Red Hood's Revenge

tribes destroyed. Talia took another sip of coffee, trying to match his composure. Inside, she was shaking. Five tribes meant hundreds, probably thousands of people. “Father Uf’uyan didn’t say it had been so bad.”
    “The cities pay little attention to the desert these days,” Muhazil said.
    “A mistake that could destroy us all,” answered Talia.
    Muhazil leaned forward, setting his cup on the ground. “How so?”
    “The Wild Hunt serves a fairy called Zestan-e-Jheg. We believe Zestan is deev.”
    “Impossible.” Muhazil started to rise.
    “If that were truly impossible, there would be no need for your oath.” Talia looked out at the valley. “You’ve heard the sounds of the Wild Hunt these past nights. What lesser fairy has the power to command them?”
    “You think we haven’t considered the possibility?” Muhazil repeated the flicking motion. “The Kha’iida guard Arathea, following the paths of our forefathers to ensure that none of the gates have been opened. Our seers watch for any omen of the deev’s return. When the attacks began, we increased our vigilance. No deev has escaped.”
    “That you know of. But why else would she target your people? Which tribe was the first to fall to the Hunt? Perhaps they had discovered evidence of Zestan’s escape.”
    “We retraced their paths. There was no such evidence.” Muhazil turned toward the right. To the south, she realized. Toward the mountains of the peri. “For generations we have told stories of the deev. Older children frighten their siblings with tales of deev who lurk in the shadows.” A twist of his lips made Talia suspect he had been one of those younger siblings. “Tell me, have you seen this deev? Or are your fears based on nothing more than shadows and stories? Fairy magic is deceptive. Could it be this Zestan wishes you to believe she is deev, to spread fear throughout the cities?”
    Faziya leaned forward. “I spent a month in Rajil’s garden, cursed by Zestan’s magic. Draw your knife. Let it taste the curse in my blood.”
    Muhazil frowned. “You are a guest here, child. Do not presume—”
    “ I presume.” Talia stood. “You swore an oath to protect this land. So did my father, Hakim Malak-el-Dahshat. As princess of Arathea, I call on you to fulfill that oath.”
    Muhazil studied her a long time. “Talia Malak-el-Dahshat. For years we have heard rumors of your fate. Please sit. I will listen to what you say, but I can promise nothing.”
    Slowly, Talia lowered herself to the ground. “Faziya faced the raikh of Jahrasima in her own mansion to try to help the Kha’iida.”
    Muhazil blinked. “Not the wisest strategy.”
    “Not at all,” Talia agreed, earning a glare from Faziya. “My point remains. She is Kha’iida. She deserves your respect and your aid.”
    “Queen Lakhim has offered a reward for your return,” Muhazil said.
    Talia smiled. “Then I’m fortunate you too are Kha’iida, and would not betray the hospitality of a guest.”
    That earned a laugh. “Very well, Princess. I will indulge your fears.” He reached into his robe and pulled out a small, bone-handled knife. The blade was a flat shard of crystal, vivid green and shaped as perfectly as Danielle’s sword.
    Faziya extended her hand, flinching only slightly as Muhazil cut her palm. He pressed the flat of the blade against her hand, coating the knife in her blood.
    Talia clenched her fists. Every drop of blood weakened Faziya further. How much did the knife need?
    Finally, Muhazil withdrew the knife. Talia ripped off her scarf and pressed it to Faziya’s palm. Faziya was pale, but watched without blinking as Muhazil held the blade to the light.
    He frowned and brought the knife closer. “Strange.”
    “Is the curse deev?” Talia asked.
    “Were it deev, the blood would smoke at the touch of the crystal,” Muhazil said. His tongue flicked out, tasting the blood. He winced and moved it away. “Blade and blood are hot. Almost hot enough to burn.”
    “Which means what?” Talia asked.
    “I don’t know.” He held the knife in both hands. “There is magic here. More powerful than any mere fairy.” He bowed to them both. “I will talk to our seer.”
    “If the curse is deev, will you help us to find the one responsible?” Talia asked.
    “We are sworn to fight the deev,” he said. “But whatever foe you face, this magic did not come from one of the cursed race. I’m sorry, Princess.”

CHAPTER 18

    T ALIA SAT IN THE