Red Hood's Revenge (13 page)

This wasn’t the first time Danielle had faced death, but rarely had it felt so
casual
. Roudette killed without a thought, disposing of anyone with the ill fortune to get between her and her target. “Roudette is bound by Snow’s magic. She’ll return with us to Lorindar, and she will pay for what she’s done.”

“When?” asked Armand. “I can send Captain Hephyra and the
Phillipa
to wait for you. If you’re in Jahrasima, that puts you in the central region of northern Arathea. You’ll have to make your way to—”

“There’s more.” Danielle told him what they had learned about Zestan-e-Jheg and Talia’s fairy curse.

Armand’s image grew as he brought his mirror closer. “Your friend Talia is under sentence of death. By Arathean law, anyone who aids a murderer shares in that person’s guilt. If Talia is caught, you could all be executed.” He spoke in a whisper, trying to keep Jakob from overhearing.

“What would you have me do?” Danielle asked. “Turn my back on my friend and flee to Lorindar?”

“Yes!” He sighed. “And I know you won’t. Promise me you’ll be careful, love. Arathea sent an assassin to Lorindar. They want Talia badly enough to risk war. They won’t hesitate to kill you as well.”

“I promise,” Danielle said.

“Remember who you are. If anyone learns the Princess of Lorindar has directly involved herself in this conflict, the consequences could be far- reaching, and not just from Arathea.”

Danielle smiled. “I wasn’t planning to wander about in my crown and glass slippers.”

“Thus far, Arathea refuses to admit any knowledge of Roudette or her mission,” said Armand. “We will continue to press them. For now, please try not to start any wars while you’re there.”

“I’ll do my best. And I’ll be home as soon as I can.” She smiled as Armand handed his mirror to Jakob, and planted a loud kiss on the glass.

“I love you both,” she said, returning the kiss. When she pulled away, the glass showed only her reflection.

 

Under different circumstances, Talia might have felt guilty as she lowered the farmhand’s body into the mud. He would have a nasty headache when he awoke.

She crouched beside him, hiding behind the grain and counting slowly to herself as she waited to make sure nobody had heard. When she reached a count of twenty, she began stripping the man of his clothes. They were a little large, but that would work to her advantage. She pulled the trousers on over her own garments. The shirt followed, though she had to hack off the ends of the sleeves to keep her hands free. Smears of dirt and mud finished the job, turning her from a palace servant of Lorindar into another filthy peasant. It wouldn’t pass a close inspection, but hopefully nobody would pay that much attention.

She froze as one of the man’s companions passed by, whistling as he dredged the irrigation ditch a short distance away. Talia waited for him to pass, then dragged the body deeper into the field. She whispered into her bracelet, a twin to the one Danielle wore. “Snow, I’ve got a body for you to take care of.”

“Already?”

“I could dump him in the lake to drown, but Danielle would probably complain.” She yanked her sleeve down and made her way toward the road, easily avoiding the other farmhands.

Her entire body felt tight, braced against old memories as she stepped into the open. The damp earth changed to stone beneath her feet. The air was deliciously dry in her nostrils, carrying the sweet scent of freshly tilled earth. The crops wouldn’t be ready for months, but somehow the air smelled green and alive.

The roads into the city were built like wide stone walls cutting through the lake. Archways far below were said to allow the water to flow freely, but few humans were mad enough to dive in to find out for certain. Some said strange creatures inhabited the deeper water of the lake.

Like a fisherman’s hook, the smallest things drew remembrances from her past. The reeds growing along the edges of the path as she crossed the lake. The same swordlike fronds had grown in the pools back at her palace. As a child she had liked to play in the water, picking the waxy red teacup flowers for her mother.

The lake lapped the stones on either side of the road, reminding her of the last time she had walked this path. That had been at night, the starlight reflecting off the canals behind her.

She hadn’t planned to kill Prince Jihab. From the time she staggered out through the hedge, it had been as though some part of her still slept under the fairy curse. She stumbled through the following days in shock, not knowing from one day to the next whether this was real or a nightmare. Her family was gone, her sons’ cries echoed in her ears, and then Jihab and Lakhim had arrived to take them back to their palace.

How long would she have remained in that trance if Jihab hadn’t come to her bed that night, meaning to claim her once again? In a way, the stories were true. Prince Jihab
had
awakened her. Not with a kiss but by shocking her into action.

She remembered sneaking from the palace, climbing out the window, and making her way along the walls. She made it to the edge of town before the alarm bells began to ring. There she found a farmer preparing to transport cattle to Jahrasima, four days south. All the gold she had taken when she fled went to pay for her safe passage.

They were stopped three times on the way to Jahrasima, but nobody discovered her. Even with their prince dead, few soldiers were loyal enough to dig through a wagon full of cow dung to discover the girl huddled beneath, protected by a heavy canvas tarp and breathing through the cracks at the bottom of the wagon.

Talia shuddered. The putrid scent had lingered in her hair and skin for days, no matter how hard she scrubbed.

Blue light blossomed in the water beside her. Talia glanced down to see a glowing serpent swimming through the reeds. A jaan, a fairy creature who lived in the water. They were said to bring good fortune to those who fed them, but Talia had nothing to give.

She had never believed that superstition. More likely, feeding the jaan was a way to keep them trained. These creatures guarded the city gates as much as the uniformed men on the far side of the road. Anyone trying to swim across the lake would find himself surrounded by eager jaan, their glowing bodies illuminating the intruder for all to see.

Not that many people worried about the south road. This was the least traveled of the four roads, leading to the poorest part of Jahrasima. The gatehouse was in poor repair, as were most of the buildings beyond. Even from here Talia could see where one home had crumbled to the onslaught of time and overgrown grapevines.

Two men stepped out to meet her as she approached the gatehouse. Their armor was lighter than that worn by their counterparts in Lorindar. Arathean warriors valued speed and skill over protection, not to mention the toll heavy mail could take in the desert heat. One carried a short spear. The other held a war club, a short, slender weapon with a knobbed end. This was a northern design that could double as a spearthrower, carried by all those in service to Queen Lakhim.

Both wore green sashes marked with the royal crest. The white tiger was the symbol of Lakhim’s family. The small huma bird flying above the tiger had been the symbol of the crown for more than three hundred years. Lakhim hadn’t eliminated the huma bird from her crest, but she had diminished it to little more than an afterthought. The green mountains in the background represented the fairy race.

“What happened to you?” asked the one with the spear.

Talia licked her lip, still swollen from her fight with Roudette. “Wolf attack.”

The other moved closer. “Are you all right?”

“I will be.” Talia did her best to feign fear. “I need to get to the temple. My friends were hurt. One was mauled too badly to move.”

She shifted her balance, one hand ready to snatch a knife from her sleeve. Few had ever seen Sleeping Beauty in the flesh, but it never hurt to be prepared.

“What about the wolf?” asked the one with the war club. He sounded almost eager. Probably looking for something to break the tedium of guarding the poor quarter.

Talia shook her head. “It won’t bother anyone else.”

Her body remembered the route to the temple. She left the main road, taking a shortcut through an alley-way and around an old warehouse, finally emerging onto a road of broken stone. Weeds and vines pricked her legs, catching her trousers as she walked toward the low, nine-sided building at the end of the road.

A waist-high stone wall surrounded the temple grounds. The wall was in poor repair, little more than a symbolic barrier. Even from here Talia could smell the urine and decay of the sick and the dying.

Her heart drummed in her chest as she approached, following a dirt path through the open gate. Inside, the grounds were better tended. Red stone crunched beneath her feet. Fig trees grew to either side, straggly but alive. Smaller flowers and herbs grew at the base of the temple walls. Three younger girls in the black robes of the temple were tending the gardens. Talia smiled as she watched them, remembering a time when she had done the same.

An old woman with only one leg lay sleeping in the shade of a fig tree. A man with a splinted arm walked through the yard. He tilted his head in greeting, then coughed politely, drawing the attention of the gardeners to Talia.

One of the girls jumped to her feet. She hurried to the path, where she stopped to offer a half bow. “Welcome to the Temple of the Hedge. May you find peace and health within our walls.”

Both her words and her movements were careful and precise, as though she had to remind herself of the proper greeting. She couldn’t have been here more than a month.

“Thank you.” Talia’s mouth went dry as she looked about. She had tried not to think about what she might find when she arrived, but now that she was here, her palms were damp, and her heart was beating painfully hard. She swallowed and asked, “Is Sister Faziya available?”

The girl’s shoulders tensed. “I’m sorry. Faziya left the temple more than a month ago.”

Talia stared. Fairies could have razed Jahrasima to the ground, and it wouldn’t have struck Talia so hard. “I don’t understand. This was her home.”

“You were a friend of hers?” The girl cocked her head at Talia. “Your accent is strange. Where have you come from?”

From the entrance of the temple, an aged voice said, “Escort our visitor inside, Wijaq.”

Talia straightened at the sound. Mother Khardija’s voice was every bit as regal and commanding as a queen’s.

Mother Khardija stood in the wide rectangular entryway into the temple proper, her arms folded over her chest. She appeared unchanged, still dressed in the same faded robe Talia remembered, more gray than black now. Wrinkles covered her old face like cracked glazing, almost hiding the small blue thorn tattooed on her left cheek. Two ivory rods pinned her thin gray hair in a tight knot.

“She doesn’t appear sick, Mother,” said Wijaq.

“Are all ailments visible to your eye? After so little time in our company, can you diagnose the sick with a single glance?” The rasping voice sounded more amused than upset, though Wijaq was likely too new to recognize the difference. “Let the temple rejoice, for none have ever before come to us with such a gift. From this day forward, let this place be known as the Temple of Wijaq.”

Wijaq bowed low, her face dark. Two other girls giggled behind her, the sound cut short by a glare from Mother Khardija.

“Forgive me,” said Wijaq.

“Don’t worry,” Talia whispered, trying not to smile. “Mother Khardija used to say far worse to me when I wore the black robe.”

“Not that you ever listened.” Khardija beckoned Talia closer.

Talia hurried up the path. She had forgotten Mother Khardija’s preternatural hearing. The woman could hear a patient coughing—or an acolyte gossiping—from the other side of the temple.

Khardija put her hands on Talia’s shoulders and pulled her close. “You should not have come here,” she said softly. “Jahrasima isn’t safe.”

“This wasn’t a planned visit, Mother Khardija.” Talia awkwardly returned the embrace. “The girl out front told me Faziya left the temple. I don’t understand. Why—”

“Arathea has been troubled in recent times.” Khardija kissed her forehead, then stepped back. “Faziya . . . she believed she could best serve elsewhere.”

“Faziya was the most devoted sister I ever met.”

“We can talk of this later. You need food and rest.”

“Thank you,” said Talia. “We’ll be away as soon as we can. My friends—”

“Nonsense. You and your friends will stay as long as you need, and we will keep you safe, as before.” Khardija stepped back, glancing around to make sure nobody was nearby. “I knew you would return to us, but I wondered if I would live long enough to see it. Your time is soon, Princess.”

Talia pulled away. “My time?”

“To overthrow Queen Lakhim and reclaim your family’s throne,” said Khardija. “To take your place as ruler of Arathea.”