Red Hood's Revenge (6 page)

“She’s been dragged from Fairytown, maimed, and tied up in a fairy graveyard,” Snow said. “I think it’s safe to say she’s not working with Roudette.”

Talia turned away in disgust. Charlotte was a cruel, selfish fool who had latched onto anyone she believed could bring her power. Her stepmother, her sister Stacia, the Duchess in Fairytown. If Roudette had asked, Charlotte almost certainly would have helped her of her own free will.

“How could Roudette make it back so quickly?” Talia asked. She toyed with the idea that Roudette had hired a partner. Roudette could have sent someone else to dispatch Lang and Rumpelstilzchen. But the Lady of the Red Hood worked alone, and the butchery had been too quick, too thorough.

“Magic.” Snow guessed. “It helps to explain why nobody’s ever managed to capture her.”

Talia hopped from the table. “Get your things ready. I think I’m going to pack a few more knives.”

 

When Snow was a child, she used to stay up half the night, reading by light that she captured from the moon and stored in smooth stones from the river. These days her body demanded more rest. She had managed a quick nap before dinner, but it wasn’t enough. Within an hour of leaving the palace, she found herself nodding off, jerking awake when her body tilted too far in the saddle.

The tiny snores coming from her belt pouch only made her grumpier. In order to stay inconspicuous, Ambassador Trittibar had shrunk down to his natural size, no larger than a rag doll. Most of the time, the fairy ambassador used magic to make himself appear more or less human, presumably so nobody would step on him by mistake. Not to mention what could have happened to the poor fairy when Prince Jakob was teething.

The fog had begun to roll in from the east. Taking the coastal highway meant Snow could see the Arantine Ocean through gaps in the woods to her left. It was a nice change from her previous view of the trees and the backside of Talia’s horse.

Talia glanced over her shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

Snow covered a yawn. Before she could speak, Talia pulled her horse to a halt, blocking the road.

“You’re falling asleep in the saddle,” Talia said.

“I just need to stretch.” She climbed down from the horse and tossed back the hood of her riding cloak, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand. She dug through her saddlebag until she found a small parcel of willow bark. Normally she would have brewed a tea with the bark, but in a pinch, it could be used raw. She popped a strip into her mouth and grimaced at the bitter taste.

“You’re eating trees!”

“Only the bark,” Snow said. “To keep my back from tightening up. We don’t all have fairy magic coursing through our bodies to keep us graceful and limber, you know.”

“Your back,” Talia repeated. “Right.” Concern made her words unusually awkward. “You’ve used a lot of magic this week. Preparing the storeroom for Rumpelstilzchen, breaking the spells on the children, then tracking Charlotte and Roudette. Are you sure you’re ready for this? Your injury—”

“Is fine. Tymalous said so himself.” Snow threw the rest of the bark back into the saddlebag and yanked it shut. In truth, her head had been throbbing for most of the day. “If the king’s healer says my skull is healed, who are you to argue?”

“I’m the one who sees you every day, who sees the way your eyes tear up when you overexert yourself magically and notices the way you rub the back of your head when you think nobody’s watching. I’m the one who saw you crumpled on the steps after being slammed against a wall by a mermaid’s angry air spirits.”

Snow said nothing. Tymalous
had
pronounced her skull healed from the fracture she had received during that fight. He had also warned her that some damage yet lingered beneath the bone and that the effects of such injuries could last for years. All of which Snow already knew. Just as she knew she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her days as an invalid.

“You need me,” Snow said. “You need my magic to help sneak up on Roudette and counter whatever tricks she might have prepared.”

Talia slid from her horse. She lowered her eyes, her words momentarily losing their edge. “Not if it’s going to hurt you. Trittibar can be my magical backup.”

“Trittibar?” Snow laughed, nearly spitting out her bark. “You two would kill each other before you even reached Roudette.” She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I promise to rest once this is over. Will that satisfy you, Mother? I swear you’re as bad as Danielle.”

“Rest now. We can ride double.”

Snow stiffened. “I have some medicines in here that will wake me up. Give me a moment to find them, and I’ll be—”

“How many times have you lectured me about those medicines?” Talia demanded. “How each one takes its toll, and how most of the time the best thing for a body is rest, not drugs?”

“When did you start listening to me?” Snow muttered.

There was a time she would have joined Talia without hesitation. They had ridden together countless times on missions for Queen Bea. Snow had grown up without brothers or sisters, but she couldn’t imagine a sister being as close as she and Talia had become over the years. Two princesses, both exiled from their lands, both given a new home by Beatrice.

Sometimes she wondered if that wasn’t why Beatrice had sought them out, to unite each of them with the one person who might understand what the other had lost. Talia had become her closest friend, but things had changed last year when Snow learned Talia’s feelings for her went beyond friendship. Neither of them had spoken of it, and most days Snow did her best to pretend she didn’t know, but—

“Stop wasting time,” said Talia. “Even if you make it to Stone Grove without falling off your horse, the last thing I want is an exhausted sorceress flinging magic around while I’m trying to fight a killer.”

Snow stuck out her tongue, but Talia had a point. She finished buckling the saddlebag and surrendered to logic, walking over to join Talia.

Talia’s grip was strong and calloused. She hauled Snow up with ease, settling her in the front of the saddle. Mumbled protests erupted from Snow’s belt pouch. She settled the pouch into her lap with a quick apology to Trittibar for nearly sitting on him. She tucked her cloak around her body, then pulled her hair over one shoulder, tucking it into the cloak so it wouldn’t blow in Talia’s face.

“Relax,” said Talia. “I told you I wasn’t going to drop you.”

Snow leaned back. “How am I supposed to relax? It’s like trying to sleep on a weapons rack.”

Talia snorted, but she adjusted her belt, sliding several knives around past her hips and removing a pair of hooked throwing blades from the leather vest she wore over her shirt. “Better?”

Snow didn’t move as Talia reached around her to take the reins. Talia’s body was more tense than usual, her arms stiff against Snow’s sides. The saddle wasn’t built for two, and the curve of the leather pressed their bodies together.

“Try not to drool in your sleep.” Talia squeezed her knees, urging the horse forward. A cluck of her tongue brought Snow’s mount following behind.

“Aren’t you going to sing me a lullaby?” Snow asked, falling back on familiar teasing to hide her discomfort.

“Sorry. The kind of songs you like never sound as good sober.”

Snow settled her body, leaning her head on Talia’s shoulder. What was she worried about? Whatever feelings Talia might have for Snow, Talia was also the last person who would ever take advantage of someone in their sleep. Or awake, for that matter. Snow had known priests who flirted more than Talia.

“You smell like oil,” Snow whispered.

“From the knives. Go to sleep.”

Snow closed her eyes. “Wake me when it’s time to kill Red Riding Hood.”

S
NOW DIDN’T EXPECT TO GET MUCH SLEEP, but between the rhythm of the horse’s hooves and the warmth of Talia’s body, she drifted off almost immediately. Talia woke her twice during the night to switch mounts.

The third time she woke, they were coming up on a small farmhouse. Snow’s head lay in the crook of Talia’s neck, and Talia’s arm circled Snow’s waist, holding her in place. The skies were dark, but only for two or three hours longer, judging from the position of the moon.

Ambassador Trittibar had crawled from her pouch at some point during the night. He now sat comfortably between the horse’s ears, his arms twined in the mane for support.

Snow grimaced and spat. Bits of willow bark crusted her lips. She wiped her mouth on the corner of her cloak.

“I made you spit that stuff out last night,” Talia said. “I was afraid you’d choke.”

“Thank you.” She sat up and tried to rub the stiffness from her neck. Her head felt better, but she needed a real night’s sleep before she’d be fully recovered. She touched her choker, whispering a quick spell to try to locate Roudette.

“Anything?” asked Trittibar.

Snow shook her head. “It’s that cape of hers again. I was lucky to see anything at all yesterday. Who wears such a garish thing, anyway?”

Talia jumped down. “Eastpointe is just ahead, which means Stone Grove should be west of here. We’ll have a better chance of catching Roudette off guard if we go on foot. Try to see Charlotte while I talk to these people about watching the horses.”

Snow gripped the saddle with both hands and lowered herself to the ground. Spying on Charlotte would have to wait for more urgent matters. Leaving Trittibar to watch the horses, she disappeared into the woods. Much as she enjoyed these outings for the queen, there were times she preferred to stay at the castle where she could enjoy cooked meals, a real bed, and most importantly, a proper privy.

By the time Talia returned, Snow was digging through the saddlebags for something to eat. She grinned when she saw what Talia had packed. “You remembered!”

“Always,” Talia said.

Snow pulled out the small basket and yanked back the top. Her mouth watered at the smell of finely ground figs, saffron, and a touch of nadif spice, all fried in dough and glazed with caramel. She pulled off a few crumbs for Trittibar, then took an enormous bite for herself.

“Charlotte?” Talia asked.

“Sleeping, as far as I can tell,” Snow said around a mouthful of food. “Roudette’s cape shields Charlotte, but the toe gives me enough of a connection to pierce the smoke. That interference means they’re still together. Did you bring anything to drink?”

Talia was already transferring some of their belongings to her person. She grabbed a small leather bottle, took a drink then handed it to Snow.

“How can you drink this stuff?” Snow’s nose wrinkled at the burned, bitter smell of cold coffee. She gulped it down, rinsing her mouth the best she could. If nothing else, the coffee helped shove the last of the fatigue from her mind.

She tossed the bottle back to Talia. Gripping one of the smaller mirrors on her choker, she whispered a command. Gold wire unwound from the glass, releasing the mirror into her hand. The edge was rimmed in gold leaf, protecting her fingers from the sharp edges.

“What are you doing?” Talia asked.

“Roudette’s expecting Danielle. If we can sneak up on her, great. If not, I thought disguises might help us get close enough to take care of her.” She stared into the mirror, summoning an image of Danielle from the day before. Holding that image in her mind, she returned the mirror to her choker.

She watched her hands change, losing the pale perfection of her own skin and taking on the light tan of Danielle’s. She raised her left hand, admiring the gold band on the fourth finger. “If Danielle polished this thing any more often, it could blind you.”

Talia pursed her lips. “Not bad. Your voice sounds the same, but you don’t talk like Danielle does. You definitely don’t move like her, but Roudette shouldn’t know the difference. So what makes you think Roudette won’t simply sneak up and kill you?”

“As if you’d let that happen.” Snow tapped her choker. “Besides, she can’t come within ten paces without my knowing. Remember the wards on the castle walls? I’ve got the same spell in my mirrors.”

“And if she decides to shoot you from a distance?”

Snow shrugged. “Roudette prefers to kill up close. She likes to be sure.”

“Be careful,” said Talia. “Don’t overdo it with the magic before we’ve even found her.”

“I’m fine,” Snow said lightly. “The mirror does most of the work.”

“What about my disguise?” asked Talia. “There’s no way Roudette will have forgotten what I look like.”

Snow grinned and touched another of her mirrors. “You’re going to love it.”

 

“I can’t decide how I’m going to kill you,” Talia said as she made her way through the woods. The trees were older here, the canopy thick with leaves whose colors were just beginning to change. The ground was soft earth, bare of all save mushrooms, rotting branches, and fallen leaves. “I thought about beating you with this walking stick, but there’s also something to be said for using your bare hands.”