Red Hood's Revenge

I will.”
    Snow sniffed and plucked the scarf from Talia’s hands. Snow did her best, but Talia had to show her how to properly pull the ends tight to keep the scarf’s edges from tugging loose. She fussed over Danielle the same way, then waited impatiently for Roudette to pull an oversized shirt and skirt over her cape.
    Snow cocked her head to the side. “You look . . . bulky.” Rags covered all of Roudette’s head save the left eye, which peeked out through a thin layer of gauzy cloth. “Can’t you carry that old cape instead of wearing it?”
    “You can take my cape once I’m dead,” Roudette said.
    “We should get moving,” Danielle said quickly, probably trying to stop Talia from commenting.
    Frogs croaked as they neared the lake. Snow stopped to crouch at the shore, studying the animals. The frogs preyed on the insects, and the glowing jaan hunted any frog foolish enough to stray from the damp rocks into the deeper water.
    “Get up and stop gawking,” Talia whispered. “You’re wounded, remember?”
    Snow paid little attention to the guards, allowing Talia to deal with them. Instead, Snow peered through lidded eyes as she tried to see the enchantments cast over the city. She had entered Fairytown upon several occasions, as well as spending time in Trittibar’s apartment in the palace, studying fairy magic. The power of this place was more muted than in Fairytown, but the magic was almost as strong. It would have to be, to maintain such a lake in the middle of the desert.
    Snow looked about as they walked through the city streets, trying to pinpoint the source of that power. If Jahrasima were built upon a fairy hill, every fairy with magical abilities would be able to draw upon that magic. Yet she couldn’t sense any source to the city’s magic. There was no ebb or flow, no currents of power.
    It reminded her of the fairy ring Charlotte’s sprite had created. The wards of the palace should have cut that sprite off from its magic, yet it had built the most powerful fairy spell Snow had ever witnessed, and it had done so with no obvious source of power. It was as though the sprite and Jahrasima both used an entirely new kind of fairy magic.
    She needed to talk to Trittibar or, better yet, to raid his library. Even if most of his books were doll-sized, there were lenses she could use to read them, and Trittibar’s collection included the most detailed histories she had ever encountered of ancient fairy magic going back to the days of the peri and the deev.
    Snow nearly bumped into Danielle when they finally reached the temple. She blinked and looked about as Talia led them inside. She spotted several women in black robes tending to patients in the yard, murmuring reassurances as they doled out medicine.
    The temple itself was built of mud bricks and cut stone, a style Snow had read about but never seen. Brown stone formed square support pillars set about ten paces apart. Between them, darker bricks filled in the walls.
    An older woman in a faded robe greeted them in the temple doorway, introducing herself as Mother Khardija.
    Danielle leaned toward Snow. “What’s she saying?”
    “Haven’t you been studying Arathean?” Snow whispered.
    “Which dialect?” Danielle made a sour face. “I’m doing the best I can, but between Arathean and Morovan and Sylan and Hiladi . . . I can introduce myself and ask for a translator, but not much more.”
    Khardija was already leading them down a wide hallway with no ceiling. Cats trotted along the tops of the walls. A lanky tom with spotted fur and long ears jumped down to rub against Danielle’s legs.
    “You see?” said Snow. “At least something here understands you.”
    Danielle scooped the cat into her arms. “What are they saying?”
    “Khardija is taking us to the back of the temple,” Snow translated. “She wants us hidden from casual visitors.”
    Khardija led them through a doorway in the inner wall. Oil lamps hung on the inside, illuminating a wide circular garden. Budding vegetables poked through fresh-tilled earth. Fruit trees bordered several paths, all leading to a small pool at the center. A pair of white ducks floated on the water, apparently asleep.
    Khardija hurried them along the path, but Talia stepped away, moving toward a small vineyard near the back wall. She spun, hands shaking. “I told you to burn these.”
    “I know,” Khardija said gently. “When you are queen, I’ll obey your commands. Until then, I lead