Red Hood's Revenge

reach.
    Talia dropped to her knees. She appeared to be praying, but Roudette could hear her whispering to Snow and Danielle. “Be sure to warn the Kha’iida what they face here.”
    “Where is Zestan?” Roudette demanded.
    “She waits inside,” said Naghesh, indicating the palace with one hand. She pulled a necklace from her shirt, a pendant of green crystal the size of her thumb. “She sees and hears all that happens here.”
    Roudette folded her arms into her cape. “Fulfill your bargain. Summon the rest of the Wild Hunt.”
    “The Hunt obeys Zestan,” Naghesh said. “You have her word they will trouble your land no more.”
    “And when Zestan falls?” Roudette shook her head. She felt like a child again, fighting to keep her voice from shaking. She was so close. “Let them all witness. Let the Wild Hunt itself pledge to obey.”
    The Wild Hunt appeared without signal or sound. Each hunter seemed to carry a shard of the moon within himself, adding to the light until it was bright as day. Their mounts crowded together between the fairy wall and a depression in the earth that might have once been a decorative stream circling the palace.
    Roudette’s fingers dug into a small pocket sewn into the hem of her cape. She carefully pulled out a small barbed weight, concealing it in her sweat-slick palm.
    Naghesh spread her arms. “Zestan-e-Jheg swears to you that the Wild Hunt will never again trouble Morova. In exchange, you will hand Talia Malak-el-Dahshat into my keeping.”
    With her other hand, Roudette hauled Talia to her feet. “Your word as a fairy that Zestan waits within those walls, that she hears and affirms this bargain?”
    “You have my word,” said Naghesh.
    Over a hundred years old, the lead weight was sharp as the day it was cast, all but untouched by age. Teardrop shaped, with tiny spurs curving up around the central point, it still showed the bloodstains from the last time its barbs had pierced Talia’s skin. Roudette could feel the magic of the fairy poison clinging to the metal, heating her palm. If she held it for too long, her skin would begin to blister.
    According to the stories, Talia’s curse had affected everyone within the palace. Every animal had fallen, even the flies had dropped from the air, asleep. That curse had stood for one hundred years, unbreakable by blade or magic.
    Roudette doubted her cape would be strong enough to protect her from such power. For a hundred years Aratheans had tried to penetrate the hedge and lift the curse of Sleeping Beauty. Even artifacts from the war between peri and deev had failed. But perhaps she would have a few extra moments before she joined Talia and the others in sleep. Time enough to ram her knife through Naghesh’s throat. She owed Talia that much.
    And then she would finally rest and, with her, the Wild Hunt. The Kha’iida would arrive to find the hedge reborn, their enemies trapped. With one strike, Roudette would protect the world from the Hunt for the next hundred years.
    The Kha’iida would remember. They would pass the story to their children and their grandchildren, how the Wild Hunt attacked their people, and how Red Hood and Sleeping Beauty worked together to capture the Hunt and their master. They would remember, and they would be waiting. When the hedge began to fall, they would find the Wild Hunt still sleeping. Queen Lakhim’s son had murdered Talia’s family in their sleep. The Kha’iida would do the same to the Hunt and to Zestan as well, ridding the world of their evil.
    This was Roudette’s purpose. Her life. Queen Lakhim’s gold had gone to find the tip of the zaraq whip. From there she had bargained with Zestan and the Duchess. The fairy sprite was to bring her here, where she could trigger the curse and end it all. Charlotte had fought the sprite, and Snow had broken free of the fairy ring, but Roudette’s path had led her back.
    Talia would understand. She might even thank Roudette for saving Arathea. She yanked Talia’s rope, hauling her close and keeping her between herself and the hunters.
    Talia didn’t resist. Instead, she lunged back, her head smashing into Roudette’s nose. Roudette lost her grip on the rope. Instantly Talia was spinning away, hands swinging up to sweep Roudette’s arms aside.
    “You tense before you strike,” Talia said, kicking Roudette in the chest. “Like a wolf preparing to charge. It’s a bad habit for an assassin.”
    Talia snatched a knife from Roudette’s