Red Hood's Revenge (2 page)

Danielle’s sword bounced against her left thigh as she joined her two closest friends. She hoped the sword would be unnecessary, but Queen Beatrice was rarely wrong about such things.

“Is everything prepared?” she asked as she reached the storeroom.

“I’m hurt you even have to ask.” Snow White’s voice was light and musical, almost childlike in her merriment. She had thrown back her own hood, allowing the breeze to play through her hair. Snow was younger than Danielle, though strands of white mixed with her night-black locks, the price of magic spells cast years ago. The moonlight accentuated the paleness of her face. Beneath her cloak she wore a white scarf and a fitted gown of blue linen that accentuated the curves of her body.

“We’ve been waiting nearly an hour. I was tempted to do this without you.” Dressed in a heavy cape over a rust-colored wool tunic, Talia Malak-el-Dahshat appeared to be the very model of a proper lady-in-waiting. She stood beside the storeroom wall, blending into the shadows. “They’re inside, where it’s warmer.”

“Don’t mind Talia,” Snow said. “You know how cranky she gets when she hasn’t pummeled anyone in a while.”

“I had to wait for Armand to fall asleep,” Danielle said. If the prince had known what she had been doing these past two nights, he never would have agreed to let her risk herself. Especially after Queen Beatrice’s warning of blood and death.

Snow grinned. “There are ways of helping a man sleep.”

“I don’t think the queen would let you cast a sleeping spell on her son,” Danielle said.

Snow blinked innocently. “Who said anything about spellcasting? Some magic even you can perform, Princess.”

Two years ago, such comments would have left Danielle red-faced and stammering. Now she simply raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I didn’t?” She turned to Talia, ignoring Snow’s choked laughter. “Please tell them I’m ready.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Talia moved with the grace of a hunting cat as she strode to the door. She made no sound, despite the arsenal she kept on her person. Even on a normal day, Talia carried at least three knives, a set of darts, a small whip, and several more exotic weapons. Tonight she could probably arm an entire squadron of the king’s guards.

The storeroom door opened without a sound, thanks to a liberal coating of oil Talia had applied three nights past. The smell of dust and straw wafted from within.

Talia was first through the door, searching the corners before stepping to the right. Snow followed, taking a position on the opposite side. Piles of straw filled the storeroom, rising nearly to the roof and leaving only a narrow pathway down the center. An old spinning wheel sat at the very back of the room. A small, covered lamp hung from the far wall, the blue flame dancing in the draft. The fairy-spelled light would burn nothing but oil, unlike a regular lantern, which could have set the entire room ablaze.

Standing near the back of the storeroom were a middle-aged man and a young girl. A fringe of unkempt brown hair circled the man’s otherwise bald scalp. He wore an oft-patched jacket and stained trousers tucked into old boots. He smelled of sweat and mud. The sole of one boot flopped loosely as he stepped forward and dropped to one knee. “Your Highness.”

The girl did her best to imitate the movement. Her brown dress was little better than sackcloth, and her limbs were like sticks. She looked no more than five years old, though Danielle knew she should have celebrated her seventh birthday two months earlier.

Danielle slipped a hand beneath her cloak, touching the hilt of her sword. The weapon was glass, the hilt inlaid with hazelwood. This weapon was the last gift she had received from her mother’s spirit. Like her slippers, the glass was all but unbreakable, and the hilt fit Danielle’s hand as if cast to her flesh. The touch of that gift helped to ease Danielle’s anger, and she even managed a smile as she greeted Lang Miller. She crouched before the girl, and this time her smile was genuine. “Hello again, Heather.”

Heather ducked her head, hiding behind tangled hair. “Hello.”

From a pocket of her gown, Danielle pulled a small, paper-wrapped pastry. She peeled back the paper, revealing a honey- glazed cake made with figs and almond milk. “I saved this from dinner. Prince Jakob likes them, and I thought you might too.”

Heather pounced, snatching the cake from Danielle’s hand. Lang cleared his throat, and Heather froze.

“My apologies, Your Highness,” said Lang. “We’ve gone too long without proper meals, and I’m afraid my daughter’s manners—”

“I understand.” Danielle nodded to Heather, who needed no further encouragement to stuff the cake into her mouth as though she feared someone would try to steal it. “She looks like she’s not had a proper meal in months.”

“Her powers take a great deal out of her, I’m afraid.” Lang rubbed a dirty hand through Heather’s hair.

“Given those powers, I have to ask why . . .” Danielle gestured at their ragged appearance.

Lang chuckled. “Forgive my boldness, but you were once a commoner yourself, were you not? Locked away in the attic to serve your stepsisters and stepmother. Your father was doubtless a good man, but he couldn’t shield you from—”

“Your point, Master Miller?” Danielle hadn’t meant to speak quite so sharply. Talia glanced back, eyes narrowed in warning.

“I can’t protect her from such people,” Lang said. “Nor can I buy her safety. For a poor miller to start flashing gold about would be a siren song to every thief and kidnapper in Lorindar. I’m a simple man, Your Highness. All I want is for my girl to be safe and happy. I can’t give her that, but you could.”

“You have my word I will do everything in my power to protect her.” Danielle forced a lighter tone. “Heather will be well cared for.”

“So we have a deal?” asked Lang. Behind him, Heather’s tongue darted out to lick the last few crumbs from her lips. She stared up at Danielle, brown eyes wide.

Danielle grabbed a handful of straw and squeezed, feeling the stalks crunch and break in her hands. “The first night I suspected trickery. The second, I began to believe.” She gestured to Snow and Talia. “My servants have inspected every corner of this room. If your child can work her magic a third time, then we have an agreement.”

“You hear that, Heather?” Lang knelt and squeezed the girl’s shoulders. “Spin straw into gold again tonight, and you’ll never go hungry again. Princess Cinderella here will take care of you, and when you’re old enough, you’ll marry her son, Prince Jakob. You’ll grow up to be Queen of Lorindar!”

Heather’s expression didn’t change. Her gaze was empty, almost bored. Either she didn’t understand or else she didn’t care. She sucked her fingers and trudged toward the spinning wheel.

“We’ll hold a public betrothal tomorrow,” Danielle said. “When Jakob reaches thirteen years of age, they shall be wed.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Lang took Heather by the hand and whispered into her ear, then backed away. “Come morning, my darling girl will have filled this room with gold. Lorindar will soon be the richest nation in the Arantine Ocean.”

Danielle said nothing as she led Lang and the others from the storeroom. Talia pulled the door shut behind them, leaving Heather to her work.

“Snow will find you a place to sleep,” Danielle said.

“Thank you.” Lang rubbed his throat. “I don’t suppose I could trouble one of you ladies for something to drink? All that straw and dust is murderous harsh on the throat.”

“Of course.” Danielle was still watching Snow, whose brow was slightly furrowed.

Snow studied the storeroom, almost as if she could see through the wooden walls. Slowly, she smiled. With one hand she tugged her scarf free, revealing the shine of silvered glass from her choker.

At that signal, Danielle spun so abruptly that Lang almost walked into her. Forcing herself to relax, she said, “Before we retire, I would like to watch your daughter work, to observe this miracle for myself.”

Lang flashed crooked teeth. “I wish you could, but to view such magic is to rob it of its power. I stole a peek myself the first time she told me of her gifts. The gold vanished in an instant, swept away like sweets before a glutton. The shock of Heather’s broken magic left the poor girl abed for days. Don’t you worry, though. How she does it matters less than the results, eh? Those results will fill your treasury for years to come.”

Talia’s stance changed so subtly most people wouldn’t have noticed. Knees bent, one foot slightly forward, her eyes never leaving Lang Miller. Her hands remained tucked into her sleeves, where Heaven only knew what weaponry awaited.

Snow finished unwrapping her scarf. A choker of oval mirrors and gold wire circled her throat. Lang’s smile faltered slightly at the sight. He might not recognize the power of Snow’s mirrors, but he knew such decoration was unusual for a simple palace servant.

“Years, you say?” Snow tossed the scarf to the ground and reached into a pouch at her belt, pulling out a piece of straw. “Strange. Most fairy glamours fade within a week at most.” She snapped the straw between her fingers and flicked it to the ground.

“Glamour, you say?” Lang’s grin tightened as he watched the straw fall. So intent was his gaze that he failed to notice Talia slipping up behind him until her arm snaked around his neck, pressing the tip of a curved Arathean dagger to his throat. His eyes went round, and a faint squeak escaped his lips.

Danielle winced as a thread of blood welled and dripped down Lang’s neck. Despite Queen Beatrice’s warnings, Danielle intended to do this without bloodshed if she could. “Easy, Talia. We want them alive.”

Talia snorted. “Alive and unharmed are two very different things.”

“If it’s fairy magic, I’m as much the victim as yourself,” Lang stammered. “Perhaps the fair folk left a changeling in my daughter’s bed. She
has
been behaving most strangely of late, not talking to anyone, refusing food until she starts to waste away—”

“If that’s true, then you’ve nothing to fear.” Danielle pushed her cloak back from her shoulders, revealing the sword at her side. The blade slid soundlessly from the leather sheath.

“What’s this?” Lang raised his hands. “You’re not trying to rob me of my prize, are you?”

“Your
prize
?” Danielle turned, her voice soft. It was a tone that would have sent her son fleeing in fear, but Lang didn’t know her well enough to recognize the signs of her fury. He would learn soon enough. “I wonder what her parents would say to hear her described so. Shall we ask them, Lang Miller?”

“My daughter—” Lang’s voice turned to a squeak as Talia jerked him around to face the door. He turned his head, trying to pull away from the knife. “What magic—”

“Snow’s spells won’t harm Heather,” Danielle said. “Her magic will simply ensure that nobody can leave this room by magical means.”

“I spent half a day preparing,” Snow said cheerfully, moving toward the door. “You’re right about the straw, by the way. Nasty stuff.”

“Remain silent.” Danielle readied her sword and nodded.

Snow yanked open the door.

Inside, Heather sat playing in the straw. Behind her, a tiny man dressed in red sat at the spinning wheel. Had he been standing, his feathered cap would have barely reached Danielle’s midsection. Gold straw tangled the white mane of his hair.

He cried out, jumped to the ground, and clapped his hands together.

Nothing happened.

“That won’t work.” Snow beamed. “The wards are similar to those on the palace wall, the ones that prevent anyone from using magic to enter the grounds. I removed those three nights ago, just for you.”

“Rumpelstilzchen?” Danielle rested the tip of her sword on the dirt floor. “Also known as Tom Tit Tot, Whuppity Stoori—”

Rumpelstilzchen covered his ears. “Stop it! What demons whispered those names in your ear, lady?” Spying Lang beyond the door, he hopped up and down, fists clenched. “Lang Miller, you ungrateful traitor!”

“Actually, I’m the demon who learned what you really are,” Snow said brightly. “With some help from Ambassador Trittibar of Fairytown.”

“Don’t blame me for this mess, you miserable dwarf!” Lang shouted. “You’re the one who said Lorindar would be an easy target! I told you we shouldn’t have come here!” With those words, Lang seized Talia’s wrist with both hands, forcing her knife back. He twisted free of her hold and swung a fist at her.

Danielle winced as Talia ducked easily beneath Lang’s punch. In the same movement, Talia stepped close and drove an elbow into his stomach. Danielle winced again.

Shortly after Talia’s birth, the fairies of Arathea had blessed her with various “gifts,” including superhuman grace and the ability to dance like an angel. Such skill and grace had helped her to become the deadliest warrior Danielle had ever known.

“Never tell the prisoner you want him alive,” Talia said, following up with a kick to Lang’s knee. “It makes them overconfident.”

“Sorry.” Danielle rested both hands on her sword. “Tell me, Rumpelstilzchen, how many children have you stolen over the years?”

He watched Snow and Danielle warily. “The boy’s right. I should have known better than to set foot on this isle. Your people and your damned treaty, shackling fairykind like dogs.”

“
We
shackle
you
?” Danielle looked pointedly at Heather, who continued to play in the straw, oblivious to everything going on around her.

“She’s happy,” he insisted. “Free of worry or woe.”

“With no memory of who she was.” Danielle raised her sword. “Victim of the same spell you meant to cast upon
my son
, robbing him of his memories before you stole him away.”

“I rescue them from lives of mortal drudgery!” He clapped his hands again, then scowled at the walls.

“A gnomish friend taught me how to block summoning magic,” Snow said. “He was much better at it than you. Better looking, too, with a much longer beard.”