Red Hood's Revenge

word of a condemned criminal is hardly adequate grounds for such an accusation.”
    “I’m telling the truth,” Charlotte shouted. She flushed and lowered her head. “Believe me or don’t. I don’t care. Just get this damned mark off of me.”
    “I believe you,” Danielle said softly. She glanced at the king, who nodded. To Father Isaac, she said, “Would you and Snow please do what you can to remove the curse?”
    “What then?” asked Charlotte warily, showing hints of her old self.
    Danielle watched the king, but he held his silence, allowing her to answer. “Once they’ve removed the curse and you’ve told us everything you know, I want you gone from Lorindar. Forever.”
    Charlotte’s face reddened. For a moment, Danielle thought she might actually start shouting as she had done in the past. Instead, she whispered, “Thank you.” She spun toward Snow. “You heard her. Remove this thing at once!”
    Danielle spotted Talia disappearing out the doors. Danielle bowed hastily to the king and queen before hurrying after.
    “Where are you going?” Snow asked.
    “To stop Talia from doing something foolish.”
     
    Danielle hated visiting Talia’s room in the palace. Most of the senior servants shared quarters in the base of the northwest tower. Talia and Snow were among the few to have their own rooms, courtesy of Beatrice. Snow’s room was a carefully cultivated masterpiece of clutter, with a few small magical traps scattered throughout to turn away anyone who got too nosey.
    Talia’s room was the opposite. Small but tidy, with a folded cot that never saw use, it was little better than a closet. She deserved so much more, but every time Danielle raised the subject, Talia brushed her off.
    Danielle found Talia removing her clothes from a small trunk, laying each garment into one of three piles on the floor. Talia didn’t bother looking up. “You make too much noise when you walk, Princess. That scabbard slaps your leg with every step. Remind me to adjust the straps before I go.”
    “You’re not leaving,” said Danielle.
    “Roudette got away. She’ll keep coming for me.”
    “You fought her before,” Danielle pointed out.
    “It doesn’t matter.” There was no fight left in Talia’s words. “Queen Lakhim knows where I am. If not Roudette, she’ll send someone else. She’ll keep trying, and she won’t care who gets caught in the bloodshed.”
    Danielle pulled the door shut behind her. Sunlight squeezed through a narrow window on the far wall. “They’re your sons. Surely we can talk to Arathea, explain—”
    “Mutal and Mahatal are seven . . . no, eight years of age. Roudette might have been hired on their authority, promised their gold, but the order came from their grandmother. Lakhim won’t stop until I’ve paid for the murder of her son.”
    Danielle sat down beside her. “It wasn’t murder. What he did to you—”
    “You think she cares? Prince Jihab was her only son.” She stumbled ever so slightly over the name. “I cut his throat while he slept. I thought it poetic, considering what he did to me during mine. With him gone, his mother rules as haishak—as regent—until her grandsons come of age.” Talia tossed a sash onto the closest pile. She stared at the pile, looking lost. “My own sons, and I can’t even remember what they looked like.”
    Danielle picked up the sash and began refolding it. Talia might be fairy-blessed, but her gifts didn’t extend to laundry.
    “I remember their crying,” Talia said. “Sometimes I think that’s what woke me from the curse. Not the pain of childbirth, but the crying.” She pushed back the mattress on the cot, and dust wafted through the air. She snatched a long dagger from beneath the mattress and tucked it beside her clothes. “I can’t tell you what they looked like, but I remember their father. I remember his triumph when he returned to claim me. His prize, Princess Talia Malak-el-Dahshat. His family’s key to the throne of Arathea. I killed him, Danielle. No treaty gives Lorindar the right to shelter a prince’s killer.”
    “So we’ll write a new treaty,” Danielle said.
    That earned a weak smile. Talia reached into the trunk and pulled out a long-stemmed pipe. She held it to the light, inspecting the carved ivory bowl and the curved wooden stem before returning it to its case. “In Arathea, family comes before all. I’m only surprised it took them so long to find me.”
    “What about Snow?”
    “We