Red Hood's Revenge (36 page)

How long before the Kha’iida find us?
Danielle asked.

Turz should already know their location, but it would take time for the Kha’iida to reach Lakhim. It would take longer still for Lakhim to gather enough men to attack, no matter how fast her magic horse was. They couldn’t afford to wait. Snow shook her head, exaggerating the motion the best she could as a mouse.

Snow sat back on her hind legs. If Danielle tried to call a bird to take them away from here, Snow was going to bite her on the tail.

I think she even believed me.
Danielle began making her way along the rubble of the wall, into the palace.
She’s getting far too trusting.

A long marble walkway led into the palace, though most of the stones were cracked and uneven. It appeared as though a colonnade had once bordered the walk. Broken columns edged the path like rotted stumps, and fallen pillars of jade- flecked stone provided cover as Snow and Danielle ran toward the palace.

The stairs leading to the main entrance were broken and sunken. Statues of old Arathean kings guarded the doorway. Dead vines clung to the stone, obscuring the statues’ features. Inside was a wide hallway, curving away on either side. Moonlight shone through high, circular windows, as well as through gaps where the ceiling had collapsed.

Snow’s ears twitched. She could hear footsteps to the right, walking away from them. They were taking Roudette and Talia into one of the wings of the palace.

Sand covered the hallway. Broken tiles littered the floor near the walls where old mosaics had crumbled away, leaving only the occasional blotch of color. Cool, pungent air wafted over her.

She felt the ghosts before she saw them. Three princes guarded the doorway up ahead. Snow froze, eyes wide. As a mouse, her heart was beating so quickly it felt like a bumblebee buzzing in her chest.

Will they care about a couple of mice?
Danielle asked.

Mice weren’t built to shrug. Snow crept forward.

She made no sound, but one of the princes glanced down as she approached. A short spear appeared in his hands. Snow wasn’t certain what a ghost’s weapon might do to a living creature, but Zestan wouldn’t have used them if they were ineffective.

The prince strode toward her. Snow backed away, but he kept coming. The other two watched, but they didn’t leave the doorway.

Snow fled. She slowed only long enough to make sure Danielle was with her.

A grand spiral staircase was built into the inner wall of the hall, descending to the lower level of the palace. Snow jumped through the railing, letting out a shrill cheep as she plummeted a short distance to the steps below. A short distance for a human being. As a mouse, the impact was enough to leave her stunned, even with the layer of sand cushioning her landing.

The sight of the ghost at the railing was enough to clear her mind. She and Danielle jumped down the stairs and ran into the darkness below.

The air was colder here. This would have been mostly storage and extra sleeping quarters for use during the hot summers. The walls were in better condition, though Snow could see cracks where vines and roots had broken through.

Snow led Danielle through the corridor, following the faint smell of water. She checked one doorway, then another, until she found what she was looking for: a narrow archway leading down another set of stairs.

A quick spell provided just enough light to keep from falling. These steps went at least two stories deep before reaching the ground. Once there, Snow eliminated her light and set to work restoring herself and Danielle to their natural shapes.

Her body began to shift, bones creaking into new positions, muscle stretching and re- forming. Snow stayed on her hands and knees, clenching her body until the worst had passed. Between the change and the pain of casting the spell, she felt like she would—

“Oh, no.” She managed two steps before vomiting. When she could move again, she pushed herself upright and leaned against the wall for support. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

“You’re getting better,” Danielle whispered. “That wasn’t nearly as painful as the last time you cast that spell on me.”

Snow smiled and unstrapped the small waterskin she had brought with her. “More importantly, I figured out how to transform us without leaving our belongings behind.” She rinsed and spat.

Silver light filled the top of the stairs. The prince peered down, spotting them despite the darkness.

Snow took another drink, then began weaving a web of magic within it. Her eyes watered as she worked her spell. She was used to the pain, but the vomiting was new. How much more could she push before her body couldn’t take it?

“What are you doing?”

Snow waved her to silence. The ghost was halfway down the stairs. He wore heavy armor, though the steel plates of his mail obviously hadn’t protected him from the hedge. Snow wondered how far he had gotten before the thorns pierced his armor.

He was close enough now for his light to illuminate Snow and Danielle. Danielle held her sword ready, and the prince raised his spear in response.

“Snow?” Danielle whispered.

“Almost ready.” Snow forced her attention back to the waterskin. Jaw clenched, she wove the final threads of the spell.

“Snow!”

Snow tossed the skin forward. The prince swung his spear as if to knock it away. Instead, the spear vanished from his hand.

The ghost tried to back away, but a trail of light bound him to the mouth of the skin. Even as water dribbled from the skin, it pulled the ghost inexorably back. Snow climbed onto the stairs and picked up the skin, filling it with her own magic and drawing the ghost inside. Moments later, Snow and Danielle were alone in the darkness.

“What did you do?” Danielle asked.

“Soul jar.” Snow folded the waterskin’s mouth shut and tied it tight. “Want a wet ghost?” She set the skin carefully on the floor beside the steps. “It won’t last for long. A few days if I’m lucky. I didn’t have time to do a proper job.”

She waited, but no more ghosts followed. She sat back on the steps and called sunlight from her mirrors, illuminating a broad cavern with a vaulted ceiling. Pillars stretched in endless rows, disappearing into the darkness. Toward the center, the floor changed from dirt to black glass.

“Is that water?” Danielle asked. “Where are we?”

Snow closed her eyes, then opened them again, willing her doubled vision to merge. It didn’t help. She stepped down and walked toward the water. “This is the cistern. There should be a hole somewhere overhead that they used to bring up the water.”

The floor sloped like a shallow bowl. When they reached the water, it came no higher than Snow’s ankles at the deepest point. The fact that any water at all remained after a hundred years was impressive. Snow suspected she would find magical protections worked into the pillars if she looked for them.

Instead, she used the water to wash her face and dampen her hair, slicking it back from her head. “There are too many ghosts.” She didn’t look at Danielle. “I’m not strong enough to get us past them all, not to mention the Wild Hunt.”

“It’s all right,” Danielle said. “Talia wouldn’t want you to kill yourself trying to save her.”

“I didn’t say we weren’t going to save her.” Snow sat down, resting her feet in the water. “We’re just going to have to be clever about it.”

S
NOW BRUSHED HER FINGERS OVER HER mirror and waited until Ambassador Trittibar became visible. He appeared to be on the northern wall, staring out at the ocean. “What are you moping about?”

Trittibar jumped. He spun around, searching until he spotted the small mirror hidden in the crenellations of the northwest tower. “Snow?”

Snow beamed. “Did you miss us?”

He stepped closer and folded his arms. “Do Theodore and Beatrice know about all of your mirrors?”

“You’re looking better.” His arm was bandaged, and his skin was pale. Tonight he was dressed even more garishly than usual, a sure sign of his improving health. That yellow and green shirt was more suited to a jester than to an ambassador. A former ambassador, rather. “If you have any ideas for banishing the Wild Hunt or controlling an army of ghosts, I’d love to hear them.”

“Ghosts too?” Trittibar stared. “You’ve been gone less than a week! I’ve found no answers for you regarding the Hunt, and now—”

“It’s not my fault!”

“It never is.”

“Trittibar, they have Talia.” Quickly as she could, she told him what had happened since arriving at the palace.

“The hedge was formed to hold its prey,” Trittibar said, playing with his beard as he thought. “If its magic was strong enough, it might have trapped these men even after death. Killing the hedge could weaken its hold over them.”

“The hedge is all but dead,” said Snow. “Nothing remains but dry, broken vines. The hedge might have held them, but Zestan controls them now.” She stopped. “Ghosts are . . .
simple
. They’re caricatures of who they were in life.”

“What does that mean?” Danielle asked.

Snow kissed the mirror. “Thank you, Trittibar! Go tell Beatrice what’s happening.” She slapped the mirror back onto her armband and started making her way back to the wall. She brightened her light, searching until she found a pipe built into the base of the wall. “The ghosts are princes of Arathea. They died trying to reach Sleeping Beauty. What do you think will happen if they realize she’s returned?”

Danielle stared. “I’m not sure.”

“Neither am I.” Snow dropped to the ground and peered into the pipe. It looked wide enough, though she could see where roots had cracked through the clay, and she wouldn’t be surprised to find spiders and other crawly things inside. Maybe Danielle should go first. “But whatever hold Zestan has over them, they
died
for Talia. I say we find out whether that’s strong enough to beat even deev magic.”

Danielle dropped to the ground and crawled into the pipe. “Where are we going?”

“This place is built in the old Arathean style,” Snow said as she followed. “The public gardens would have been behind the palace, but the royal family would also have a private garden in the center of the palace, complete with a pool. If I’m right, this pipe fed that pool.”

Snow allowed Danielle to move ahead, then stopped to massage her skull. The throbbing had made its way to the front of her head, behind her eyes, and it would only get worse from here. She envied Trittibar his ability to tap into the power of the fairy hill at Fairytown. Or she had before that ability had been severed.

Human magic came from the one who wielded it, and it always exacted a price. Snow’s mother used to sleep for days at a time after working particularly powerful magic, even with her mirror to help her.

Snow had always been able to ignore the warning signs. She cast spells almost as easily as a fairy. She might sneak an extra nap from time to time, and often she ate enough for two in order to regain her strength. But that was before the accident.

The pain wasn’t the true problem. Pain could be ignored, at least for a while. The danger was what could follow the pain. Sooner or later she would push too hard. If she was lucky, the effort would leave her unconscious and exhausted. If not . . .

She pushed such thoughts aside. Magic wasn’t a game for those expecting a long, peaceful life.

Snow sniffed the air. She couldn’t see the end of the pipe, but she could smell flowers on the far side. She slowed. “Deev prefer the underground.”

“What?”

Nothing could survive here without magic. The hedge had sucked the life from the land. Why would a deev waste magic on flowers? She twisted her head, looking back toward the cistern. The whole thing was one big cave, yet she had seen no sign of habitation. The sand on the steps had been undisturbed. “I’m not sure. This doesn’t feel right.”

She crawled on, extinguishing the light from her mirrors as they neared the end of the pipe. Metal bars blocked the end, but the pipe was so old and cracked that Danielle was able to yank them loose.

“Another ghost.” Danielle handed her own waterskin to Snow.

Snow did her best to repeat the spell she had used before. It took longer this time, and she turned away to keep Danielle from noticing the pain. Not that it helped.

“You need to rest.”

“Sure.” Snow wiped her face. “You think Zestan will agree to wait until we’ve napped to use Talia against Lakhim?” She finished the soul jar and shoved it back to Danielle. “Throw this at the ghost.”

Danielle did so, then crawled out into the moonlight. “I think it worked.”

Snow followed, finding herself in a broad, circular pool, long since dried. Old tiles clung to the sides. The edges of the pool were flat and broad, designed to be used as benches. Snow picked up the dribbling waterskin and tied it shut.