Red Hood's Revenge (17 page)

“Don’t leave him!”
Her dreamself heard nothing but the hounds as she set out into the night.

Gentle shaking jolted her awake. She gasped and slapped Danielle’s hand away.

“You cried out in your sleep.”

Roudette dug her fingers into the cape, feeling the wolf’s strength, letting its anger and hunger wash over her. She closed her eyes, listening to the howls from the street. The sound never stopped. “I thought they had come for me.”

For a month the Wild Hunt had pursued them. Roudette had killed one of their number, and she believed they meant to avenge that death, but revenge was human. They cared only for finishing the hunt, and that night they had come for Jaun. “They never tire. They never stop, and they will kill anyone who comes between them and their prey.”

“So how do you survive?” asked Danielle.

Roudette bared her teeth. “Become the hunter, not the prey.”

 

Talia found Mother Khardija in the garden, working by the light of the moon to pinch undersized blooms from a row of fire lilies.

“Everything we grow serves one of two purposes,” she said as Talia entered. “Food or medicine. Food we can buy in the market if we must, but medicine . . .” She turned in a slow circle. “Should anything happen to this garden, it would take months to regrow. Do we harvest everything tonight, though many of the plants are too young, or do we leave them alone and hope no harm comes to them?”

Talia crouched by a small flower with long orange leaves. “How many people have you treated for addiction to ruquq leaf? Leave those plants unguarded, and every flower will be stolen before nightfall.” She stood. “Harvest the plants that would do harm in the wrong hands. As for the rest, take enough to see you through four days. That gives you time to contact the other temples, and they can send what medicines you need.”

“A wise solution, Princess.” Mother Khardija’s smile made Talia suspect she had already decided to do exactly as Talia suggested. “Arathea has need of such wisdom.”

“What wisdom is there in waiting here to die?” Talia asked. “The Wild Hunt will kill you if you stay.”

Khardija sighed. “Jenx el-Barhud is four years old. He was burned in a fire three nights ago. Here we can use salves and potions to keep him asleep, but the slightest movement cracks open the wounds.” She turned, peering at the wall of the garden as though she could see through the bricks to the people beyond. “In room three a Kha’iida woman named Risha lies motionless, her back broken in two places. The journey here left her paralyzed. To move her again risks her death. There are others in similar conditions. Would you have me abandon them to the Hunt?”

“You can’t protect them all,” Talia protested.

“Perhaps. There are stories in which the Hunt spares those with the courage to face them.”

“No.” Talia stood, fighting the urge to shake her. “You can’t trust your life to a story.”

Mother Khardija brushed her hands together, signaling the end of a conversation. “How is your leg?”

“I’m fine. Snow stitched the cut.”

“And your friend, the one who was bitten?”

Talia sighed. “She’s not my friend, and she tended her own wound.”

“Animal bites are particularly dangerous,” Khardija said. “Ask one of the sisters for a poultice of—”

“Why did Faziya leave the temple, Mother?”

She turned away. “You know the temple requires no oaths. Anyone is free to leave at any time. Your friend is Kha’iida. It’s in her nature to wander.”

It stung to think Mother Khardija would lie to her. “Faziya spent eight years of her life in this temple. This was her home. The only time she left was to attend church.”

“There are aspects of fairy beliefs that always appealed to her.”

“I know.” How many times had they fought over Faziya’s loyalty to the fairy church? “She saved my life, Mother. You healed my body, but she’s the one who helped me to find myself.”

“By turning you into a criminal,” snapped Mother Khardija. “Pranks in the kitchen are one thing, but Faziya and her rebel friends nearly got you killed.”

“I was already dead,” Talia answered. “Those people gave me a reason to live.”

“So Faziya explained each time she brought you back to me,” said Khardija. “Each time I had to bind your wounds and set your bones. For what? Burning down one of the raikh’s warehouses? Robbing a royal caravan? You are a princess of Arathea, but you behaved like the petty nobles who snarled and fought over the bones of our land for the past hundred years, lashing out in anger and destruction with no larger goal until that anger threatened to consume you.”

“These people were the closest thing I had to a family,” Talia protested.

Mother Khardija brought one hand to her neck, massaging the pressure points to either side. “They were thieves and murderers.”

“We fought Lakhim—”

“Your petty crimes were nothing more than the bite of a fly. Do you know why Queen Lakhim fears you? It’s more than your curse. More than her need to avenge her son. She fears your power.” Rarely had Talia heard such urgency in Mother Khardija’s voice. She used this tone only when fighting to save a life. “She fears what will happen when Sleeping Beauty returns to Arathea. Her family has ruled but a handful of years. Yours ruled for three centuries. The people would rally to you, Talia. They would follow you.”

Talia swallowed. “I didn’t come here to take back my throne, Khardija. Queen Lakhim isn’t the threat. Zestan and the Wild Hunt are.”

Screams and hoofbeats from the street interrupted them. Talia drew her knife without thinking, but the rider was already thundering past the temple.

“Faziya believed, as you, that Zestan and the Hunt were the greater danger.”

“That’s why she left, isn’t it?” Faziya was no warrior, but she was clever. “She went to the church, didn’t she? To ask for their help to protect her people from the Hunt.” No one knew more of fairy history than the priests of the church.

Mother Khardija sighed. “I might have been wrong when I tried to stop Faziya from helping you.”

Both the unexpected admission and the change in subject threw Talia off-balance. “I don’t understand.”

“Even as I tended your body’s wounds, I could see your soul growing stronger.” She knelt and began cutting the ruquq flowers. “I worried what the company of criminals would do to you. Looking at you now, seeing the woman you have become, I admit Faziya might have known your needs better than I.”

Talia bent down to help, gathering the round flowers into a single pile. “What happened to her, Mother?”

“When Sister Faziya failed to return, I went to the church myself. Father Uf’uyan was unavailable, but Father Yasar told me Sister Faziya had come to see them. He said Faziya was upset and had most likely returned to the desert.”

Talia shook her head. “She wouldn’t leave without speaking to you.”

“I agree.” She raised a dirt-smeared hand to Talia’s face. “I know you, child. Even now you think to smash down the doors of the church and beat the truth from the priests.”

Talia was already rising. “Something like that, yes.”

“Faziya may be beyond your help.”

The words were like a sword sliding through her chest. “If so, the priests will need more than prayers to protect them.”

 

The temple storeroom was as busy as Talia had ever seen, with sisters bustling past to pack everything they would need to care for their patients. Talia dodged to one side as a young girl emerged carrying a stack of blankets.

Inside the storeroom, Talia helped herself to a dark gray silk shirt and a pair of black trousers. She chose clothes for the others and hurried back to her room, stopping only to grab food and drink from the kitchen.

The cats still patrolled the entrance, but apparently they had accepted her as safe, as they allowed her to pass without waking Danielle.

Talia changed in silence, leaving her sleeves open and loose to allow her to reach the knives on her forearms. The pants she tied off at the ankles. A black sash circled her waist, knotted on the left hip. She hoped fashion hadn’t changed too much in the time she had been away.

She tucked a longer knife through the sash. Her zaraq whip balanced things out on the other side, hidden by the knot. Her sword went through the back where she could reach it with either hand. She draped a white cape over her shoulders, buttoning the top. Black tassels at the hem weighted the cape enough to hide her weapons from casual view.

The sounds of the Wild Hunt had vanished. She glanced at her companions, reluctant to wake them. Snow in particular needed sleep after working so much magic the day before.

The noise of the temple saved her that choice. With the Hunt gone, the sisters redoubled their efforts to evacuate the grounds. Footsteps hurried past, and the groans and cries of the patients soon filled the temple as people hobbled from their rooms on injuries not yet fully healed.

Roudette was first to wake, bolting upright and staring at Talia for a moment before relaxing. Danielle followed, and finally Snow pulled her blanket over her head and mumbled, “It’s still dark!”

Talia grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked it away. “The Hunt is gone. If you won’t get up on your own, I’ll find something to help you. The desert is full of snakes and lizards that love to curl up with a nice warm body.”

Snow glared. “Try it and I’ll turn you into one.”

Roudette was already helping herself to the breakfast Talia had brought. Steam rose from a torn loaf of black-crusted bread. Several bunches of grapes sat nested between the loaves. On the back of the tray were two clay jugs, warm goat milk in one and beer in the other.

Snow sniffed the jugs. “Beer for breakfast?”

Talia grinned. “Welcome to Arathea.”

Roudette snatched the beer and drank several huge gulps directly from the jug, following it with a huge bite of bread. “This bread tastes like gravel. Isn’t there any meat in this place?”

Talia grabbed a handful of grapes, her mouth already watering. The sour taste made her smile. Lorindar’s grapes were too sweet. She helped herself to the milk next. Warm and thick, with a sweet aftertaste. It was far too long since she had eaten a proper breakfast.

“Snow, are you strong enough for spellcasting?” she asked. Snow’s illusions had vanished after the fight with the hunter. “Foreigners are rare this deep in Arathea.”

Still chewing, Snow gestured with one hand, restoring her disguises to Danielle and herself. “What about Roudette?”

“Her skin is light, but she might pass for a northerner.” Talia circled Roudette. “That blonde hair will draw attention before we’re two steps out of the temple, and the cape has to go. Only the fairy folk wear such vivid colors.”