Red Hood's Revenge by Jim C. Hines Read Free Book Online Page B

Without them, these trees are nothing but wood.” She glanced upward. “To be safe, I wouldn’t go waving an ax around or starting any fires, though.”
    “How much farther?” Talia asked.
    “We crossed the outer boundary of the grove just now. Didn’t you feel it? Like stepping through wet cobwebs. Centuries ago, they were strong enough to warn even the most magically blind away from this place.”
    Talia turned around, trying to make the motion as casual as possible. There had been a flicker of motion in the distance. The darkness turned every shape into a potential threat. A clump of leaves overhead could be a killer waiting in ambush. A fat stump could be Roudette herself, crouching with weapons drawn.
    “Malindar fought here,” Snow whispered. “He was young then, but already powerful.”
    Talia stepped over a fallen tree. “I care about that why?”
    “Talia, some say this is where the war between men and fairies started! Without Malindar, this whole isle might belong to the fairies. Malindar’s Treaty—”
    “Has nothing to do with finding Roudette. History lessons later.” Talia spun, searching the blackness behind them. A shadow the size of a large dog trotted through the trees. Talia switched her staff to her left hand and reached for a knife, but whatever it was didn’t appear interested.
    “Check on Charlotte again,” Talia whispered. “Make sure Roudette’s still with her.”
    “I’m sure.” Snow tapped her mirror. “It’s the old fairy magic making you jumpy.”
    “I am not jumpy.” Talia scowled at the darkness, jammed her knife back into the sheath, and moved on.
    The ground beneath her feet soon changed, taking on the feel of crushed stone. They reached another fallen tree, this one as wide as her outstretched arms. Talia crouched to pick up an acorn. She never would have known it to be stone without touching it. She pressed a hand to the tree, feeling the cold, heavy bark beneath her palm.
    “Even the insects within the wood,” Snow whispered, plucking a tiny stone ant from a hole in the side of the trunk. “Amazing.”
    Talia peered past the tree. She could make out a clearing ahead. She grabbed Snow’s sleeve, pulling her attention back to the task at hand. “Up there. Tell Trittibar.”
    Snow untied her pouch, leaving it open so Trittibar would be able to act. While Snow whispered to the fairy, Talia reached into her left boot and pulled out a flat leather sheath containing a pair of Hiladi throwing knives. The weapons were deadly, but they were a pain to carry. Not only were the blades razor sharp, but a second, smaller, blade jutted from the pommel. The crossguard was pointed as well, long enough to penetrate almost the length of Talia’s thumb. She untied the sheath and unfolded the flaps that protected the secondary points.
    She took one knife and held it against her staff with her left hand. The other she gripped with her right, pressing the blade to her wrist and tugging her sleeve forward to conceal it. Wordlessly, she and Snow approached the clearing, using the other trees for cover.
    Enormous stumps covered the earth ahead, the roots so thick they wove together, forming dark pits and caves. Charlotte sat in one such cave, bound and helpless as Snow had described her. Her head hung low, in either sleep or despair, Talia couldn’t tell.
    Behind her, perched atop the stone roots of a fallen oak, waited the Lady of the Red Hood. She held a short horn-tipped recurve bow, already drawn. So much for catching her off guard.
    “Princess Whiteshore?” Roudette moved the bow toward Talia. “I told you to come alone.”
    “I brought no guards,” said Snow, keeping to the safety of an old pine tree.
    Charlotte jerked awake. “Who’s there? Danielle?” There was no haughtiness in her words, only fear. Perhaps two years in Fairytown had broken her pride.
    Snow’s magic gave her Danielle’s voice but not her intonation or her patterns of speech. It wouldn’t take long