Red Hood's Revenge

their prey.”
    “So how do you survive?” asked Danielle.
    Roudette bared her teeth. “Become the hunter, not the prey.”
     
    Talia found Mother Khardija in the garden, working by the light of the moon to pinch undersized blooms from a row of fire lilies.
    “Everything we grow serves one of two purposes,” she said as Talia entered. “Food or medicine. Food we can buy in the market if we must, but medicine . . .” She turned in a slow circle. “Should anything happen to this garden, it would take months to regrow. Do we harvest everything tonight, though many of the plants are too young, or do we leave them alone and hope no harm comes to them?”
    Talia crouched by a small flower with long orange leaves. “How many people have you treated for addiction to ruquq leaf? Leave those plants unguarded, and every flower will be stolen before nightfall.” She stood. “Harvest the plants that would do harm in the wrong hands. As for the rest, take enough to see you through four days. That gives you time to contact the other temples, and they can send what medicines you need.”
    “A wise solution, Princess.” Mother Khardija’s smile made Talia suspect she had already decided to do exactly as Talia suggested. “Arathea has need of such wisdom.”
    “What wisdom is there in waiting here to die?” Talia asked. “The Wild Hunt will kill you if you stay.”
    Khardija sighed. “Jenx el-Barhud is four years old. He was burned in a fire three nights ago. Here we can use salves and potions to keep him asleep, but the slightest movement cracks open the wounds.” She turned, peering at the wall of the garden as though she could see through the bricks to the people beyond. “In room three a Kha’iida woman named Risha lies motionless, her back broken in two places. The journey here left her paralyzed. To move her again risks her death. There are others in similar conditions. Would you have me abandon them to the Hunt?”
    “You can’t protect them all,” Talia protested.
    “Perhaps. There are stories in which the Hunt spares those with the courage to face them.”
    “No.” Talia stood, fighting the urge to shake her. “You can’t trust your life to a story.”
    Mother Khardija brushed her hands together, signaling the end of a conversation. “How is your leg?”
    “I’m fine. Snow stitched the cut.”
    “And your friend, the one who was bitten?”
    Talia sighed. “She’s not my friend, and she tended her own wound.”
    “Animal bites are particularly dangerous,” Khardija said. “Ask one of the sisters for a poultice of—”
    “Why did Faziya leave the temple, Mother?”
    She turned away. “You know the temple requires no oaths. Anyone is free to leave at any time. Your friend is Kha’iida. It’s in her nature to wander.”
    It stung to think Mother Khardija would lie to her. “Faziya spent eight years of her life in this temple. This was her home. The only time she left was to attend church.”
    “There are aspects of fairy beliefs that always appealed to her.”
    “I know.” How many times had they fought over Faziya’s loyalty to the fairy church? “She saved my life, Mother. You healed my body, but she’s the one who helped me to find myself.”
    “By turning you into a criminal,” snapped Mother Khardija. “Pranks in the kitchen are one thing, but Faziya and her rebel friends nearly got you killed.”
    “I was already dead,” Talia answered. “Those people gave me a reason to live.”
    “So Faziya explained each time she brought you back to me,” said Khardija. “Each time I had to bind your wounds and set your bones. For what? Burning down one of the raikh’s warehouses? Robbing a royal caravan? You are a princess of Arathea, but you behaved like the petty nobles who snarled and fought over the bones of our land for the past hundred years, lashing out in anger and destruction with no larger goal until that anger threatened to consume you.”
    “These people were the closest thing I had to a family,” Talia protested.
    Mother Khardija brought one hand to her neck, massaging the pressure points to either side. “They were thieves and murderers.”
    “We fought Lakhim—”
    “Your petty crimes were nothing more than the bite of a fly. Do you know why Queen Lakhim fears you? It’s more than your curse. More than her need to avenge her son. She fears your power.” Rarely had Talia heard such urgency in Mother Khardija’s voice. She used this tone only when