Red Hood's Revenge

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.”

CHAPTER 25

    T ALIA AND DANIELLE FOLLOWED LAKHIM to her scrying pool, a small pond lined in mother-of-pearl deep in the heart of the palace. The room was circular, as was traditional, but instead of a garden, Lakhim had decorated the room as garishly as the rest. Statues filled the room, along with tapestries and carpeting in colors so bright they could have been fairy- made. There they waited while Lakhim summoned her mage, a human, gray-haired and heavyset.
    “I thought Siqlah prohibited human magic?” Talia asked.
    “ I rule Arathea.” The words were as sharp as any blade, rousing the wolf in Talia. “The church protests, but I remember what the fairies did. Do you?”
    Talia snorted. “Is your pet mage the one who warned you of Zestan’s plan?”
    “No.” Lakhim hesitated. “It was a priest of the fairy church, a naga, who first came to me. Zestan’s influence was strong, but there are still those who believe in their duty to ‘protect’ us.” She straightened. “I expect these coming years will see a schism within the church. I mean to encourage that split.”
    “Good.” Turning the church against itself would weaken their power. “And the Kha’iida?”
    Lakhim flicked her fingers. “They think themselves above my law. That they’re above those of us who live in the cities. Let them solve their own problems.”
    Only Danielle’s presence stopped Talia from punching the Queen of Arathea in the face. “The Kha’iida are the reason you still have your crown.” She bared her teeth. “Their people have a term for those too ill-mannered to appreciate such a gift.”
    “My patience grows thin,” Lakhim warned.
    “And your words grow tiresome. If you had the courage to act, you’d have done so already.”
    After that, she waited in silence as the mage contacted the raikhs of Arathea, until the rulers of every city waited to hear Talia acknowledge Lakhim as queen.
    The ritual was ancient, unchanged for more than a thousand years. Talia repeated them in a flat tone, barely hearing her own voice. Her eyes were fixed on the carpeting at her feet. Though the water came all the way to the gold lip at the edge of the pool, not a drop spilled onto the rich blue-and-purple carpet.
    And then it was over. Given how many generations Talia’s family had spent uniting Arathea under their rule, it took