The Red Queen’s face darkened, and Kelsea felt something ruffle her hair, though the air was still.
“Be careful,” she said softly. “You do not want to open this box.”
The Red Queen stared at her for another long moment, then muttered a curse and turned back to the city.
“We’ve gained enough distance, Lady Crimson. Why don’t we just go our separate ways?”
“Well, you may if you like, Glynn,” the Red Queen replied. “But I would just as soon hold together until our paths diverge. Two women together are safer than one.”
That was certainly true, but Kelsea sensed the falsity behind the statement. They were no ordinary women, and the man who tried to rob or assault either of them would certainly regret it. The Red Queen was afraid of something else. Finn’s children, perhaps? They had seen no more of the horrible things since leaving the Palais, but Kelsea could think of nothing else that would frighten this woman, save perhaps for Finn himself. They had stopped several hours ago to rest and take some food and water, but the older woman had forbidden Kelsea to light a fire.
The Red Queen was rubbing her wrist again. In the stable, Kelsea had dressed the wound, washing it with water and wrapping a bandage. The two punctures were very deep, and they had already looked inflamed. Bite marks.
“What?”
The Red Queen had caught her staring. Kelsea turned away, looking across the landscape. They had finally left the broad, trimmed grass of the Champs Demesne behind. The ground beneath them had turned to high grassland, shot through with veins of silt. It was slightly better cover, but not the most comfortable place to spend the night.
“We should keep moving,” Kelsea said. “Where is it you mean to go in the end?”
“To the Dry Lands. There is nowhere else I can hide.”
“What about Cadare?”
“I can’t go to Cadare,” the Red Queen replied flatly.
“Well, I can stay with you until we cross the border. After that, I need to return to my city.”
“That’s fine,” the Red Queen replied, her voice unconcerned, and again Kelsea had the strange sense that the woman didn’t care where they went, so long as they went together.
What is she afraid of?
They rode southwest for the next several hours. When the sun touched the horizon, they stopped to rest within sight of the border hills. This far south, the land was not covered with pines, only grass and shrubs and occasional greenery. Boring landscape, but still Kelsea stared at her surroundings, fascinated. Less than fifty miles to the north, Hall had made his stand, and Ducarte had forced the Tear army off the hillside by setting the forest on fire. Even Kelsea, who would have liked to see Ducarte in a Tear prison for the rest of his life, had to admire the simplicity of the strategy: if your opponent would not be moved, you simply burned him down.
Dinner was another meal of cured meat and fruit. There was plenty of game around here, deer and rabbits, but the Red Queen had once again forbade Kelsea to light a fire.
“Did you ever try to kill him?” Kelsea asked. “Row Finn?”
“Yes. I failed. He’s not quite mortal. No shape; I couldn’t grab hold.”
Kelsea didn’t perfectly understand the Red Queen’s words, but she thought she had some idea. When she killed Arlen Thorne, she had been able to see to the core of him: not solid, but solid enough, limned in poisonous light, and a younger and angrier Kelsea, desperate over all the things beyond her control, had had no trouble gaining hold.
“Do you know how he became what he is?”
“The dark thing? In some ways. He used to speak of it, after—” Here the Red Queen paused, casting a furtive glance in Kelsea’s direction. “He used to say that he had forced his own survival. Almost bragging, I think. He used to teach me things.”
“How long were you up in the Fairwitch?”
“Two years. Long enough for all who knew me to think me dead.” Kelsea saw a brief flash of hatred in her eyes. “But you know this, Glynn. You know all about me.”
“Not all. I don’t see clearly. It’s like skimming a book. Why did your mother send you into exile?”
“She didn’t. I ran away.”
“Why?”
“None of your fucking business.”
Kelsea blinked, but persevered. “Did you learn magic from Finn?”
“Some. Enough that, when the time came, I was able to create my own. But not enough to ward off disaster.” The Red Queen frowned, and Kelsea noticed that she was rubbing her bandaged wrist again, working at it with her fingers.
“Does it hurt?” Kelsea asked.