Red Hood's Revenge (30 page)

“Look at her.” Snow’s sleeve flapped as she jabbed a hand at Talia and Faziya. “They’re as bad as you and Armand used to be, back before you had Jakob and you turned boring.”

“Boring?” Danielle stared, trying to gauge whether Snow was joking. “We’re not—”

“The first night the two of you met, you danced until midnight. When was the last time you stayed awake that late? Between tending to Jakob, working with your tutors, and taking over Beatrice’s responsibilities around the palace, how often do you and Armand exchange more than a tired peck on the cheek before crawling into bed?”

“You’re trying to change the subject,” Danielle said.

Narrowed eyes scowled at Danielle. “Between you huddling over that mirror, whispering to Armand and Jakob every time we stop, and Talia making out with Faziya all night long—”

“Really?” Danielle asked. “The whole night?”

Snow looked heavenward. “I exaggerate. You should know that by now.” She sighed. “I’m not used to being the one without anything warm to press up against at night.”

“You poor thing. A whole day in Arathea, and you haven’t met anyone? I suppose you could always ask Roudette.”

“Don’t make me curse you.”

Snow’s tone was playful, but Danielle could hear something more beneath the words. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Snow shook her head. “Not exactly. I know how Talia feels about me. For more than a year, I’ve wished I didn’t. I know how to deal with a man who wants me, how to take one I want or get rid of one I don’t, but with Talia, everything’s different. She’s my friend. I should be relieved she’s found someone, for my sake and for hers.”

“You’re not relieved?” Danielle asked carefully.

“Oh, I am.” Snow laughed. “But look at them. I miss that feeling. I haven’t had that since Roland died. I would have married that man, you know. If my mother hadn’t killed him.”

“I’m sorry,” Danielle said. Snow never really talked about the man her mother had hired to cut out her heart. Instead of killing her, Roland had fallen in love with Snow’s beauty. He had brought a deer heart to Queen Rose in order to protect Snow’s life, but eventually Rose discovered his deception and murdered him in front of Snow. “I never imagined you starting a family.”

“Oh, gods, no!” Snow laughed again. “Marriage is one thing, but children? I’ve seen the trouble Jakob gets into. I’d have turned that boy into a frog long ago.” She sighed. “It would be nice to feel love like that again, though.”

“Give it time,” Danielle said. “You can’t force love.”

“Speak for yourself.” Snow withdrew her hands from her sleeves and waggled her fingers. Tiny sparks danced from her nails. “There are four popular recipes for love potions, and at least a dozen more obscure formulas. The most common last only a short time, but with the right ingredients—mermaid blood being one of the best—you can—”

“Just promise me you won’t enchant any of the Kha’iida once we reach this oasis,” Danielle said, laughing despite herself.

“I don’t have the right equipment for potion making anyway,” Snow said. Danielle could hear the smile in her voice. “Of course, there are
other
kinds of enchantments.”

 

After three days, they were down to a single waterskin. Even with Talia slipping away each morning before Faziya awoke, gathering the dew that collected on the leaves, it would be a close thing whether they reached the Kha’iida in time. If Faziya was wrong about where her tribe should be this time of year . . . she tried not to think about that.

Each night Roudette’s wolves kept watch over the group, and Talia kept watch over Faziya. Faziya still didn’t use her left arm at all, keeping it bandaged tightly against her body. Snow had said little, beyond checking the wound twice each day. Faziya claimed she was starting to feel stronger, and the pain wasn’t as bad.

Talia didn’t believe her. She heard how Faziya groaned in her sleep. She saw the tightening of her body whenever the horse jostled her. Faziya needed better food and rest if she was going to recover.

Nighttime also brought the sounds of the Wild Hunt. The howls had been fainter last night, but Talia worried about what might await them at hai’ir tel. If Rajil knew which tribe Faziya belonged to . . . but few city- dwellers paid much attention to the Kha’iida tribes, save for those times the Kha’iida came to the edges of the cities to trade.

Shade and shelter were harder to come by now. They had left the rocky, scrub-dotted land behind, entering a stretch of what the Kha’iida called qa rablakh, the sea of sand. Last night they had ridden far later than Talia liked before finding a patch of hard sand between two dunes. Roudette had dug a pit while Talia had spread their robes and blankets to rig a crude tent. A layer of sand over the top had helped it to blend into the landscape, but she had spent the entire night on edge, trying to imagine how they would escape if the Hunt found them.

The desert stretched as far as she could see in all directions. Her horse’s hooves sank into rippled sand with each step. For the past day, the only plants had been little more than bare sticks and thorny stumps poking through the sand. “How long until we reach the valley?”

Faziya inhaled. “We’re getting close.”

“How can you tell?” asked Talia.

“Can’t you smell the water?” Faziya laughed. “You city-dwellers are so soft. So civilized. You wouldn’t last a month in the desert.”

“Says the woman who’d fall off her horse without help,” Talia answered, keeping her arm wrapped around Faziya’s waist. “I thought you desert barbarians were supposed to be tough.”

Faziya leaned her head against Talia’s shoulder. “Tough enough to put up with
you
.”

Talia kissed her head, conceding the point. “What sort of welcome should we expect at hai’ir tel? You’ve never spoken about why you left.”

Faziya tensed. “I’m not sure. Oath before family. Family before tribe. Tribe before country. Country before self. When I left, I put myself before the rest.”

Snow glanced over. “Is she saying we might not be welcome? That would have been good to know three days ago.”

“Oh, no,” said Faziya. “
You
will be welcome. ‘None may turn away a stranger in the desert.’ You will be given water and shelter for three days.”

“What about you?” Talia asked.

Faziya flicked her fingers, a dismissive motion that passed as a shrug. “If I’m fortunate, I’ll be treated as a stranger.”

The sound of hoofbeats changed, becoming more solid. The land sloped gradually upward here, and more plants had begun to appear. Talia spotted a bush with red-tipped buds that made her think of paintbrushes dipped in blood. A small lizard sunned himself on one of the branches.

“Beyond that hill,” Faziya’s hand tightened on Talia’s leg.

“I just hope they can give us separate tents,” Snow said. “If I have to listen to Roudette chasing rabbits in her sleep again, I’ll go mad.”

Roudette had already crested the hill up ahead. She trotted back down a short way and began to remove the wolfskin.

“Oath before family,” Talia repeated, taking Faziya’s hand in hers. “Whatever happened, you followed that rule. Zestan is deev. That’s more important than anything else.”

“If they believe us,” Faziya said.

Talia tugged the reins with her free hand, guiding the horse uphill toward Roudette. “I’ll make them believe.”

By the time they reached the top of the hill, Roudette was human once more. She stood unmoving as the others joined her. “There’s fairy scent, but it’s old. The Wild Hunt probably passed through here a while back. Nothing recent.”

Below them lay a wide, shallow valley. A pond stretched through the center, rimmed by trees and waist-high grass as green as any garden. A flock of sheep had spread through the valley to graze. Camels gathered near a second, smaller pond farther away. Black rectangular tents were laid out in parallel rows, facing east. Talia guessed there were at least a hundred. Horses were tied between many of the tents.

Talia unwrapped her scarf to show her face, leaving the top of her head covered. The air felt almost cool on her cheeks after so long riding. To the others, she said, “It’s impolite to enter a stranger’s home with your identity hidden.”

She waited while Snow and Danielle did the same. Roudette pushed back her hood.

Several dogs broke away from the sheep and ran toward them, barking madly. Danielle closed her eyes, whispering until they calmed.

“Are you ready?” Talia asked.

“Does it matter?” Faziya forced a smile. “Whatever happens, thank you for saving me from Rajil’s garden.”

By the time they reached the base of the hill, a small crowd had gathered to greet them. The Kha’iida stared openly at the newcomers, paying as much attention to Faziya as they did the paler strangers. Talia heard Faziya’s name whispered more than once.

Most of the Kha’iida wore two robes, a pale robe wrapped tight at the waist, and a second, looser one over the top. Sandals were common, though Talia saw several adults in boots. Many of the children were barefoot.

The men’s robes were dark yellow, similar in color to the sand. The women’s were darker in color, some decorated with embroidery and brocade. Men and women alike wore jewelry of silver and copper, mostly rings.

A man wearing an emerald belt stepped forward. Talia dismounted from her horse, then reached up to help Faziya.

“His name is Muhazil,” Faziya whispered. “He leads the tribe.”

Talia stepped forward to greet him. Muhazil’s sun-baked skin was a deep brown, and his forehead furrowed as he looked from Talia to her companions. His hair was braided in plaits that trailed from his head scarf down his chest, and his beard was an equal mix of black and white.

“Peace to you and your family,” Talia said, bowing at the waist.

Muhazil returned the bow. “And to yours. What brings massim this far into the desert?”

Massim
, not the more derogatory
varahn
. Neither term was a complimentary one for city-dwellers, but at least he wasn’t openly insulting them. “We ask for water to quench our thirst and shelter from the desert sun.”

“I am Muhazil Yidab-ud-Ahra. You and your friends are welcome in my tent.”

“Did he say his tent?” Snow leaned forward. “Is he asking us to—”

“No.” Talia swatted Snow’s shoulder without looking. “Thank you, Muhazil.”

“Perhaps you would do us the pleasure of sharing your story?” he asked, the closest a Kha’iida would come to asking strangers why they had traveled so far from home.

“Is there a place you and I could talk privately?” Talia asked.

Muhazil turned and touched a finger to his lips. At this signal, a younger boy ran back toward the tents. “My grandson Lazhan will see to your friends’ needs while we speak.” He turned his back and walked away.

Talia fought a rush of anger. She had been too long in Lorindar, where turning your back was a sign of disdain rather than trust. To Danielle, she said, “You’ll be safe here. Nobody tell them anything until I’ve had the chance to discuss things with Muhazil. Try to keep Roudette from snacking on their herd. Kha’iida hospitality only extends so far.”

Faziya started to follow the others, but Talia caught her hand. “I need you with me.”

“Muhazil won’t like it,” Faziya warned.

“I don’t care. We need their help, and Muhazil needs to hear what you’ve learned.”

Muhazil led them to a large tent near the center of the camp. The tents were spread far enough apart to allow individuals to pass between them without tripping over the lines, so long as they were careful. Talia kept one arm around Faziya’s waist for support. Faziya was steadier than she had been three days ago, but a fall could still tear the stitches and start her bleeding again.

The front and back walls of most tents were tied open, allowing the air to circulate. Muhazil’s tent was partitioned into two rooms, both of which were larger than Talia’s chambers back home. Back in Lorindar, she corrected.

He brought them into the room on the left. Iron chimes hanging from the central pole rang softly as they entered. Overlapping rugs covered the ground, woven in intricate patterns of red, gold, and blue. Sleeping mats lined the edges of the tent. Each had been folded lengthwise and propped up to form low, makeshift couches.

Muhazil crouched at a small fire circle in the center of the room. He blew embers into flame, adding a small pile of tinder and what looked like dried dung.

Talia started to speak, but Faziya tugged her toward one of the mats, which was surprisingly firm. Like the tent, the mats were woven of goat wool, and each was decorated in a different pattern. This one was dyed in stripes of blue and purple. The bright colors of the Kha’iida camp were refreshing after her time in Jahrasima and the desert.

Talia waited impatiently as Muhazil prepared drinks. He dipped water from a basin into a small pot, which he set directly on the embers. He opened a small chest and pulled out a plain linen sack. The smell of coffee soon suffused the tent. Humming, he grabbed a handful of crushed beans and tossed them into the water.

Despite herself, Talia smiled. “I haven’t tasted real coffee since I was a child. Even then, my parents wouldn’t let me drink much.”

“Why not?” Muhazil asked. “Coffee is good for the body and the spirit.”

Talia smiled wryly. “They feared it would keep me from sleeping.”

Faziya squeezed her hand. They waited in silence as Muhazil finished brewing the coffee. He poured for Talia first, handing her a porcelain cup lined with silver. She blew once and took a sip. The taste was more bitter than she remembered, but the saffron aftertaste drew a contented sigh from her lips.

Faziya’s hand shook as she accepted her own cup. She took a small sip, then set the cup on the mat. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t drink much while my body is recovering.”