Red Hood's Revenge

poor fig tree, you know.”
    “Mother Khardija made that very clear as she was spelling out my punishment.” Talia walked over to retrieve the knife.
    “So you’ll kill Zestan. And then the Wild Hunt will take you away from me.”
    Talia flicked her fingers. “Who knows? Maybe with Zestan gone, whatever hold she has over them will dissolve, and they’ll simply move on.”
    “You don’t believe that.”
    Talia said nothing. Faziya would only see through the lie.
    “Are you coming or not?” Roudette shouted.
    Talia tucked the knife away and extended her hands. “What will you do now?”
    “I’m not sure.” Faziya’s eyes shone, but Kha’iida were taught early not to cry. The body’s water was too precious to waste on tears. She looped the rope around Talia’s wrists. “I spoke to my father.”
    “Your father is still alive? You never said—”
    “Until Muhazil rescinded my banishment, he couldn’t even acknowledge me as his daughter.” Faziya stepped close, her good arm snaking around Talia’s waist. “Thank you for that.”
    Talia closed her eyes, indulging herself just one moment longer. Then Roudette shouted again, and the moment passed. She waited for Faziya to finish tying the rope, then tested her bonds. They were tight, but she should be able to slip free.
    “Wait,” Faziya said. “Do you remember what you told me at the docks five years ago?”
    Some memories were so clear she could have painted them. “You made me promise to return. Faziya, I can’t—”
    “I know.” Faziya stepped around to kiss her. “Give me the lie.”
    Talia brushed her fingertips over Faziya’s face. “I promise.”
    Without another word, Faziya turned away. Talia started to say more but caught herself. This wasn’t Lorindar, and farewells were for strangers.
     
    Talia did her best to maneuver the waterskin with her bound hands. Roudette had also tied a loop of rope around Talia’s neck, no doubt in part to repay her for leashing Roudette back at the mansion. The rope was tight enough to make swallowing uncomfortable, but she managed to take a drink, then handed the skin back to Roudette.
    “We’d make faster time if we’d taken the horses,” Talia said.
    Roudette gulped down most of the remaining water. Even in the night air, she was sweating beneath her hood. “Horses don’t like me.”
    “Do you even remember what it was like to be human?” Talia asked.
    “Yes.” Roudette shouldered the waterskin and increased her pace. They had no destination. The only goal was to get as far from the Kha’iida camp as possible. “That’s why I chose to be more.”
    “You chose to be a killer. How many people have you murdered?”
    “This month?” Roudette glanced at Talia. “I kill fairies. I’d expect you to understand.”
    “You kill anyone, for the right price.” Talia raised her arms. “I have the scar from your attempt on Queen Beatrice.”
    Roudette smiled. “A glorious fight that was.”
    “You would have murdered a good woman.”
    “What did you do after my attempt on Beatrice?” Roudette didn’t wait for an answer. “You strengthened your magical protections. You set more guards to watch the walls. You prepared yourselves. That is my service. I made you stronger. You would spend your time trying to defend the weak, to help them feel safe in a world poised to devour them. I remind the weak to protect themselves.”
    “Is that what your grandmother wanted when she gave you that skin?” Talia asked.
    “Grandmother thought like you and your friends,” Roudette said, turning away. “She fought to protect us. As a result, my people lay down like sheep to be butchered by the Wild Hunt. Just as yours will.”
    “We’ll see.” Talia flexed her hands, testing the ropes again to see how easily she could escape and reach her weapons, both the iron knife she would use against Zestan and the second, smaller one she had hidden in her robe in case she failed. If her first blade failed to kill Zestan, the second would ensure Talia couldn’t be used against Arathea. The fairy curse wouldn’t work if Talia was dead.
    The first sign of the fairies was a distant light, like an oversized yellow firefly—a will-o’-the-wisp. As the light grew closer, Talia realized several of the creatures were flying together.
    “Don’t stare,” Roudette warned. “They’ll entrance you if you look too long.”
    The will-o’-the-wisps streaked over the desert, zipping about like animated torch