Red Hood's Revenge

straggly but alive. Smaller flowers and herbs grew at the base of the temple walls. Three younger girls in the black robes of the temple were tending the gardens. Talia smiled as she watched them, remembering a time when she had done the same.
    An old woman with only one leg lay sleeping in the shade of a fig tree. A man with a splinted arm walked through the yard. He tilted his head in greeting, then coughed politely, drawing the attention of the gardeners to Talia.
    One of the girls jumped to her feet. She hurried to the path, where she stopped to offer a half bow. “Welcome to the Temple of the Hedge. May you find peace and health within our walls.”
    Both her words and her movements were careful and precise, as though she had to remind herself of the proper greeting. She couldn’t have been here more than a month.
    “Thank you.” Talia’s mouth went dry as she looked about. She had tried not to think about what she might find when she arrived, but now that she was here, her palms were damp, and her heart was beating painfully hard. She swallowed and asked, “Is Sister Faziya available?”
    The girl’s shoulders tensed. “I’m sorry. Faziya left the temple more than a month ago.”
    Talia stared. Fairies could have razed Jahrasima to the ground, and it wouldn’t have struck Talia so hard. “I don’t understand. This was her home.”
    “You were a friend of hers?” The girl cocked her head at Talia. “Your accent is strange. Where have you come from?”
    From the entrance of the temple, an aged voice said, “Escort our visitor inside, Wijaq.”
    Talia straightened at the sound. Mother Khardija’s voice was every bit as regal and commanding as a queen’s.
    Mother Khardija stood in the wide rectangular entryway into the temple proper, her arms folded over her chest. She appeared unchanged, still dressed in the same faded robe Talia remembered, more gray than black now. Wrinkles covered her old face like cracked glazing, almost hiding the small blue thorn tattooed on her left cheek. Two ivory rods pinned her thin gray hair in a tight knot.
    “She doesn’t appear sick, Mother,” said Wijaq.
    “Are all ailments visible to your eye? After so little time in our company, can you diagnose the sick with a single glance?” The rasping voice sounded more amused than upset, though Wijaq was likely too new to recognize the difference. “Let the temple rejoice, for none have ever before come to us with such a gift. From this day forward, let this place be known as the Temple of Wijaq.”
    Wijaq bowed low, her face dark. Two other girls giggled behind her, the sound cut short by a glare from Mother Khardija.
    “Forgive me,” said Wijaq.
    “Don’t worry,” Talia whispered, trying not to smile. “Mother Khardija used to say far worse to me when I wore the black robe.”
    “Not that you ever listened.” Khardija beckoned Talia closer.
    Talia hurried up the path. She had forgotten Mother Khardija’s preternatural hearing. The woman could hear a patient coughing—or an acolyte gossiping—from the other side of the temple.
    Khardija put her hands on Talia’s shoulders and pulled her close. “You should not have come here,” she said softly. “Jahrasima isn’t safe.”
    “This wasn’t a planned visit, Mother Khardija.” Talia awkwardly returned the embrace. “The girl out front told me Faziya left the temple. I don’t understand. Why—”
    “Arathea has been troubled in recent times.” Khardija kissed her forehead, then stepped back. “Faziya . . . she believed she could best serve elsewhere.”
    “Faziya was the most devoted sister I ever met.”
    “We can talk of this later. You need food and rest.”
    “Thank you,” said Talia. “We’ll be away as soon as we can. My friends—”
    “Nonsense. You and your friends will stay as long as you need, and we will keep you safe, as before.” Khardija stepped back, glancing around to make sure nobody was nearby. “I knew you would return to us, but I wondered if I would live long enough to see it. Your time is soon, Princess.”
    Talia pulled away. “My time?”
    “To overthrow Queen Lakhim and reclaim your family’s throne,” said Khardija. “To take your place as ruler of Arathea.”

CHAPTER 8

    R OUDETTE’S SNARL YANKED SNOW INTO alertness. She sat up too quickly, groaned, and clutched her head. Beside her, Danielle was reaching for her sword.
    “It’s only Talia,” Snow said.
    “How can you tell?”
    Snow turned toward