Red Hood's Revenge

her.
    “I meant from Fairytown,” Danielle said. “Will they really exile him for saving Snow and Talia?”
    “He violated the treaty.” Beatrice made no effort to hide her sadness. “Fairies are not known for ignoring the rules. Twisting them to meet their needs, yes. Something like this . . . no matter the circumstances, I’m afraid they’ve no choice.”
    Theodore turned to Danielle. “Ambassador or no, Trittibar will always be welcome in this palace.”
    “None of this is your fault,” Beatrice assured her.
    “No?” Danielle glanced at the doors. “I’m the one who insisted we save Charlotte.”
    “You made the right decision,” said Beatrice. “This was our best chance to stop Roudette.” The guards straightened, and Beatrice’s expression grew stern. “They’re here.”
    Talia and Snow entered together, Charlotte hobbling between them. Two more guards followed close behind.
    Charlotte’s wrists were shackled. Iron chain clinked loudly as she brushed her gown and picked at her hair, a halfhearted attempt at primping. She kept her head low, refusing to look at anyone.
    Her appearance filled Danielle with sadness. Charlotte was a withered shadow of the woman she had once been. She was skinny enough to pass for a fairy, and unlike Talia and Snow, she had been given no time to prepare herself for court. Grime covered her face, almost hiding the scars by her eyes. The bandage on her foot was black with dirt and blood. Her gown was in tatters. An iron bracelet circled her wrist.
    “She wasn’t wearing that bracelet when she first arrived,” Danielle whispered.
    “It was made by Father Isaac to prevent her from trying to use magic.” Beatrice took Danielle’s hand. “Whatever happens, remember that your stepsister chose her own path. Her fate is her responsibility, not yours.”
    King Theodore waited for Charlotte to reach the base of the dais. Charlotte knelt, as did her escort. Theodore beckoned them to rise. “How is Trittibar?”
    “Resting,” said Snow. “The wolf’s teeth tore deep into the arm. He shouldn’t lose the limb, but it may never regain its full strength.”
    Beatrice leaned forward. “What of your own injuries?”
    “I’m fine.” Snow was paler than usual, even the color in her lips faded to a light pink. Judging from Beatrice’s frown, she could see through Snow’s facade as easily as Danielle did.
    “Charlotte Moors.” King Theodore’s voice filled the throne room.
    Charlotte cringed. “Your Majesty.”
    She appeared . . . broken. Submissive, even. Whether from her years trapped in Fairytown or the knowledge that she was alone, Danielle couldn’t guess.
    Theodore stood. “Two years ago, you conspired with your stepsister Stacia to kidnap Prince Armand of Lorindar. My son. You then attempted to murder Princess Whiteshore. Later, you tried again to kill the princess and her unborn child both.”
    Charlotte began to cry, but said nothing.
    “While in Fairytown, Princess Whiteshore spared your life, showing you mercy.” The king’s voice was stone, his face as hard as Danielle had ever seen. “She overstepped her bounds.”
    Danielle bit back a protest. Even Snow and Talia looked surprised at his pronouncement.
    “You committed treason against Lorindar,” Theodore said. “You entered my home, attacked my family, and stole my son. Do you deny these acts?”
    “No.” Her voice was barely audible.
    “In other circumstances, you would be put to death. After consideration, we have decided to give you one chance to save yourself, to earn exile rather than the gallows.” He glanced at Beatrice, making Danielle suspect the queen had been influential in that choice.
    Charlotte looked up, hope and wariness on her face. “Anything, Your Majesty.”
    Beatrice leaned forward. “Help us find Roudette. Tell us what happened to you and what role you were to play in her attempt to kill Talia.”
    Charlotte sagged. “After Cinder—After Danielle and her friends freed Armand, I was left in the Duchess’ service. She kept me on as a slave. I was nothing, lower even than her goblins, given scraps for food, forced to sleep in—”
    “In other words, you were treated as you once treated your stepsister,” Beatrice said.
    “Yes.” Charlotte glanced at Danielle, then looked away, but not before Danielle saw something she had never imagined from her stepsister: shame.
    “Go on.”
    “A short time ago, the Duchess grew bored with me. She cast me out. One of