Red Hood's Revenge (35 page)

R
OUDETTE SWALLOWED, TRYING TO suppress the wolf’s eagerness. She held Talia’s rope at the knot, her knuckles pressing the back of Talia’s neck. Knife ready in her other hand, she marched Talia forward.

The air stank of fairy magic. The hunters kept their distance, blocking off any escape but otherwise paying little mind to Roudette and Talia. Naghesh walked ahead, confident as a queen.

Roudette knew Talia was waiting for the right moment to break free and attack. Roudette would be her first target. Talia would fight, hoping either to kill Roudette for her betrayal or else to force Roudette to kill her in return, robbing Zestan of her prize. She tightened her grip on the rope, keeping Talia off-balance the best she could.

Roudette wasn’t sure who would win such a fight, not with her body burned from within. The pain had been worst in her shoulder, but the fire had spread quickly through her body. Pain continued to burst through her chest with every heartbeat, making her feel as though she had been stabbed. Naghesh had ended the curse, but she couldn’t reverse the damage it had already done.

As she neared the palace, she could make out the destruction left by the hedge. Stone blocks the size of wagons lay cracked, strangled by dead vines. An entire tower had collapsed to the west. A lone windcatcher hummed in the breeze, shutters long since broken away. Fallen masonry lay half buried in the sand.

Pain stabbed Roudette’s foot as though she had trodden on shards of glass. She tugged Talia back. “What is that?”

A line of stone cut through the dirt in front of them. It appeared to be the ruins of a wall, crumbled save for the very foundation. Though only one or two stones high, the line extended unbroken in both directions, circling the palace.

“A simple boundary wall,” said Naghesh, stepping over the stone. “Fairy magic, to keep out the unwanted. You have my word it will not harm you.”

Roudette shoved Talia forward, letting her cross first to make sure nothing happened. There were too many things that might not fall under the exact meaning of “harm.” She hoped her cape would protect her.

Talia appeared unharmed. Roudette braced herself and stepped over the wall. She grimaced as pain coursed through her. Thanks to the cape, her body reacted to fairy magic the same way some fairies reacted to iron. The pain was soon forgotten, however, as she looked around.

Within the bounds of this wall lay another world, a fairy world. The moon had tripled in size, the light transforming the sand to silver dust. The ruins of the palace had changed as well, as if a giant spider had wrapped a web of green crystal over the walls and towers that remained.

Roudette tightened her grip on Talia as a small army poured forth from the closest tower. The stench of death identified them not as fairy guardians, but as the spirits of the dead. Here within the bounds of the fairy wall, these men appeared as real as Roudette or Talia, as if the moonlight gave them form and solidity.

They stood in the garments they had worn in life, silken sashes and carefully tooled leather, golden rings and jeweled crowns. Most carried ornately decorated weapons, swords encrusted with enough gemstones to feed half a city.

“They’re princes,” Talia whispered. “These are the men who died trying to reach me. The hedge killed them all.”

“Killed them and kept them, from the look of it.” Kept them until Zestan arrived to use them as her protectors. There had to be more than a hundred ghosts filling the open land in front of the palace. Roudette spotted one with a gray beard hanging to the middle of his chest. Beside him stood a boy who couldn’t have been more than five years of age. His parents had probably hoped his smaller size would allow him to slip through the hedge where larger men had failed.

“I never realized there were so many,” said Talia. Her breath caught, and she pulled toward a middle-aged man in a long blue jacket. Bloodless holes in his chest showed how he had died. “Prince Amabar. He was my cousin. Amabar, it’s Talia.”

Amabar didn’t move. None of them seemed to recognize the prize they had died trying to reach.

Talia dropped to her knees. She appeared to be praying, but Roudette could hear her whispering to Snow and Danielle. “Be sure to warn the Kha’iida what they face here.”

“Where is Zestan?” Roudette demanded.

“She waits inside,” said Naghesh, indicating the palace with one hand. She pulled a necklace from her shirt, a pendant of green crystal the size of her thumb. “She sees and hears all that happens here.”

Roudette folded her arms into her cape. “Fulfill your bargain. Summon the rest of the Wild Hunt.”

“The Hunt obeys Zestan,” Naghesh said. “You have her word they will trouble your land no more.”

“And when Zestan falls?” Roudette shook her head. She felt like a child again, fighting to keep her voice from shaking. She was so close. “Let them all witness. Let the Wild Hunt itself pledge to obey.”

The Wild Hunt appeared without signal or sound. Each hunter seemed to carry a shard of the moon within himself, adding to the light until it was bright as day. Their mounts crowded together between the fairy wall and a depression in the earth that might have once been a decorative stream circling the palace.

Roudette’s fingers dug into a small pocket sewn into the hem of her cape. She carefully pulled out a small barbed weight, concealing it in her sweat-slick palm.

Naghesh spread her arms. “Zestan-e-Jheg swears to you that the Wild Hunt will never again trouble Morova. In exchange, you will hand Talia Malak-el-Dahshat into my keeping.”

With her other hand, Roudette hauled Talia to her feet. “Your word as a fairy that Zestan waits within those walls, that she hears and affirms this bargain?”

“You have my word,” said Naghesh.

Over a hundred years old, the lead weight was sharp as the day it was cast, all but untouched by age. Teardrop shaped, with tiny spurs curving up around the central point, it still showed the bloodstains from the last time its barbs had pierced Talia’s skin. Roudette could feel the magic of the fairy poison clinging to the metal, heating her palm. If she held it for too long, her skin would begin to blister.

According to the stories, Talia’s curse had affected everyone within the palace. Every animal had fallen, even the flies had dropped from the air, asleep. That curse had stood for one hundred years, unbreakable by blade or magic.

Roudette doubted her cape would be strong enough to protect her from such power. For a hundred years Aratheans had tried to penetrate the hedge and lift the curse of Sleeping Beauty. Even artifacts from the war between peri and deev had failed. But perhaps she would have a few extra moments before she joined Talia and the others in sleep. Time enough to ram her knife through Naghesh’s throat. She owed Talia that much.

And then she would finally rest and, with her, the Wild Hunt. The Kha’iida would arrive to find the hedge reborn, their enemies trapped. With one strike, Roudette would protect the world from the Hunt for the next hundred years.

The Kha’iida would remember. They would pass the story to their children and their grandchildren, how the Wild Hunt attacked their people, and how Red Hood and Sleeping Beauty worked together to capture the Hunt and their master. They would remember, and they would be waiting. When the hedge began to fall, they would find the Wild Hunt still sleeping. Queen Lakhim’s son had murdered Talia’s family in their sleep. The Kha’iida would do the same to the Hunt and to Zestan as well, ridding the world of their evil.

This was Roudette’s purpose. Her life. Queen Lakhim’s gold had gone to find the tip of the zaraq whip. From there she had bargained with Zestan and the Duchess. The fairy sprite was to bring her here, where she could trigger the curse and end it all. Charlotte had fought the sprite, and Snow had broken free of the fairy ring, but Roudette’s path had led her back.

Talia would understand. She might even thank Roudette for saving Arathea. She yanked Talia’s rope, hauling her close and keeping her between herself and the hunters.

Talia didn’t resist. Instead, she lunged back, her head smashing into Roudette’s nose. Roudette lost her grip on the rope. Instantly Talia was spinning away, hands swinging up to sweep Roudette’s arms aside.

“You tense before you strike,” Talia said, kicking Roudette in the chest. “Like a wolf preparing to charge. It’s a bad habit for an assassin.”

Talia snatched a knife from Roudette’s sheath. Roudette lunged again, but Talia was too damned quick. The knife slashed Roudette’s forearm. The zaraq weight fell to the sand. Roudette reached for it, and Talia slammed the pommel of the knife into Roudette’s throat. It was a blow that could have killed even the Lady of the Red Hood if she hadn’t seen it coming. She twisted, taking the impact on the side of the neck instead. It was still enough to send her staggering back.

“That’s enough!” Talia pressed the knife against her own throat. She was smiling, though Roudette could smell her fear. “It’s my turn to bargain. Where’s Zestan?”

Talia’s foot nudged the weight. Her gaze flicked downward, just long enough to identify it. Even that was almost enough time for the Hunt to strike. Two hunters leaped from their mounts, swords appearing in their hands as if by magic.

“I wouldn’t,” Talia said, turning to face them. “You’re fast enough to kill me, sure. Fast enough to disarm me before I use this? I think not.”

“What do you want, Princess?” Naghesh’s amusement grated. Roudette would have loved the chance to carve that fairy arrogance from her warty face.

Talia ignored her, speaking instead to Roudette. “That’s a zaraq weight,” she said, her voice soft. “That style hasn’t been used in a hundred years.”

“She meant to curse you again,” said Naghesh. “To curse us all.”

Talia’s anger was so strong Roudette could feel it from here, but there was something deeper there: understanding. Roudette wouldn’t have expected forgiveness, nor would she have accepted it, but she had known Talia would understand. In the face of her failure, she was surprised at the comfort that brought.

“It’s not too late,” said Roudette, hoping Talia would understand. Talia could grab the weight, close her fist around the barbs, and trigger the curse.

“I’m afraid it is,” said Naghesh. “My dear Talia. Even as a babe, your spirit held such fire. Almost fey, the way it burned. It’s one of the reasons our curse worked so well.”

Talia’s eyes narrowed.

“Roudette’s plan might have worked,” the troll continued. “The poison still clings to the metal. Zestan would have paid nicely for that little trinket. Instead, I’ve spent several years working to duplicate the poison.”

“It was hidden in Lakhim’s palace,” Roudette said, trying to keep Naghesh’s attention. “They were trying to develop a potion to reverse the effects, to protect themselves.” Lakhim believed it was the fairies who had broken into her home and stolen the weight.

“You could have earned the favor of the most powerful fairy in Arathea,” Naghesh said.

“Not interested.” What was Talia waiting for? Her arm was tense, her hand trembling, but she didn’t move.

Naghesh’s smile grew, exposing teeth like slabs of cracked ivory. “My magic flows through her limbs with every heartbeat. Limbs which obey my will, not hers.”

She stepped forward to retrieve the zaraq weight. To Talia, she said “You’re mine, child. As you’ve always been.”

Talia’s eyes found Roudette, pleading. Roudette gathered herself, calling on the wolf’s strength. She was too weak to fight Naghesh, but it would only take a single rush to reach Talia and shove the knife home.

An arrow slammed into Roudette’s thigh, burying itself to the fletching. A second struck her side. She crashed into Talia’s legs, knocking them both to the ground.

“Don’t kill her,” Naghesh shouted.

The knife had fallen away, out of reach. Roudette tried one last time, pulling herself along the ground toward Talia’s throat.

Naghesh’s staff cracked against the back of Roudette’s head, and she collapsed atop Talia. The hands of the Wild Hunt burned as they pulled her away.

“Take them both inside. Once we’ve learned the extent of Roudette’s betrayal, you may have her.”

Had she been stronger, Roudette might have felt dread at those words. Better a thousand deaths than to be made one of the Wild Hunt. But she had nothing left for dread. She had no thought for anything but her failure—and for the pouch she had torn from Talia’s belt.

As the hunters dragged her through the broken remains of the palace wall, she dropped the pouch into the rubble.

Her last thought was that maybe she would be lucky enough to bleed to death before the Hunt took her, and then everything went white.

 

Snow pushed her nose out of the pouch, whiskers twitching nervously.

Strange to hear Danielle’s voice in her mind. This must be what animals heard when Danielle spoke to them. Snow wasn’t sure what to make of it, though she found herself strangely pleased that her shapeshifting magic worked well enough for her to hear Danielle’s gift. It would have been far more convenient, however, if Snow had been able to respond in kind.

Two hunters were dragging Roudette into the palace. Snow couldn’t tell whether she was dead or simply unconscious. The ghosts remained, though they had faded until they appeared little more than man-shaped mist. Naghesh and Talia were walking this way.

Snow squeezed out of the pouch and crawled into the darkness between the fallen stones. Danielle followed a moment later. They waited in the shadows, watching as Naghesh entered the palace.

Naghesh stopped to pick up the pouch. She turned it over, frowned, and tucked it into her belt.

Talia followed without any sign of resistance. Snow had never been able to sense Talia’s fairy curse, though she knew some fairies were able to do so. But now the tingle of magic was so strong it penetrated her skin, making her very bones itch. If that weren’t enough, when she looked at Talia’s shadow in the moonlight, she saw Naghesh’s form outlined in the darkness. Talia was completely in Naghesh’s power.