Red Hood's Revenge

sheath. Roudette lunged again, but Talia was too damned quick. The knife slashed Roudette’s forearm. The zaraq weight fell to the sand. Roudette reached for it, and Talia slammed the pommel of the knife into Roudette’s throat. It was a blow that could have killed even the Lady of the Red Hood if she hadn’t seen it coming. She twisted, taking the impact on the side of the neck instead. It was still enough to send her staggering back.
    “That’s enough!” Talia pressed the knife against her own throat. She was smiling, though Roudette could smell her fear. “It’s my turn to bargain. Where’s Zestan?”
    Talia’s foot nudged the weight. Her gaze flicked downward, just long enough to identify it. Even that was almost enough time for the Hunt to strike. Two hunters leaped from their mounts, swords appearing in their hands as if by magic.
    “I wouldn’t,” Talia said, turning to face them. “You’re fast enough to kill me, sure. Fast enough to disarm me before I use this? I think not.”
    “What do you want, Princess?” Naghesh’s amusement grated. Roudette would have loved the chance to carve that fairy arrogance from her warty face.
    Talia ignored her, speaking instead to Roudette. “That’s a zaraq weight,” she said, her voice soft. “That style hasn’t been used in a hundred years.”
    “She meant to curse you again,” said Naghesh. “To curse us all.”
    Talia’s anger was so strong Roudette could feel it from here, but there was something deeper there: understanding. Roudette wouldn’t have expected forgiveness, nor would she have accepted it, but she had known Talia would understand. In the face of her failure, she was surprised at the comfort that brought.
    “It’s not too late,” said Roudette, hoping Talia would understand. Talia could grab the weight, close her fist around the barbs, and trigger the curse.
    “I’m afraid it is,” said Naghesh. “My dear Talia. Even as a babe, your spirit held such fire. Almost fey, the way it burned. It’s one of the reasons our curse worked so well.”
    Talia’s eyes narrowed.
    “Roudette’s plan might have worked,” the troll continued. “The poison still clings to the metal. Zestan would have paid nicely for that little trinket. Instead, I’ve spent several years working to duplicate the poison.”
    “It was hidden in Lakhim’s palace,” Roudette said, trying to keep Naghesh’s attention. “They were trying to develop a potion to reverse the effects, to protect themselves.” Lakhim believed it was the fairies who had broken into her home and stolen the weight.
    “You could have earned the favor of the most powerful fairy in Arathea,” Naghesh said.
    “Not interested.” What was Talia waiting for? Her arm was tense, her hand trembling, but she didn’t move.
    Naghesh’s smile grew, exposing teeth like slabs of cracked ivory. “My magic flows through her limbs with every heartbeat. Limbs which obey my will, not hers.”
    She stepped forward to retrieve the zaraq weight. To Talia, she said “You’re mine, child. As you’ve always been.”
    Talia’s eyes found Roudette, pleading. Roudette gathered herself, calling on the wolf’s strength. She was too weak to fight Naghesh, but it would only take a single rush to reach Talia and shove the knife home.
    An arrow slammed into Roudette’s thigh, burying itself to the fletching. A second struck her side. She crashed into Talia’s legs, knocking them both to the ground.
    “Don’t kill her,” Naghesh shouted.
    The knife had fallen away, out of reach. Roudette tried one last time, pulling herself along the ground toward Talia’s throat.
    Naghesh’s staff cracked against the back of Roudette’s head, and she collapsed atop Talia. The hands of the Wild Hunt burned as they pulled her away.
    “Take them both inside. Once we’ve learned the extent of Roudette’s betrayal, you may have her.”
    Had she been stronger, Roudette might have felt dread at those words. Better a thousand deaths than to be made one of the Wild Hunt. But she had nothing left for dread. She had no thought for anything but her failure—and for the pouch she had torn from Talia’s belt.
    As the hunters dragged her through the broken remains of the palace wall, she dropped the pouch into the rubble.
    Her last thought was that maybe she would be lucky enough to bleed to death before the Hunt took her, and then everything went white.
     
    Snow pushed her nose out of the pouch, whiskers twitching