Red Hood's Revenge (41 page)

“I’ll be fine as soon as I get some sleep.” Snow covered her eyes with one hand. “Arathea is too bright.”

“You need food and water to restore your strength,” Faziya insisted. She pinched the back of Snow’s hand. “You haven’t been drinking enough. Your body needs more water in the desert.” She turned away to shout at one of the other Kha’iida, telling him to bring a waterskin. To Snow, she added, “You know it’s dangerous to sleep after an injury to the head.”

“This isn’t a new injury,” Snow said. “It’s more than a year old—”

“But never fully healed,” Faziya countered. “You’ve aggravated it. You need rest, but not sleep.”

Danielle leaned close to Talia. “Which one do you think will win?”

“I thought you couldn’t understand Arathean,” Talia said.

“No, but I know Snow’s tone.” Danielle glanced past Talia, and her smile vanished.

Talia turned to see more of Lakhim’s soldiers approaching. A growl built in the back of her throat. The ebony horse must have continued to bring Lakhim’s men. They now outnumbered the Kha’iida nearly two to one, and the newcomers were fresh and ready for battle. “Stay here.”

Talia strode to meet them. She was unsurprised when Danielle followed.

The raqeem walked at the head of his men. His sash of rank was knotted around a gash in his thigh. He kept his hands open, away from his weapons. Little comfort, given that his men held spears and swords ready.

“Talia,” said the raqeem. “Our orders are to bring you back to Queen Lakhim.” He at least had the decency to sound apologetic.

Talia spread her arms and smiled. “Be my guest.”

“Wait!” Muhazil moved to stand beside her. “This is Talia Malak-el-Dahshat. She risked her life to protect this land. She probably saved Lakhim’s life.”

“She murdered Prince Jihab,” said the raqeem. “Whatever else she might have done, she must answer for that death.”

Those Kha’iida who could fight were spreading out behind Talia, readying their weapons.

Talia still carried her own knives, but she didn’t bother to draw them. Even with one hand injured, she could spring forward and break the raqeem’s neck before anyone else reacted. She
wanted
to fight. Numbers made no difference. These men served Lakhim, the woman who had sentenced Talia to death. Whose family had taken everything Talia ever knew. Her nation, her heritage, even her children.

Zestan had been right. Arathea
would
follow Sleeping Beauty. Just as Rajil’s guards had turned against their raikh to help Talia. Just as the Kha’iida gathered behind her now. One fight at a time, she could take Arathea back.

“What do you want?” asked Danielle. She hadn’t even drawn her sword.

Talia’s rage broke. If she fought, Danielle would be caught in the middle. Faziya and Snow were farther back, but all it would take was a single clumsy shot with a bow to kill them both. Snow would try to fight, and who knew what would happen if she continued to push herself to use more magic.

Roudette had spent her life fighting. Talia didn’t want to follow that same path.

Danielle must have read the answer in Talia’s face. She stepped forward, putting a hand on Talia’s shoulder. “Go with them.”

“I can’t—”

“Do you trust me?”

Talia glared. Danielle’s smile was highly inappropriate for one standing between angry warriors.

“These soldiers are men of Arathea too,” Danielle said. “Your people. I’ve watched you this past week, Talia. I know you don’t want to fight them.”

“I don’t want to have my head cut off, either,” Talia snapped.

“I won’t let that happen.”

The wolf’s rage was building, urging Talia to attack. She pushed it back. “You’ve been spending too much time with Beatrice.”

Danielle’s smile grew.

Talia turned around, looking past the Kha’iida to Snow and Faziya. Danielle was right, damn her. To the raqeem, she said, “I’ll go with you.”

Muhazil started to protest, but Talia cut him off. “Your people have more important duties than to protect me.”

She watched as two soldiers ran to fetch the ebony horse. The raqeem climbed onto the horse’s bare back. Talia followed, watching Danielle closely. Danielle said nothing. She simply waited, lips twitching.

A second soldier mounted behind Talia. The raqeem kicked his heels into the horse’s sides and shouted, “To the queen!”

Nothing happened. The raqeem kicked again and repeated his command, slightly flustered.

This time the horse did respond, but rather than vanishing into the wind, it trotted at a leisurely pace toward Danielle. She smiled and reached up to stroke the horse’s head. “Talia, would you please translate for me?”

Talia looked at Danielle, then at the horse. Slowly, she too began to smile.

“Tell this man to stop yelling at his horse. Otherwise, I’ll ask it to ride out to the middle of the ocean. I know
you
can swim.”

Talia repeated Danielle’s words. The ebony horse couldn’t actually cross the ocean, but she doubted the raqeem would know that.

The raqeem straightened. “Who are you?”

“That makes no difference,” said Danielle. “What matters is I’ve told your horse who Talia is. He knows his true master.”

Talia pursed her lips. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but even if we steal the horse, Lakhim will never stop—”

“I’ve never stolen a thing in my life,” Danielle protested. “Despite what my stepsisters used to say.”

The raqeem reached for his sword. The ebony horse turned his head. A single red-jeweled eye flashed in the sun. Slowly, the raqeem removed his hand.

“Talia and I will speak to your queen,” Danielle said.

He didn’t move. Talia could have tossed him from the horse, but she restrained herself. “You were ordered to bring us to Lakhim. I give you my word we will go to her. Not to fight but to talk.”

He twisted about, studying her for a moment, then climbed down from the horse. He barked an order at the other soldier, who followed.

“I assume the horse knows where to find Queen Lakhim?” Danielle asked.

“The palace,” said the raqeem. “She returned home as soon as she received word of Zestan’s death.” He glanced at the spot where Zestan had fallen.

Danielle climbed up behind Talia.

“Wait,” said Faziya. She moved slowly, doing her best to hide her weakness. She stepped past both groups of warriors until she reached the horse. There, she looked up at Talia and said only, “Return to me.”

Talia’s throat knotted. “I will.”

Faziya walked away without another word. Danielle whispered a command, and the desert vanished.

 

There was no wind. No sense of movement. Nothing but cold and darkness, lasting only long enough for Talia to wonder what might happen to one who jumped free before arriving at her destination.

Shouts erupted all around them as the horse trotted to a halt. Talia didn’t bother to hide her smirk. “You told it to bring us to the throne room?”

Danielle shrugged. “I said to take us to Lakhim. Be thankful she wasn’t using the privy.”

Neither Talia nor Danielle moved as guards surrounded the horse. Queen Lakhim sat in the single throne in front of an abstract painting of the sun, as though she were the source of all light. Talia gritted her teeth. Her family had never stooped to such drama.

Burgundy carpeting covered the floors, woven with intricate geometric designs in gold and silver thread, now marred by large hoofprints. The pillars were trimmed in gold leaf, as were the arches supporting the high vaulted ceiling. Each section of the ceiling had been painted with an image of Lakhim’s family.

Talia tensed as she spotted the portrait of Prince Jihab. The artist had painted him in front of the accursed hedge, sword gleaming in the sun as he prepared to cut his way into the palace.

Danielle touched Talia’s arm and pointed to the right of the throne, where two children stood in the shadows.

Talia’s nails dug into her fists. She could have passed her sons on the street and never would have recognized them, but who else could they be, dressed in the gold-and-green robes of nobility, their faces all but identical. They had their father’s deep set eyes and angular jaw, but their faces were narrower, reminding Talia of her own brothers. Their hair was cut short, dark bangs swirling flat against their brows. She had no idea which twin was which.

“Talia.” Lakhim spat the name as though it were a curse. The years as queen had taken their toll. Her hair was grayer, her face more wrinkled than Talia remembered. She stood with a slight hunch, making her appear shorter. She wore a golden circlet, the crown of the haishak, the regent for the princes.

The twins stared at Talia, fear and confusion plain on their young faces. They hadn’t recognized Talia, but it was clear they knew her name.

Danielle jumped from the horse. “Lakhim, I am Danielle Whiteshore of Lorindar. I’ve come to discuss an end to your vendetta against Princess Talia.”

Lakhim stared at Danielle, her expression stone. “This woman murdered my son.”

Lakhim’s speech was heavily accented, but she spoke the language of Lorindar well enough for Danielle to understand. Danielle met her glare without flinching. “And your assassin murdered my people. Her actions resulted in the death of my stepsister.”

“Roudette was sent to retrieve a killer and a threat to Arathea.” Lakhim glanced at Talia. “Apparently she failed.”

“Shall we debate whose was the first sin, Lakhim?” Danielle strode forward. If Talia hadn’t known her, she never would have seen how nervous Danielle was. Her tutelage under Queen Beatrice had paid off. “What of Talia’s family, preserved with her behind the hedge? Whose hand slit their throats as they slept, killing even the smallest child?”

Lakhim rose. “You dare—”

“Zestan is dead,” Danielle said. “As is your assassin. Arathea has already jeopardized its friendship with Lorindar by sending a killer to our land. Would you sever that relationship altogether for the sake of vengeance?”

The queen clasped her hands together, changing tactics. “Lorindar is a beautiful nation, but a small one.”

“True,” said Danielle. “But Lorindar does not stand alone. Alynn and Francon of Lyskar recently found themselves in our debt. Not to mention our close ties to the undine.”

Lakhim waved her men back a step. “You would enter my home and threaten my land? What makes you think I won’t have you both killed for this intrusion?”

Talia brushed a hand over her cape. “What makes you think your men would survive such an attempt?”

“You won’t.” Danielle glanced at Talia, the warning obviously meant for her as well as Lakhim. Danielle raised her wrist, tapping the mirrored bracelet. “Not while my husband listens through this glass.”

Lakhim studied them both. Talia could almost hear her calculating the odds. Finally, she brought her hands together and said, “So long as Talia lives, she is a threat to Arathea.”

“Rescind the sentence on Talia.” Danielle turned around, and for the first time her composure cracked. She mouthed the words
I’m sorry
before raising her head to say, “In exchange, Talia will renounce her claim to the throne of Arathea.”

“No.” Talia had expected something like this, but the whisper slipped out before she could stop herself.

“My son is dead. You would ask me to let his murderer go free?” Lakhim glanced at the princes. “You are a mother yourself, Danielle. Could you forgive the one who took your child away?”

“Will war bring him back?” Danielle countered. “Will more death change what happened?” She stepped forward, shedding her formal court manners. “I can’t imagine the grief you feel to this day. I have nightmares about losing Jakob. But think of Arathea. Talia is a threat because there are many who would follow her. Kill her, and her fame only grows. But none can rally to a banner that Talia herself refuses.”

Lakhim turned to face Talia, formally acknowledging her for the first time. “What do you say to this?” She spat the words, not bothering to hide her hatred.

Talia couldn’t answer. Her family had ruled Arathea longer than any line in memory. What would her ancestors think if she were to hand everything over to the very family who had plundered her home and stolen the throne? Arathea should be hers, even if it took a lifetime to wrest it from Lakhim’s power. It was Talia who should sit on that throne.

“What do you want?” Danielle asked, just as she had before.

Talia closed her eyes, thinking of Lorindar. Of rainy mornings and bland food. Of Prince Jakob demanding one more song from “Aunt Tala.” Of Beatrice, and everything she had done for Talia over the years. Of Snow’s smile, her laughter that could fill a room.

She could kill Lakhim and escape. With her gifts and Roudette’s cape, none here could stop her. She could take the crown . . . and she would spend the rest of her days fighting to keep it. Warring against Lakhim’s allies, not to mention those fairies who had given their loyalty to Zestan. “I accept the terms.”

“Very well.” Lakhim’s eyes narrowed in triumph. “Let us—”

“Under one condition.” Talia stepped forward until she stood as close to Lakhim as family. “While you were busy hunting me and sending your assassin to Lorindar, Zestan spread her spies throughout the fairy church. She corrupted the raikhs and attacked the Kha’iida. Allow something like this to happen again, and I will return to Arathea to do what you can’t and protect my people.”

Talia spoke her final words more softly still, forcing Lakhim to lean forward to hear. “And should you or yours
ever
threaten me again, the last thing you see will be your blood spilling from your body, mixing with the red of my cape.”