Red Hood's Revenge

SHADE OF MUHAZIL’S tent, watching a young boy flee from his older brother. The younger child had flung off his robes and giggled madly as he raced toward the pond wearing nothing but his sandals. He splashed into the water, only to be scooped up by his brother.
    Screams of delight changed to howls of protest, but the brother clearly had experience in these matters. He tossed the child into the air and caught him. A few more throws, and the boy was giggling once again.
    The rugs in the tent softened the approaching footsteps. Faziya lowered herself gently, folding her legs beneath her. She handed Talia a bowl of bread and fresh olives. “Eat.”
    Talia popped an olive into her mouth. She spat the pit into her hand and returned it to the bowl, never taking her eyes from the scene below.
    “I miss the desert sometimes,” Faziya said. “The open air. Water untainted by fairy magic. The sounds of the animals at night. The city is so crowded, so full of strangers.”
    “Yet you’ve stayed in Jahrasima.”
    Faziya stared down at the pond. “When I was a child, I watched my mother die of the siphon sickness. Over the course of a single season, her body withered away until she weighed as little as a child. She was tormented by thirst, but her body emptied itself of fluids as quickly as she could drink. I stayed with her, bringing water and anything else I thought might help. Nothing did. She grew more and more tired, until one day she simply failed to awaken. I thought if we had taken her to the Temple of the Hedge, she might have survived.”
    Talia placed a hand on Faziya’s back.
    “There is no cure for the siphon sickness,” Faziya said, her tone distant. “Having left the tribe, I was massim. A stranger. Many times during my first year at the temple I thought of setting out alone. There are tales of tribeless Kha’iida who wander the desert. But I discovered that even though I couldn’t have saved my mother, there was joy and purpose in saving others.”
    “For a long time after I arrived in Lorindar, I used to sneak down to try to use Snow’s magic mirror,” Talia admitted. “Every night I’d try to make it show me Arathea, just so I could see my home again.”
    “Did it work?”
    “No.” Talia smiled. “I grew so frustrated I threatened to smash the damn thing with an ax. I might have done it if Snow hadn’t caught me.”
    She turned to look at Snow and Danielle. With nothing to do while they waited for Muhazil and his seer, they had spent the afternoon helping with the animals. Danielle was helping, at any rate. Under her guidance, camels waited patiently to be milked. Snow was flirting with one of the shepherds, in between translating for Danielle. Snow’s Arathean was painful to Talia’s ear, but from the look on the shepherd’s face, he found her accent charming.
    Faziya leaned against her, head resting on Talia’s shoulder. “She’s beautiful, but isn’t she a little old for you?”
    Talia tensed and looked away, trying to make the movement a casual one. “Who do you mean?”
    “Don’t lie to me, my princess.” Faziya kissed her neck. “I know that look.”
    Talia sighed, her face burning. “Snow is younger than me, actually. Her age . . . it’s hard to explain. She and I aren’t—She was the first real friend I made in Lorindar. The only friend, for a long time.”
    “But nothing more?” Faziya asked.
    “No.”
    Faziya pulled away, appearing to weigh this information. “Good.”
    Talia smiled and returned her attention to Snow, giving up any pretense of subtlety. “Until last year, she thought I was simply too shy to talk about my liaisons with the men about the palace. Once she learned the truth . . . she’s Allesandrian. Her people are less tolerant about such things.”
    “So was Arathea, in olden times.” Faziya kissed her again. “Before the fairies led our society down the path of corruption and perversity.” She pulled away, mischief in her eyes. “That is what people in other lands say about us, is it not?”
    “Some of them,” Talia admitted. Compared to the dalliances of the fairy race, human couplings were relatively boring.
    “She doesn’t like me, does she?” Faziya was watching Snow and Danielle. “Danielle is pleasant to everyone, and your wolf friend doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, but Snow—”
    “She’s hurting.” Snow would be furious if she knew Talia was talking to Faziya, but Faziya was a trained healer. Perhaps there