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

by AK Mulford

  “At least we don’t have to meet with him alone,” Remy said, grasping for a positive.

  “At least there will be excellent food and drinks.” Carys leaned into Remy, her voice brightening. “And we can go to the high road tomorrow and buy too-expensive dresses and charge it to Hale’s account.”

  “Am I to wear a dress like the one in Ruttmore again?” Remy grimaced. The idea of parading around not only in front of the Eastern Court but the King himself in nothing but a slip of fabric made her queasy.

  “Gods, no.” Carys laughed. “If anything, we’ll try to cover you up as much as possible.” Remy narrowed her eyes at Carys, forcing her to continue. “Oh, don’t give me that look. I don’t need to tell you that you are the most beautiful witch I have ever seen and that red dress nearly lit every male in the room on fire.”

  Remy smirked. She did need to hear it.

  “But tomorrow will be a different game entirely,” Carys said, cocking her head.

  “How so?”

  “Ruttmore was about drawing every eye to you. Now, we want them to not see you for what you really are.”

  Remy looked to Carys, rubbing her hands nervously down her legs. “And what am I?”

  “You are a weapon,” Carys said. “And many of those greedy fae will want to possess you for themselves. We don’t want them seeing you as a powerful red witch, and we definitely don’t want the King to see how important you are to Hale. I wouldn’t be surprised if Hale avoided you entirely the whole night.”

  There it was again. Even Carys could tell that Remy was important to Hale, though she didn’t say how. Remy wished they could lay it all bare, these words and half-spoken truths. She wished she could be who she really was and not hide her powers anymore.

  “Right,” Remy said, shucking off her shoes. “Let’s get some sleep. We have a big day of shopping tomorrow.”

  Carys’s face split into a wide, white-toothed grin.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The palace was beautiful in the twilight. Magical shadows danced along the walls of Wynreach castle. Strings of golden-tipped leaves covered the stairs up to the palace’s giant wooden doors. Two pumpkin lanterns framed each step. Carved in intricate details, the pumpkins drew lingering views by courtiers, who stopped to examine them at each step.

  Witches celebrated the Autumnal Equinox, too, but nothing like this. They lit candles, feasted on the last of the summer crops, and cast spells of resiliency for the coming winter months. Winding down into the winter, it was a time when they prepared to hibernate along with the rest of the forest creatures. But the fae celebrated differently. Everything was big, loud, and decadent in the fae world.

  The Eastern Court preferred to wear deep jewel tones, nothing like the riot of colors in the Southern Court or the neutral earthy colors of the West. Carys looked resplendent in a sleeveless, emerald-green gown. It hugged her body like a glove down to the knee, then fanned out into a mermaid tail. Wearing her hair up in intricate braids, she had taken hours of the afternoon to perfect them. She had to raise her hem at every step so as not to trip herself from her tight dress, but she looked stunning. Standing next to her, Remy was sure she would be invisible.

  Remy wore a plum purple gown that matched many of the shades of purple worn by other courtiers. Purple was the patron color of the Eastern Court in honor of their violet witches, though that coven of witches was all gone now. Her dress had a modest scoop neck and three-quarter length sleeves. She wore small hoops under her dress to create a bell-shaped skirt. Wearing all that scaffolding, Remy had no sense how close she could get to things before her skirts would bump into them. She much preferred riding leathers. Her hair cascaded down her left side, pulled back with an elegant silver clip on the right. She had let Carys re-do her makeup, and the female fae did a much better job of making her look elegant rather than garish.

  As they took another step, a pair of fine leather boots came into view.

  “You look good.” An amused voice came from above them.

  They looked into the face of Bri. Bri wore a teal tunic detailed with delicate golden lace and merlot-colored trousers. The golden cuffs at the tips of her fae ears brought out the molten gold in her kohl-lined eyes. She looked incredible and eccentric. Remy smirked. She could never imagine Bri in a dress.

  “Thank you.” Carys demurred with a mocking bow. “I am sure I will capture the eye of every male in there.”

  “And many of the females too.” Bri winked with a cocky grin. She turned her golden eyes to Remy. “You look good as well,” she said. “Except you need one more thing.”

  From behind Bri’s back, she produced a black leather belt. Suspended from it was a steel scabbard and the hilt of a small dagger.

  “A gift for you,” she said, handing it to Remy. Painted red lips parting, Remy ran her fingers over the hilt. Swirling constellations and bursting golden stars etched every inch of its silver. On the other side was a shining sun, radiating beams of gold down into the sheath.

  Remy grasped the hilt in the way Bri had taught her. It fit the size of her hand perfectly. The blade was the perfect weight and sharpened so finely that even the lightest touch would draw blood. It was lovely and lethal—like this castle, like Hale.

  “This is mine?” Remy whispered, running her eyes over the blade again.

  “You’ve been training hard,” Bri said. “You deserve your own weapon. Careful with that, though.” She warned. “People will think it’s decorative, but it’s as deadly as anything.”

  Remy beamed at the female warrior, her friend. She would treasure this gift forever.

  “Thank you.” Remy bit her cheek to keep the emotions from overwhelming her. Bri simply shrugged as if it were nothing.

  “Put it on!” Carys urged with an excited squeal.

  Remy sheathed the dagger and grabbed the belt. She buckled it to her waist, the scabbard sitting off her body from the hoops of the skirt. It sat at the perfect height, her forearm skimming the hilt at her hip. She felt a lot less exposed wearing the dagger.

  “Ready to enter the lion’s den?” Bri asked, crossing her arms as she looked to the belt around Remy’s waist.

  Remy looked at the two giant stone lions sitting guard on either side of the massive doorway into the grand hall. The lion was the prominent feature of the Eastern Court crest. She noted more hints of the lion motif: lions’ heads, wild manes, and paw prints carved into the doors in the same style as the carvings on the doors throughout Wynreach.

  Remy shifted back and forth, wanting to pace at the sight of the sentinels ahead of her. A steady flow of courtiers kept passing them on the stairs, most of them not even stopping to look at the three of them. It was a good sign that they weren’t interesting enough to be noticed.

  “No, not really,” Remy responded. She took a deep breath.

  “Me neither,” Carys said, wrapping her arm around Remy’s and pulling her forward. “Let’s go find the wine.”

  Dazzling splashes of burgundy, ginger, and gold decorated the grand hall. Food tables ran the entire right-hand length of the enormous room. A feast lay across it, with cornucopia centerpieces dotted along them. The grand space smelled of spiced meats and warm cider, and a twelve-piece orchestra played on a balcony above the feasting tables. The rest of the space opened out to the horde of guests. Dancers carved out a wide circle in the crowd with dozens of couples twirling to the light music. At the far end of the hall sat the dais where King Norwood presided.

  The ruler’s dark mahogany armrests curled into lion’s claws with the giant head of a roaring lion cresting the top. King Gedwin Norwood sat rigidly on his throne. Looking nothing like what Remy had imagined, he had silvery white hair and black, sunken eyes under large bushy eyebrows. He was so lean, he looked sickly. His cheeks hollowed out, his frame drowning in a giant black velvet coat. His long, knobby fingers grasped the arms of his throne. He was the opposite of Hale, wholly grim and devoid of life.

  Beside the throne sat a wooden
chair with purple upholstered cushions. A plump, blonde-haired woman perched on it, frowning. Remy assumed that was the queen. She looked much younger than Hale’s father, wearing a jaded, morose expression.

  She did not smile from her thin-lipped mouth like the two blond-haired young men standing to her left. They had short, blunt noses, plump cheeks, and rounded jaws. Their blond hair was in stark contrast to their black eyes. Those must have been Hale’s younger brothers, Belenus and Augustus. The younger one twirled a purple flower in his hand. Crushing a petal with his thumbnail, he sniffed it in a sinister way that made the hairs on Remy’s arms stand up. Hale did not stand beside his father’s throne. He must have been mingling through the crowded hall.

  Remy searched the room, her eyes landing on Hale. His eyes darted away from her gaze as soon as it landed on him. He looked magnificent. He wore a high-necked, cinnamon brown jacket that matched the highlights of his hair. A hint of a white shirt peeked through the intricate wooden clasps of his jacket. The tailored clothes suited him, but it was the way he stood, the pompous way he rested his fist on his hip and waved his glass of wine about as he spoke that made him look like a handsome stranger. His larger-than-life persona was befitting of a crown prince in his home court.

  Talhan stood to his right. His laughter boomed over the music as Hale regaled a gaggle of gray-haired females with a story. Hale cut a quick glance to her and then looked away again. That was all the recognition he would give her.

  “Drinks,” Carys said, steering Remy with ease through the shifting assembly.

  Remy distracted herself with food and drink. The sight of so many fae faces made her pulse quicken. What would they do if they knew who she was? Most of them ignored her. She caught a few curious glimpses, but they were fleeting. She released a scant breath as she popped a grape into her cheek.

  Bri grabbed a whole turkey leg, eating it with little decorum. Carys drank a whole glass of wine in one gulp and grabbed another. She’d be fine as long as she stayed wedged between these two and avoided any notice from the King.

  A flaxen-haired female walked in front of the hungry trio, her eyes snagging on Bri. The golden-eyed warrior smirked at the beautiful courtier and gave her a wink. The female blushed furiously and stormed away. Carys pulled her mouth away from her goblet just long enough to chuckle.

  “Hello.” A grating, nasal voice came from behind her.

  Remy turned from the table and looked up into the mocking smirk of one of Hale’s brothers. The taller one, he couldn’t have been more than twenty. She tried to recall which one he was. The elder was Belenus, she believed. The thin gold circlet he wore had blurred into his blond hair when he stood on the dais. Remy stared at him as he gave her a look of dissatisfaction. She felt Carys’s foot dip under her large skirts and stomp on her toe and understood.

  She was supposed to bow. Remy had only bowed to Hale once, before slamming a door into him. The thought of doing so now seemed laughable.

  Remy dropped into a low, awkward bow and mumbled, “Your Highness.”

  “Witches never did have many manners,” he said to her with a frown. He looked over to where Hale stood and smirked. Hale was trying and failing not to watch them.

  “Apologies, Your Highness,” Remy murmured looking down at her hands. A crowd had gathered around them, flocking to the young prince. This was exactly what she feared happening. She did not want the attentions of Hale’s little brother. It could only lead to bad things.

  “Do you know how to dance, witch?” Belenus asked, extending his long, slender hand.

  “No,” Remy said, but Belenus flashed her a malevolent grin.

  “I will show you,” he said like a command. Dozens of eyes drilled into her skin as she looked to that outstretched hand. She knew she had to take it.

  She swallowed and took Belenus’s cold, soft hand. He led her to the center of the circle of dancers. Everyone gave them a wide berth. Some stopped dancing to watch them. The entire Eastern Court was staring at her now. She didn’t dare seek out Hale in the crowd. She knew the exact look he would have on his face.

  Belenus placed his free hand lightly on her waist. Remy was grateful for her hoop skirt in that moment and the buffer of distance it would keep from the young prince. He led her into a slow waltz. Those black eyes bored into her as if he could see every thought swirling in her head.

  “I see you favor the same shade as I,” he said, his eyes skirting unabashedly across her bosom and down her plum dress. He wore a jacket the exact matching shade. “Excellent taste.”

  She wanted to tell him she had looked at twenty other dresses, but that Carys had forced her to wear this one because it was a less flattering shade on her. It would have been helpful to know that it was the prince’s favorite color. Remy said nothing but inclined her head in thanks.

  Belenus looked at her bare neck. “I’m surprised my brother hasn’t offered to make you his personal witch. I’m sure my father wouldn’t allow it, but I’m surprised Hale still didn’t at least try.”

  Remy bit the inside of her cheek. Little did Belenus know she had offered her services to Hale only yesterday. Hale had not said that his father would forbid it. Hale didn’t seem inclined to mention her at all to the King. What would Gedwin Norwood do if the crown prince wanted to take a red witch? Surely he wouldn’t punish the heir to his own throne that severely?

  Her hair flew off her shoulders as Belenus whipped her around in a twirl. As she spun, Remy saw the King was watching her too. He tracked her with a stillness that made her want to shudder. She knew she would not win his favor anytime soon, and she prayed the King would not call on her for a closer inspection. He had probably ordered his son to invite her to dance, designing this trap to draw a reaction from Hale. She was sure of it.

  Remy saw Hale’s cinnamon brown hair and matching jacket in the crowd, but his back was turned to them. She was glad for it. She could not think of a single appropriate reaction from him—each would break her in a different way. Hale spoke to Talhan, who was laughing away, the picture of a merry courtier. It was good Hale was with Talhan too. His easygoing cheer offset Hale’s rigidness.

  As they moved, Belenus followed Remy’s line of sight and saw that it snagged on the back of his brother’s head. He smirked.

  Damn. She knew she shouldn’t have looked for him in the crowd.

  “Are you fucking him?”

  Remy’s eyes flew to Belenus. She stared at him as his mouth twisted, pulling up to one side. She shook her head, trying not to gape at the smug expression on his face.

  “Ah, so you want to be fucking him.” He smiled.

  “You have a foul mouth for a child.” Remy’s voice filled with venom, though she kept her face neutral. Too many people were watching for her to show her true disgust.

  “I am not a child. I am nineteen,” he said, sneering. The same age as Remy. “And you will watch your tone when speaking to me.”

  “Why did you ask me to dance, Your Highness?” Remy said in a sickly-sweet voice. Belenus scowled at her as the music swelled to its finale.

  “I wanted to see why my brother tried to hide you from us,” he said, giving her one more sweeping look. “I was expecting a rare treasure.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint,” Remy said flatly. The music played its last long note.

  “Everything Hale touches ends in disappointment,” Belenus said, bowing to her and walking off before she could rise from her curtsy.

  What an awful, hateful man. No wonder Hale avoided Wynreach like the plague. Imagine growing up with that as your little brother.

  Remy pushed her way back to the food tables but couldn’t find Carys or Bri. She grabbed a goblet of wine and kept searching. Hale and Talhan weren’t where they stood either.

  “Dancing with a prince, lucky girl,” a middle-aged female said to her. She wore a short-sleeved lapis gown, her neck dripping with diamonds. She had a pleasant if not bored look on her face. “Many eligible young ladies will be quite jealous of
you tonight, my dear.”

  Remy tried to laugh, but it came out more like a snort. She could imagine no one fawning after Belenus.

  “The prince is an accomplished dancer,” Remy said, throwing out the first thing she thought to say.

  “For a foreigner to court life, you dance like a princess.” The female clasped her hands as she smiled, swept up in the romance of the dance. “It is a shame you are not fae.”

  She took Remy by the hand and pulled her into conversations with four other middle-aged males. She showed Remy off like she was a new oddity for them all to examine. Remy nodded to each one when introduced, forgetting their names the second they left the older female’s mouth. Not saying a word, Remy continued to scan the room for her friends.

  She found herself jostled into another conversation, squished between two bantering old males. They droned on about trade, the changing of seasons, and redecorating their houses. The group seemed to ignore her. She wasn’t fae, so she wasn’t worth noticing.

  “What a waste it was for Gedwin to claim that bastard.” Remy’s attention snapped back to the male at her right. She considered unsheathing her new dagger as she scowled at him.

  “Well, if his Fated had lived, it would have been worth it,” the female who had found Remy chided. Sounds of the room pressed in on Remy more. The heat and the noise made her feel queasy.

  “No one saw the Northern Rebellion coming.” A gruff laugh came from another male across the circle.

  “Still, he shouldn’t have hung the succession of the Eastern Court on a Fated love match,” the male to her right said incredulously.

  “What was that princess’ name again? There was Raffiel, Rivitus . . . Ruafora was it?” the female recounted, swirling her hand through the air. Remy held her breath as they spoke.

  “No, that was the last one,” the gruff one said.

  “Risabella?” the female mused.

  “I think not, but it was just as strange.” The male chuckled.