Red Hood's Revenge (4 page)

“That’s awful,” Danielle said, laughing. “Even for you.”

Trittibar glanced down at himself. “The toenails are too much, aren’t they?”

“Can your people even
see
color?” Danielle asked.

“Better than yours, in most cases.” He brushed his beard, clinking the beads. “Why you humans insist on dressing so blandly I’ll never know.”

He spread his arms to embrace Danielle. The fairy had a pleasantly earthen smell. He backed away and switched to a more formal tone. “On behalf of my lord and lady, I thank you.”

“Thank
you
,” Danielle said. “You were the one to spread the rumors of our financial need, and to make sure word of Prince Jakob reached Rumpelstilzchen.”

Talia sniffed. “If your lord and lady truly wanted to help, why didn’t they hunt the bastard down themselves? How many years has he been running this con? How many more children would he have stolen if Beatrice and Danielle hadn’t planned this trap?”

“A trap that would have failed without our assistance,” Trittibar pointed out.

“What assistance?” asked Talia. “I didn’t see you there last night.”

“Rumpelstilzchen is not of Fairytown. We have no responsibility or authority to—”

“Stop this,” Beatrice said mildly. She stepped over to embrace Talia, cutting off the debate. “You know as well as I that Rumpelstilzchen might have sensed another fairy. His presence could have undone all of our efforts.”

Talia grunted but didn’t press the matter.

Though Beatrice tried to hide it, a gasp of pain escaped her lips as she lowered herself back to the bench. “Rumpelstilzchen and his partner are on their way to the docks. Lyskar is sending an escort for Hevanna.”

“What about Lang?” Danielle asked. “Did Snow ever learn his true name?”

Beatrice bowed her head. “Lang Miller
was
his true name. He was under no spell. He helped Rumpelstilzchen of his own free will.”

“Lang was stolen from his parents,” Danielle protested. “How could he help to take other children—”

“Lang was stolen as a babe,” said Beatrice. “Rumpelstilzchen was the only family he ever knew.”

“He still had a choice,” Talia snapped. “Look at Snow. Raised by a woman so evil she hired a man to cut out her own daughter’s heart. Snow turned out all right. More or less.”

“Don’t underestimate the allure of fairy magic,” Beatrice said, gazing into the distance. “They can tempt even the most chaste.”

Trittibar cleared his throat. “For that reason, perhaps it would be best if Rumpelstilzchen were turned over to my people. I was telling your queen how he’s been a blight upon our honor, and I can give you my word he would never again trouble another mortal.”

Beatrice shook her head, though she was smiling. “And I was telling Trittibar that if Fairytown wanted Rumpelstilzchen for themselves, they would need to negotiate with Lyskar.” She turned back to Danielle. “You’re certain you retrieved all of the children? None of them were harmed?”

“He gave his word.” Danielle’s fists dug into the folds of her gown. “Some spoke languages even Snow didn’t recognize. I’ve asked Nicolette to see to their needs.”

“They’ve been away from this realm a long time,” Trittibar said. “Mortal food will help, as will the passage of time, though the older ones may never fully adjust.”

The queen frowned. “When Rumpelstilzchen and Lang were taken alive, I thought perhaps the death I had dreamed was one of the children.”

Danielle sat down on the bench in front of Beatrice. “For some of them, death might have been kinder.” There had been a Hiladi boy, older than most, who had done nothing but hold his knees and rock, mumbling in a simple singsong. Another girl had screamed herself hoarse, ripping the clothes from her body and gouging her skin until Snow finally cast a spell to make her sleep.

Beatrice took Danielle’s hand. “We’ll do everything we can for them. You did well, Princess.”

For a moment, Beatrice’s praise made Danielle feel like a child again, basking in her mother’s smile.

The chapel door swung inward and Snow rushed inside, stuffing the last of a muffin into her mouth as she hurried toward them.

“I’m glad you’re here,” said Beatrice. “I spoke to Lyskar this morning by crystal. The queen asked me to pass along their gratitude to each of you.” She smiled. “Once she finally accepted I was telling her the truth, that is. This should strengthen ties between our nations for many years to come. More importantly, Alynn and Francon will have their little girl back.”

“Has Heather—Hevanna—woken yet?” Danielle asked. “I’m sure her parents will want to speak with her.”

“Not yet,” said Snow. “A few of the children have been running wild, but most were exhausted.”

“She’s slept a long time.” Danielle, glanced at the open door. She hadn’t checked on the children since last night. “Are you sure the spell hasn’t—”

“I checked in on them myself earlier this morning,” said Trittibar. “I promise you Hevanna will recover. In time, most of her experiences will fade like a bad dream.”

Danielle’s response went unspoken as a boy in the green cap and jacket of a royal page burst into the chapel. His footsteps echoed against the stone as he ran, a small wooden box clutched in his hands. Beatrice stood, her face tight with pain and something more.

“What’s wrong, Andrew?” Danielle asked.

“The carriage . . . the prisoners.” Andrew tucked the box under one arm and used his sleeve to blot sweat from his young face. His cheeks were flushed, and he struggled to catch his breath. “They were attacked. Less than an hour ago.”

Talia was already moving toward the door. There should be no danger here, but Talia wasn’t one for taking chances. She checked outside, then pulled the door closed.

“How did it happen?” asked Beatrice. Her voice was calm and commanding. She sounded almost like her old self.

“Nobody saw who did it,” said Andrew.

“Impossible.” Talia stopped behind Andrew, arms crossed. “The road switchbacks down the hillside, in plain view of the docks.”

Andrew backed away. “Whoever it was, he must have been hiding in the bushes beside the road. The dock-workers heard the screams, but by the time they arrived, it was over.”

“Did anyone survive?” Danielle asked.

“I’m sorry, Highness.”

Danielle fought to keep her face composed. She knew everyone in the palace by name, but the carriage had left while she was still asleep. Who had been driving, and which of the guards had accompanied them? Which of her friends had died today?

Beatrice closed her eyes. “They died violently.” It wasn’t a question.

“They found this with . . . with the bodies.” Andrew held out the box.

Carved in crude letters on the lid was the name
Danielle de Glas
. Danielle’s name from before she married Armand. She reached out, but Talia was faster, snatching it from Andrew’s hand. She held the box to the light, examining the hinges, then turning it about to study the latch, a simple iron hook through a small loop.

The box appeared plain enough, made of unfinished wood and hammered iron. It was no wider than Danielle’s hand.

Snow’s choker brightened slightly. “I don’t see any magical traps.”

Talia set the box on a bench and dropped to one knee. A knife appeared in her hand, and she used the blade to unfasten the catch. The tip of the knife slowly raised the lid to reveal a folded note sealed with red wax. Talia opened the lid, scooped out the note with her knife, then swore.

“What’s wrong?” Danielle asked.

Talia turned the box so they could see the severed toe, barely larger than a cashew, sitting on a velvet cushion. She cracked the seal and unfolded the note, then passed it to Danielle. Brown bloodstains marred the corner of the page.

The handwriting was beautiful, every loop and whorl drawn precisely in brown ink. Danielle read the note a second time before passing it to Beatrice.

“What is it, Your Highness?” Andrew whispered.

Danielle barely heard. It was more than two years since she had left Charlotte behind in Fairytown. She still prayed for her stepsister some nights, but for the most part she had tried to push those memories from her mind. It was a part of her life she preferred not to think about.

She remembered the cooing of the doves at her wedding. The birds had lined the eaves of the palace, while the rats watched hidden in the grass. Her only friends, come to celebrate as she and Armand were presented to the crowd.

The doves had swooped down, attacking her stepmother and stepsisters. They blinded her stepmother, who eventually died from her injuries. Charlotte and Stacia survived, but the attack left them both scarred.

Danielle grimaced as she examined the toe. The skin was wrinkled, the nail ragged and yellow.

Her stepsisters had conspired to kidnap Armand and kill Danielle. Closing her eyes, she could still see the despair and hatred on Charlotte’s face as she prepared to murder Danielle and her unborn son.

Talia grabbed Danielle’s arm, yanking her back to the present. “From this moment, you go nowhere alone. I want you armed at all times.” She turned to Andrew. “Go straight to King Theodore. Tell him to double the guards at the gates and on the walls.”

To Andrew’s credit, he waited for Beatrice’s nod before rushing off.

“You know who sent this,” Danielle said, staring at the severed toe.

Beatrice folded the note and returned it to the box. “Roudette has entered the palace once before. She would have killed me if not for Talia’s aid.”

“She’s known as the Lady of the Red Hood,” said Talia. “Having failed to kill Beatrice, it looks as though she’s coming for you.”

Danielle stared. “You’re telling me
Little Red Riding Hood
wants to kill me?”

“Asked Cinderella of Sleeping Beauty,” Snow added with a smile. She plucked the toe from the box. “Interesting choice of bait. It was a clean cut, for whatever that’s worth. Look at the bone, where—”

“I’d rather not,” said Danielle.

Talia pushed back one sleeve, revealing a pale scar that cut across her forearm. “Roudette gave me this the last time she was here. She’s stronger than she looks. Faster, too. Some say she’s every bit as fierce as the wolf from her story.”

Danielle wanted to laugh, but she knew Talia wouldn’t take a lesser threat so seriously. “How much of her story is true? There was a wolf and a hunter both.”

“Nobody knows.” Trittibar looked more somber than Danielle had ever seen him. “Roudette is the hunter now.”

Danielle sank onto the bench beside the queen. “Why would she want to kill me?”

“A better question is who hired her to kill you,” said Talia. “Roudette isn’t cheap, but for the right price, she’ll murder any target you choose. King or newborn, it makes no difference.”

Trittibar tugged the braids of his beard. “When she attempted to kill your queen, she carried a fairy-forged blade, hoping to frame my people for the murder. Had she succeeded, it could have ended the treaty and renewed the war between our people.”

“She seems to prefer fairy targets,” Talia added. “Fairies and their human allies.”

“Allies like us.” Danielle felt strangely calm, like an actress playing a role. None of it felt real. Who could possibly hate her so much that they would pay an assassin to kill her? Charlotte and Stacia were different. Their hatred had been personal. Roudette was a stranger. “You’re sure this is a trap? We
did
capture Rumpelstilzchen. Maybe this is her twisted way of thanking us.”

“She sent you a
toe
,” said Snow. “That’s not the sort of thing you give your new best friend. Except maybe among goblins. I hear they prepare the toes of their enemies as snacks, smoking the meat and—”

“Roudette doesn’t do favors,” Talia said. “She means to lure you out and kill you.”

The flat certainty in Talia’s words broke through any remaining doubt. “So why not sneak into my room and cut my throat as I sleep?”

Snow beamed. “Roudette can’t get within a hundred paces of the palace without me knowing. Talia gave as good as she got in that last fight. There was more than enough blood for me to be able to key the wards in the wall directly to Roudette. She won’t come here a second time. You’re safe here.”

“There’s no such thing as safe,” Talia said. “Snow’s right, though. Any two-penny fortune-teller could have warned Roudette what would happen if she tried to enter the palace.”

“So why bother with Charlotte?” Danielle asked. “Roudette had no problem ambushing Rumpelstilzchen on the road. Why not wait until the next time I leave and do the same with me?”

“You’d be under guard,” said Snow. “And Roudette might have a time limit. If she was paid to make sure you died by a certain day, she might have no choice but to lure you out.”

Talia turned to Snow. “Use the toe to scry on Charlotte. If you’re lucky, you’ll get a glimpse of Roudette as well. From Roudette’s note, we have until tomorrow night before she tries again. I’ll talk to Father Isaac about strengthening the wards.”

“What about . . .” Danielle’s voice trailed off. They had already decided to let Roudette kill Charlotte. She looked toward the altar at the front of the church. Charlotte’s crimes had certainly earned death, and yet—