Red Hood's Revenge

flames. They moved in total silence, splitting into two groups and circling Talia and Roudette.
    Roudette growled and swung a fist at one that flew too close. Another bobbed around Talia’s head. Will-o’the-wisps were barely intelligent, about as smart as an average dog. This one seemed to have decided Talia was less dangerous than her companion, and was carefully keeping Talia between itself and Roudette.
    With a smile, Talia snapped a kick that sent it flying backward. Roudette chuckled as it crashed into the sand, light flickering. Slowly, it rose back into the air.
    The will-o’-the-wisps kept a safe distance after that.
    Talia flexed her foot. The impact had covered her sandal in glowing yellow powder, as fine as pollen. She dragged her foot through the sand, rubbing off the worst of it.
    The hounds were next, their howls carrying over the desert, making it sound as though they closed in from all sides.
    Roudette tightened her grip on the rope running to Talia’s neck. With her right hand, she drew a double-edged iron knife so long and thick it was practically a sword.
    “We’ve made no bargain yet.” Roudette rested the edge of the knife against Talia’s throat. “They may try to take you by force. Whatever happens, stay calm.”
    Talia fought to keep from moving. Snow’s curse wouldn’t allow Roudette to kill her, no matter how she might threaten. “Calm? Even if this works—even if we kill Zestan and lead the Kha’iida to her lair to destroy her minions—we’re unlikely to see another sunrise.”
    “You agreed to the plan,” Roudette pointed out.
    “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
    Roudette laughed softly. “I chose my path when I donned the wolf. Grandmother’s death showed me where that path would ultimately lead. I was too young to stop the Hunt then. You’ve given me another chance, and for that I thank you.”
    Roudette dragged Talia in front of her as the first of the hunters came into view. Not that Talia would be of much use as a shield. Fairy archers were said to be able to shoot the stinger from a wasp. But any impact would knock Roudette back, dragging her knife across Talia’s throat.
    The hunters rode through the sky upon a path of smoke and embers that appeared before them, vanishing after their passage. The riders themselves shone like moonlight. The rumble of the horses’ hooves sounded like distant thunder. Talia realized she was pressing against Roudette, her body instinctively retreating from the approaching hunters.
    “Few have witnessed the approach of the Wild Hunt and survived to tell of it,” Roudette said.
    “How comforting.” Talia sniffed. Roudette’s breath was foul, smelling of blood and raw goat. “I told you to leave the animals alone!”
    “The Kha’iida won’t miss just one.”
    Talia counted eight riders, only a small part of the Wild Hunt. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to watch the full Hunt thundering through the sky.
    Their garb was an eclectic mix. One man wore a helm fashioned from the skull of a young dragon. Another was naked from the waist up, his body painted in swirls of red. A third wore fur-lined garments and heavy boots.
    The lead rider raised a twisted horn to his lips. Talia heard nothing, but the hunters reacted instantly, spreading out to encircle their prey. The hounds filled in the gaps between the horses.
    “Say nothing,” Roudette whispered. To the hunters, she shouted, “I will bargain with Zestan-e-Jheg, and her alone.”
    The lead rider nudged his horse forward. White hair streamed behind him like a cape. He said nothing. Thinking back to the hunter at the temple, Talia wondered if they could speak at all. Will-o’-the-wisps bobbed behind him, as if peeking over his shoulders.
    Roudette dug her knife into Talia’s throat, and the rider stopped. A drop of blood tickled Talia’s neck. She hadn’t even felt the blade break the skin.
    “Your word as a fairy,” said Roudette. “You will deliver us safely to Zestan. Should we fail to reach an accord, you will return us to this spot and leave us in peace for one night. Those are my terms. Reject them, and I’ll spill her blood right here.”
    “The riders are human,” Talia whispered. “Not bound by fairy oaths.”
    “Their humanity died long ago. They are the Wild Hunt.”
    The hunter tilted his head in assent.
    Roudette sheathed her weapon. “Don’t try to run, Princess,” she said. “The dogs would bring you down before you took