The High Mountain Court (The Five Crowns of Okrith Book 1)

by AK Mulford

  “You handle him well, at least,” Heather said, eyeing the door. Remy hated the hint of disappointment in that statement, like Heather had resigned herself to Remy not heeding her warnings.

  “You see? I’ll be fine.” Remy feigned a smile. Heather shook her head, but Remy carried on. “You can’t travel like this. It will get you both killed. I must go on alone.”

  “I don’t like this.” Heather rubbed her hands over her tired face.

  “Neither do I, but you must admit that I can move at the pace of the fae and you two cannot,” Remy said with regret.

  “Remy . . .” Heather grabbed for Remy’s hands and squeezed them in her own. “I know these fae seem . . .”

  “Heather—” Remy chided.

  “I just need you to promise me you will be careful. I’ve known you since you were a girl,” Heather said. Her voice cracked and her eyes began welling up. “I’ve sworn my life to hide you and protect you.”

  “And you have, Heather, you have.” Remy pulled the woman into a tight hug. How familiar it felt to be wrapped in this woman’s arms. “Thank you. You have saved my life more times than I can count.” It was Remy’s turn to get choked up. “You are just as much my mother as the one who bore me, Heather.” She felt Heather’s muscles clench at that.

  This woman had been a mother to her. Heather had been so hard on Remy, working her to the bone, strict with keeping a low profile, always moving them from town to town . . . but she loved Remy. She loved her like a mother loves her daughter. That much was clear.

  “I will get to the Temple of Yexshire, and I will find the other red witches,” Remy said, wiping her eyes to keep any tears from spilling. She said it more to convince herself than her guardian. “You will find me there. This isn’t goodbye forever. It is just a short parting.”

  Heather bowed her head in acceptance. Pulling away from the hug, she wiped her cheeks. They both knew it was not a short parting. They may very well never see each other again. Remy still had to seek out the amulet of Aelusien and navigate her way to the Temple of Yexshire undetected. Both felt like impossible feats. But if there was any hope of success they needed to move with haste, and that would not happen with two sick brown witches holding them back.

  “Be safe, my darling,” Heather said, lifting a hand to Remy’s cheek in an act of tenderness she so rarely showed. “And do not trust anyone but yourself,” she warned her again.

  Remy looked away, moving to the bed. Fenrin puffed heavily through his mouth, but his eyes fluttered open as Remy sat beside him.

  “Remy,” he said with a weak smile.

  Remy grabbed a cloth from the bedside table and swept it across his sweaty brow.

  Fenrin pointed a crooked finger to the bedside drawer. “Open it,” he said.

  Pulling open the drawer, Remy lifted out a thimble-sized glass vial. Inside, it looked like shimmering silver glitter.

  “What is this?” She inspected the vial.

  “It’s for you,” Fenrin rasped. Remy looked to him, confused as he continued. “I traded for it two towns back. That is a vial of sand from Silver Sands Harbor. I know you wanted to see it, but I thought this might . . .”

  He stopped to cough, doubling over as he hacked. That hard lump seized Remy’s throat again.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, her voice strained with sorrow. She reached into her new riding tunic. Someone had already sewn a hidden pocket into it for her totem bag. Bri did not forget a single detail when she had outfitted Remy with a new wardrobe. Opening the small, black bag, Remy put the vial of sand inside.

  “I will carry it with me always,” she whispered.

  Fenrin gave her a weak, woeful grin.

  “It’s always been you and me against the world, Fen,” Remy said, her voice wobbling. “You are my best friend, and I will miss you while I’m gone.”

  “I’m sorry, Remy,” Fenrin said through pale, bloodless lips.

  “Sorry for what?” Remy asked, adjusting the pillow behind his head.

  Fenrin looked up to the ceiling with half-glazed eyes, “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you.”

  “Fen . . .” Remy couldn’t hide the torture in her voice.

  Part of her had always known he loved her as more than friends. He never pushed or cajoled her into anything, but she knew he had hoped. It was no wonder he got worked up into a rage any time a man paid her any attention. It was no wonder he ran off to tell Heather every time Remy had flirted with someone. They talked so often about their future lives, about the grand adventures they would one day go on in a world where red witches weren’t hunted and she didn’t have to hide. They had always been in that daydream of a future together. A sad and nasty feeling twisted itself in Remy’s gut at that admission, that her best friend thought he was not enough for her. He probably thought that she needed a life and a partner grander than he could ever be, someone like a prince. She felt the bitter taste of Fenrin’s disappointment.

  He knew how his words pained her, but he waved them off, his hand sitting on Remy’s arm.

  “Go have an adventure for me.” His laugh came out more as a wheeze and sent him into a coughing fit. Remy patted his back in hard blows to help dislodge whatever was rattling around inside his chest.

  Hale returned with Carys behind him. “Your minute is up. Let’s move.”

  Carys grabbed the bags scattered around the room, while Heather grabbed her bottles off the bedside. Hale moved to lift Fenrin from the bed.

  “I can walk.” Protesting with all his energy, Fenrin sat up.

  “No, you can’t.” Hale scooped Fenrin into his arms.

  Even though Fenrin was well over six feet tall, Hale dwarfed him in muscle. Hale picked Fenrin up as if he were a feather, and they hastened out of the room. Now that they had the High Mountain talisman, they needed to flee Ruttmore.

  Chapter Fourteen

  They moved Heather and Fenrin across the river with haste, setting them up in a third-floor apartment overlooking the other side of the river. It was a full apartment, with a kitchen, bathing room, sitting room, and bedroom. It was far better than any lodgings they had ever stayed in before. They left bags of food on the kitchen table, rapidly acquired by the Eagles on orders from Carys. Before they departed, the prince set a bag of gold on the table. Heather protested, but Hale waved her off.

  Their hugs were brief and their goodbyes fleeting. They had already said their true goodbyes at the inn.

  By the time they reached the landing, Remy was clenching her jaw so hard she thought she might break it. It kept the tears from falling, at least. She hated this goodbye. Even more upsetting was the inevitability. She felt like she knew from the moment Hale grabbed her wrist in the Rusty Hatchet. An electric shock still coursed through her as she thought about it. Deep in her bones, she knew he was the start of a new adventure. She only wished she knew how it would all end.

  “You okay?” Hale said in a deep, soft voice. He stood so close to her she felt the heat from his arm.

  “I’m fine,” Remy gritted out. She did not want to indulge her sadness. There was no time to cry. They had to get out of this town before Abalina came looking for them, or, worse, Renwick’s blue witches discovered he had won a fake ring.

  “Liar.” Hale smirked, causing Remy to stifle a laugh. It was that obvious, then.

  She took a deep breath. “That bag of gold will take care of them for years. There’s no way I can thank you enough . . .”

  “Try,” Hale teased.

  Remy met his gaze finally, and he was grinning at her, his gentle taunting an attempt to cheer her up.

  “Let’s move,” Bri interrupted as she and Carys descended the tight stairwell behind them.

  Talhan stood outside, holding the reins of the first of five horses, the others hitched to a post. The male fae had unbuckled their packs along the midline strap, bisecting them into two messenger bags that sat on either side of the horses’ flanks. Remy stared at the new pack loaded with clothes that Bri had b
ought for her. She had not realized they could break them down into two parts so they were weighted for riding. Her old pack had been one big leather sack with shoulder straps attached.

  Remy’s new pack sat on a caramel brown mare.

  She stared at the horse for a beat before Hale said, “You don’t know how to ride, do you?”

  Remy shook her head. They had walked most of the way from the Western Court, occasionally hitching rides in carriages and wagons.

  Talhan cursed himself. “Sorry, I just assumed. I should have known.” He moved the two packs off the front black horse and onto Remy’s mare.

  “What are you doing?” Remy asked as the warrior loaded up the caramel horse.

  “You’ll ride with me,” Hale said.

  Remy opened her mouth to protest, but Bri let out a low whistle. Everyone froze. It was a warning sound. They followed Bri’s gaze across the river. At first Remy didn’t see it, but then she spotted the inn, so far upstream that it was a mere speck.

  “What is it?” Remy whispered, as if whoever they were watching could hear them from all that way.

  “Northern guards,” Carys whispered back. “Six of them. They don’t look like they’ve come for drinking.”

  “We’ve got to move. Now,” Talhan said.

  In the same moment, Hale grabbed Remy around her waist and lifted her onto his horse. She clung to the horn of the saddle as the horse shifted. Remy was certain it leaned so far to the side that she would topple off, but then the horse shifted back to an even weight. Hale mounted the horse with ease and settled in the saddle behind her. Every part of his front pressed into her back. Her thighs pushed into the solid muscles of his, her back felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, and her bottom pressed right back into his pelvis . . . Remy gulped. She couldn’t think about it.

  “Hang on,” Hale whispered into her ear. That fluttering breath sent tingles through her entire body. But those warm tingling thoughts flew out of her mind as the horses moved.

  The hard toe of a boot poked into Remy’s back.

  “What, here? Seriously?” Remy hissed at the owner of the boot interrupting her first rest in several days.

  They had spent three days traveling nonstop through the humid Southern jungles. The surrounding nature was so different from the Western Court. The jungle thrived with stinging, thorny plants, spiders the size of dinner plates, and swarms of biting insects. The trails were so overgrown with thick vines that they had to take turns slicing through the trail to make way for the horses. Remy had volunteered her magic for clearing the path ahead because her hips and thighs ached from riding in the saddle. Walking was easier, even with the constant casting of magic to push back the foliage. Walking also provided some distance from Hale. They hadn’t seen another soul for several days; if they were lucky anyone trailing them had gotten lost or gone the other way.

  Remy had heard Bri rise from her bedroll behind her and had prayed that the fae warrior only needed to relieve herself, but no, here she was, fully dressed and ready to train.

  “Yes, training doesn’t only happen when it’s convenient.” Bri kept her voice both quiet and threatening.

  “We didn’t train in Ruttmore,” Remy grumbled into her arm.

  “And I’m sure you’re already weaker for it.” That insufferable boot poked at her back again.

  Remy reached for her bow on her pack above her. Careful to avoid Carys’s sleeping body in front of her, Remy swung it back, colliding with Bri’s leg.

  The warrior above her chuckled, “You see? If you were training, you might actually be able to knock me over. Let’s go.”

  “It is too hot, Bri, please.” Remy felt like a child when Heather would try to drag her out of bed.

  “That’s why we’re training before the sun rises,” Bri said.

  Remy peeked her eyes open at that. It was still dark. The faintest glimmer of light was lifting through the dense foliage. Remy pulled the thin piece of fabric up tighter to her chin. She would have forgone the blanket, but there were too many bugs in this place and she was getting eaten alive in her sleep.

  Remy sat up on one elbow and looked over their stack of packs to the Eastern Prince sleeping on his side. His hair had fallen into his eyes, his breathing slow and heavy. He looked so different without that constant tension in his body. His jaw muscles weren’t tight, his shoulders relaxed. Remy liked this version of him. She had peeked at him in his sleep often these past three days.

  They hadn’t spoken more than two words to each other since leaving Ruttmore. She could only assume it meant that Hale regretted the way they acted the night of the card game. They had gotten carried away in the Southern Court. They fell too hard into their act. The pendulum of Remy’s emotions regarding the Eastern Prince swung violently between needing to get far away from him and needing to be as close to him as possible.

  “C’mon.” Bri nudged Remy again. “We won’t be able to train as much once we reach the Eastern Court tomorrow. We need to get at least one session in before you lose all the muscle I have worked so hard to build.”

  Remy snorted at the word “I”. Bri took credit for Remy’s muscles now too.

  They had three more days of trekking through the jungles before they would reach the port town of Westdale on the banks of the Crushwold River. It would have taken them less time if they had gone on the main road, but Hale had insisted they stay hidden in case Northern soldiers came looking for them. Once they crossed the Crushwold River, they’d be in the Eastern Court, and Renwick wouldn’t be able to confront them there.

  The snapping of branches came from up ahead. Remy looked over to Talhan’s empty bedroll and then to the sound of the jungle shifting. He muttered soft curses as he moved back toward the campsite.

  “Hear anything?” Bri called to her twin.

  Talhan burst through the thick jungle, looking like he had battled a monster to get to them.

  “Yeah,” he panted. “They’re okay.”

  Remy sat up then, tiredness leaching from her body at those words.

  “You spoke to Heather and Fenrin?” she asked, hopefully. Remy had been nagging at them every day to contact someone by fae fire to check on her friends. It seemed Talhan had finally relented.

  She thought about using the red witch’s candle in the outer pocket of her new saddlebag. She could use it to contact Heather, but then that would be it. The witch’s candle worked only once. Remy had thought about using that candle so many times over the years. She thought about lighting it and calling for her parents or for her siblings in some lost hope that one of them had survived the Siege of Yexshire. But that sad, mourning voice in her head had always told her that no one would answer and it would waste her candle.

  “I spoke to Neelo,” Talhan said. Remy’s eyebrows shot up. Talhan communicated with the Heir of Saxbridge? “They sent some of their guards to check in on Heather and Fenrin.”

  “And?” Remy asked, trying to mask the eagerness in her voice.

  “Fenrin has nearly healed. Resting for three days has done him a lot of good.” A knot loosened in Remy’s chest. Fenrin was okay.

  The bottle of silver sand from Fenrin was tucked away in Remy’s totem bag along with the Shil-de ring. The further the distance between them, the more Remy missed her companions.

  “And Heather?” Remy sat up and pulled on her boots. She had slept in her riding clothes because they were thicker and protected her legs from biting insects.

  “Heather has taken ill,” Talhan said but added, “but she is doing well, not nearly as sick as Fenrin was. She told the guards she would be healed within the next few days.”

  “Good.” Remy began to smile but paused at the expression on Talhan’s face. “What else?”

  Talhan kicked at the jagged vine in front of him, reluctant to speak.

  “Heather told the guards that they would head back to the West when she was recovered.” Talhan’s usually cheerful disposition seemed withdrawn at those words, like he was waiting
to see how Remy would respond.

  Carys spoke, head buried in her bedroll.

  “You know I care for both of them,” she grumbled. “But we can talk about it in another three hours. If you all don’t shut up right now, I’m going to grab one of those yellow snakes and impale you on its fangs.”

  Talhan chuckled, kicking off his boots and lying on his bedroll. It surprised Remy he woke so early to check in on her friends. Their friends, she supposed now. It was clear the fae had taken a liking to the brown witches too. And now they knew they would probably never see them again.

  Remy waited to move until she was sure she would not reveal the pain in her eyes. Heather and Fenrin were returning to the Western Court, not following them east. It made sense. In her logical brain, Remy knew it would be safer for them in the West. It was their homeland, after all. And perhaps one day they would make it to Yexshire and find her again. But Remy and the Eastern fae warriors still needed to get the amulet of Aelusien. Climbing Mount Aelusien, the Rotted Peak, would be dangerous. Part of Remy was glad her friends did not want to come. She would be more worried about them on those magical slopes than finding the High Mountain talisman. Remy wondered, too, if they didn’t follow because of what Fenrin had told her. That tinge of regret struck her again. She had messed it all up. Hiding her had taken over their entire lives, and she had never repaid them for it. Indeed, she had led Fenrin on and dismissed Heather’s warnings. She had let them both down.

  As if sensing some of that sorrow, Bri grabbed Remy by the forearm and pulled her to a stand.

  “Training,” she said as if it were the answer to everything, pulling Remy down the trail to practice.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Remy had never been on a boat before. She held onto the banister with a white-knuckled grip as the creaky wooden barge crossed the Crushwold River. Behind her sat the Southern Court, and so far in front of her that it was a dot on the horizon were the shores of the Eastern Court. The stench of the humid Southern jungles still clung to her skin. The last week had been a grueling slog. The cool river breeze should have been a relief . . . but not while on a wildly rocking boat.