Red Hood's Revenge

was something she could do. “Her skull was fractured in a fight. Ever since, using too much magic has caused her tremendous pain. These past days have been difficult for her.”
    “That’s dangerous,” said Faziya. “Injuries to the head are unpredictable. The damage can lay hidden for years. There are medicines that might ease the pain, but I wouldn’t suggest them. If she’s anything like you, masking the pain would only lead her to push herself further, doing more damage in the long run.”
    “She would,” Talia said. “But trying to get Snow to stop using magic is like trying to get you to leave the desert.”
    It was Faziya’s turn to blush. “So what will you do now? Even if Muhazil decides my curse was cast by a deev, they clearly don’t have any better idea than we do where to find Zestan.”
    Over the past several hours, Danielle, Snow, and even Roudette had come by to ask the same question. Talia gave Faziya the same answer she had given them. “I’m not sure.”
    “Liar.” She smiled, but her eyes were sad. “You’d never be so calm if you didn’t know what to do next. You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
    She knew better than to try to lie to Faziya. “You heard what the Wild Hunt has done to your people. If Rajil is any example, the fairies already hold sway in the cities. I can’t let Zestan take Arathea.”
    “I could come with you.”
    “You can barely walk!”
    Faziya took Talia’s arm, running her fingers up the sleeve until she touched the scar on Talia’s forearm. “You make a habit of collecting scars and broken bones. You could use an extra healer. I could take some of the burden off of your friend Snow.”
    “Any healer would tell you to stay behind until you’ve healed.”
    “Will you make Snow remain as well? You’ve always tried to protect me, as though I were some fragile butterfly who would be crushed by the slightest weight.” She stood and reached for the ties holding the tent flaps open. She glanced over her shoulder, her smile taking the edge from her words. “Maybe I should let you judge for yourself how recovered I am.”
    The front flap fell shut, and Talia’s breathing quickened. “This is Muhazil’s tent. Even if you were well, we shouldn’t—”
    “We’re guests of the tribe,” Faziya said. “His home is your home. To treat it otherwise would offend him.”
    Slowly, she reached out to loosen Talia’s hair. Her fingers trailed down the sides of Talia’s neck. Despite the heat, Talia shivered.
    Faziya drew back, a playful expression on her face. “I might need help getting out of these robes, though.”
    “You’re hurt.” Talia swallowed, forcing herself not to reach out. “I shouldn’t.”
    “I’m the healer. I’ll judge what’s best for my recovery.” Faziya laughed. “I love the way your voice goes deeper when your passions are roused.”
    Talia was fighting a losing battle, and she knew it. Not that she particularly wanted to win. “You’re certain you’re strong enough?”
    Faziya leaned close, her lips brushing Talia’s as she whispered, “There’s only one way to find out.”
     
    Roudette crossed the camp, ignoring the dogs that barked and followed at a distance. Only when one approached too closely did she turn to face it. She said nothing, simply staring into his eyes until he yelped and fled.
    The rest continued to bark, albeit from a safe distance. When she reached Snow and Danielle, she said only, “Muhazil has emerged.”
    Muhazil and an older Kha’iida woman were already talking to Talia by the time Roudette and the others arrived.
    Roudette sniffed the air and smirked as she entered the tent. Talia and Faziya had clearly put the afternoon to good use. She winked at Talia, who stiffened and pretended to ignore her.
    “Your knife is hundreds of years old,” Talia was saying to Muhazil. Her hair was loose and disheveled. Faziya lay sleeping on one of the mats behind her. “Its magic might have faded, or perhaps Zestan has found a way to mask her magic. The curse was cast by a Jinniyah, using Zestan’s power. She might have tainted whatever magical tracks you’re searching for.”
    Muhazil turned to the seer. “Turz?”
    “Possibly,” said Turz. She was an older woman who still looked strong enough to haul everything she owned halfway across the desert on her back without stopping to rest. Her black hair had the same reddish tinge Roudette had seen on some of the other Kha’iida women. “With the