body. One by one, they each used their knives to cut off a lock of hair, which they set in the sand beside the peri.

  “She meant to enslave you all,” Talia said.

  “I know.” Muhazil touched the short hank of hair at his neck. “The peri founded the Kha’iida tribes. They protected us from the deev. We grieve for what she was, not what she became.”

  “You barbarians have some strange customs.” Talia handed him the remains of the crystal knife. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”

  He dismissed her apology with a flick of his hand. “Each blade was meant to be used but once. Only by releasing all of their power can they overcome the strength of a deev.” His voice softened. “Or a peri.”

  “What of the other peri?” Talia asked.

  “We will send riders to the mountains,” said Muhazil. “There are ancient roads leading to the green peaks, hidden to all but a handful of our people. Our seers will awaken the peri and tell them of Zestan’s betrayal.”

  She could feel the wolf urging her to fight, to follow the Kha’iida back to the mountains and kill every last peri, to make certain they never again threatened Arathea. As far as she knew, the peri had never spread beyond the borders of this land. Destroying them here would end their threat forever. “If they’re asleep, maybe you’re better off leaving them that way. Zestan might not be the only one who’s tired of waiting for redemption. Better still, if they’re asleep, that means they’re vulnerable . . .”

  “Just as you and your family were?” Muhazil asked.

  For a moment, Talia imagined she could see the hedge surrounding her, could hear the shouts of the sisters as they ran toward her. She exhaled slowly, pushing the memory from her mind. “You’re right,” she said softly. “Zestan’s crimes are her own. I apologize.”

  “Should the deev ever return, we will need the peri again.” He glanced at Zestan. “I admit, I’d prefer if they stayed in their mountains until that day comes.”

  Talia would have said more, but Faziya was hurrying toward her. Muhazil smiled and left without another word.

  “You’re mad,” Talia said as she wrapped her arms around Faziya, lifting her into the air. “Your bandages are still spotted with blood, and you ride into the middle of battle?”

  “Me? You attacked the Wild Hunt! You fought a peri!”

  “I won, didn’t I?” Talia kissed her.

  Faziya returned the kiss with enthusiasm before pulling away. “Your hand. What happened?”

  “I’ll live.” Talia took her arm. “Could you please look at Snow? She—”

  Faziya was already moving. She crouched and held her palm in front of Snow’s mouth, checking her breathing. Snow shoved the hand aside. Faziya made a scolding noise and felt Snow’s cheeks, then her forehead.

  “I’m just tired,” Snow protested.

  “You’re cold. Your breathing is quick and shallow, and your pupils are too large.” Faziya gently ran her fingers through Snow’s hair. “This hard lump. This is where you injured your head?”

  “I’ll be fine as soon as I get some slee
p.” Snow covered her eyes with one hand. “Arathea is too bright.”

  “You need food and water to restore your strength,” Faziya insisted. She pinched the back of Snow’s hand. “You haven’t been drinking enough. Your body needs more water in the desert.” She turned away to shout at one of the other Kha’iida, telling him to bring a waterskin. To Snow, she added, “You know it’s dangerous to sleep after an injury to the head.”

  “This isn’t a new injury,” Snow said. “It’s more than a year old—”

  “But never fully healed,” Faziya countered. “You’ve aggravated it. You need rest, but not sleep.”

  Danielle leaned close to Talia. “Which one do you think will win?”

  “I thought you couldn’t understand Arathean,” Talia said.

  “No, but I know Snow’s tone.” Danielle glanced past Talia, and her smile vanished.

  Talia turned to see more of Lakhim’s soldiers approaching. A growl built in the back of her throat. The ebony horse must have continued to bring Lakhim’s men. They now outnumbered the Kha’iida nearly two to one, and the newcomers were fresh and ready for battle. “Stay here.”

  Talia strode to meet them. She was unsurprised when Danielle followed.

  The raqeem walked at the head of his men. His sash of rank was knotted around a gash in his thigh. He kept his hands open, away from his weapons. Little comfort, given that his men held spears and swords ready.

  “Talia,” said the raqeem. “Our orders are to bring you back to Queen Lakhim.” He at least had the decency to sound apologetic.

  Talia spread her arms and smiled. “Be my guest.”

  “Wait!” Muhazil moved to stand beside her. “This is Talia Malak-el-Dahshat. She risked her life to protect this land. She probably saved Lakhim’s life.”

  “She murdered Prince Jihab,” said the raqeem. “Whatever else she might have done, she must answer for that death.”

  Those Kha’iida who could fight were spreading out behind Talia, readying their weapons.

  Talia still carried her own knives, but she didn’t bother to draw them. Even with one hand injured, she could spring forward and break the raqeem’s neck before anyone else reacted. She wanted to fight. Numbers made no difference. These men served Lakhim, the woman who had sentenced Talia to death. Whose family had taken everything Talia ever knew. Her nation, her heritage, even her children.

  Zestan had been right. Arathea would follow Sleeping Beauty. Just as Rajil’s guards had turned against their raikh to help Talia. Just as the Kha’iida gathered behind her now. One fight at a time, she could take Arathea back.

  “What do you want?” asked Danielle. She hadn’t even drawn her sword.

  Talia’s rage broke. If she fought, Danielle would be caught in the middle. Faziya and Snow were farther back, but all it would take was a single clumsy shot with a bow to kill them both. Snow would try to fight, and who knew what would happen if she continued to push herself to use more magic.

  Roudette had spent her life fighting. Talia didn’t want to follow that same path.

  Danielle must have read the answer in Talia’s face. She stepped forward, putting a hand on Talia’s shoulder. “Go with them.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Do you trust me?”

  Talia glared. Danielle’s smile was highly inappropriate for one standing between angry warriors.

  “These soldiers are men of Arathea too,” Danielle said. “Your people. I’ve watched you this past week, Talia. I know you don’t want to fight them.”

  “I don’t want to have my head cut off, either,” Talia snapped.

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  The wolf’s rage was building, urging Talia to attack. She pushed it back. “You’ve been spending too much time with Beatrice.”

  Danielle’s smile grew.

  Talia turned around, looking past the Kha’iida to Snow and Faziya. Danielle was right, damn her. To the raqeem, she said, “I’ll go with you.”

  Muhazil started to protest, but Talia cut him off. “Your people have more important duties than to protect me.”

  She watched as two soldiers ran to fetch the ebony horse. The raqeem climbed onto the horse’s bare back. Talia followed, watching Danielle closely. Danielle said nothing. She simply waited, lips twitching.

  A second soldier mounted behind Talia. The raqeem kicked his heels into the horse’s sides and shouted, “To the queen!”

  Nothing happened. The raqeem kicked again and repeated his command, slightly flustered.

  This time the horse did respond, but rather than vanishing into the wind, it trotted at a leisurely pace toward Danielle. She smiled and reached up to stroke the horse’s head. “Talia, would you please translate for me?”

  Talia looked at Danielle, then at the horse. Slowly, she too began to smile.

  “Tell this man to stop yelling at his horse. Otherwise, I’ll ask it to ride out to the middle of the ocean. I know you can swim.”

  Talia repeated Danielle’s words. The ebony horse couldn’t actually cross the ocean, but she doubted the raqeem would know that.

  The raqeem straightened. “Who are you?”

  “That makes no difference,” said Danielle. “What matters is I’ve told your horse who Talia is. He knows his true master.”

  Talia pursed her lips. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but even if we steal the horse, Lakhim will never stop—”

  “I’ve never stolen a thing in my life,” Danielle protested. “Despite what my stepsisters used to say.”

  The raqeem reached for his sword. The ebony horse turned his head. A single red-jeweled eye flashed in the sun. Slowly, the raqeem removed his hand.

  “Talia and I will speak to your queen,” Danielle said.

  He didn’t move. Talia could have tossed him from the horse, but she restrained herself. “You were ordered to bring us to Lakhim. I give you my word we will go to her. Not to fight but to talk.”

  He twisted about, studying her for a moment, then climbed down from the horse. He barked an order at the other soldier, who followed.

  “I assume the horse knows where to find Queen Lakhim?” Danielle asked.

  “The palace,” said the raqeem. “She returned home as soon as she received word of Zestan’s death.” He glanced at the spot where Zestan had fallen.

  Danielle climbed up behind Talia.

  “Wait,” said Faziya. She moved slowly, doing her best to hide her weakness. She stepped past both groups of warriors until she reached the horse. There, she looked up at Talia and said only, “Return to me.”

  Talia’s throat knotted. “I will.”

  Faziya walked away without another word. Danielle whispered a command, and the desert vanished.

  There was no wind. No sense of movement. Nothing but cold and darkness, lasting only long enough for Talia to wonder what might happen to one who jumped free before arriving at her destination.

  Shouts erupted all around them as the horse trotted to a halt. Talia didn’t bother to hide her smirk. “You told it to bring us to the throne room?”

  Danielle shrugged. “I said to take us to Lakhim. Be thankful she wasn’t using the privy.”

  Neither Talia nor Danielle moved as guards surrounded the horse. Queen Lakhim sat in the single throne in front of an abstract painting of the sun, as though she were the source of all light. Talia gritted her teeth. Her family had never stooped to such drama.

  Burgundy carpeting covered the floors, woven with intricate geometric designs in gold and silver thread, now marred by large hoofprints. The pillars were trimmed in gold leaf, as were the arches supporting the high vaulted ceiling. Each section of the ceiling had been painted with an image of Lakhim’s family.

  Talia tensed as she spotted the portrait of Prince Jihab. The artist had painted him in front of the accursed hedge, sword gleaming in the sun as he prepared to cut his way into the palace.

  Danielle touched Talia’s arm and pointed to the right of the throne, where two chi
ldren stood in the shadows.

  Talia’s nails dug into her fists. She could have passed her sons on the street and never would have recognized them, but who else could they be, dressed in the gold-and-green robes of nobility, their faces all but identical. They had their father’s deep set eyes and angular jaw, but their faces were narrower, reminding Talia of her own brothers. Their hair was cut short, dark bangs swirling flat against their brows. She had no idea which twin was which.

  “Talia.” Lakhim spat the name as though it were a curse. The years as queen had taken their toll. Her hair was grayer, her face more wrinkled than Talia remembered. She stood with a slight hunch, making her appear shorter. She wore a golden circlet, the crown of the haishak, the regent for the princes.

  The twins stared at Talia, fear and confusion plain on their young faces. They hadn’t recognized Talia, but it was clear they knew her name.

  Danielle jumped from the horse. “Lakhim, I am Danielle Whiteshore of Lorindar. I’ve come to discuss an end to your vendetta against Princess Talia.”

  Lakhim stared at Danielle, her expression stone. “This woman murdered my son.”

  Lakhim’s speech was heavily accented, but she spoke the language of Lorindar well enough for Danielle to understand. Danielle met her glare without flinching. “And your assassin murdered my people. Her actions resulted in the death of my stepsister.”

  “Roudette was sent to retrieve a killer and a threat to Arathea.” Lakhim glanced at Talia. “Apparently she failed.”

  “Shall we debate whose was the first sin, Lakhim?” Danielle strode forward. If Talia hadn’t known her, she never would have seen how nervous Danielle was. Her tutelage under Queen Beatrice had paid off. “What of Talia’s family, preserved with her behind the hedge? Whose hand slit their throats as they slept, killing even the smallest child?”

  Lakhim rose. “You dare—”