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

by AK Mulford

  “What?!” Carys’s shout snapped them out of their silence.

  Remy looked over to the three fae soldiers. They had a scattering of blankets laid out against the opposite curving wall. Candles flickered beside plates of food and bottles of wine that they passed between them. It was a picnic under the stars.

  The prince turned to Carys, his fae ears probably hearing their whole conversation. “It’s the King’s orders, Carys. There’s nothing we can do.”

  “What’s going on?” Remy wondered.

  She went over to the blankets and sat beside Carys. Hale followed, and Remy did not miss that he chose to sit beside her.

  “The King is a dick, that’s what’s going on,” Bri said, shoving a slice of cheese into her mouth.

  Talhan snorted. “She’s not wrong.”

  “I take it your meeting with the King went well?” Remy grimaced.

  “He has ordered Bri, Carys, and I to go back to Falhampton.” Talhan cursed, setting the plate of fruit down roughly. “He says we are to pull back Hale’s soldiers and help in the evacuation of the town.”

  Remy blinked at them. He could not be serious. King Norwood was ceding his borders to the Northern Court? Did he really think giving them his border town would do anything other than encourage a bigger push into his lands?

  “It’s bullshit,” Bri snarled. “The soldiers there could handle an evacuation fine without us. He just wants to keep us from Hale.”

  “Why would he do that?” Remy pursed her lips.

  The four of them exchanged looks, unspoken conversations seeming to happen between them.

  A quiet anger threaded through Carys’s voice. “He wants him to fail.”

  “Why?” Remy couldn’t understand why the King would send his eldest son on such an important mission and then plot for his failure.

  “He wants you to get the amulet of Aelusien, doesn’t he?” she said. “Surely we would have better success if we all went together.”

  “Exactly,” Talhan said, jutting his jaw to the side as he chewed.

  “Then why?” Remy pushed.

  “He asked for the Shil-de ring,” Hale said, craning his neck down to her from where he sat at her side. “His advisors are just as scheming as he is, and they have convinced him he should be its guardian until Prince Raffiel is found. He wanted you to stay in Wynreach with him too.”

  Remy recoiled.

  “Hale didn’t tell him where it was,” Bri said to Remy, as if reading her mind. “He didn’t give you up either.”

  Remy looked at Hale, his eyes shadowed in darkness. He didn’t give you up either.

  “Yeah, and get this.” Talhan rolled his eyes. “He said that a future king should have more than enough power to conquer the Rotted Peak alone.”

  “I don’t understand.” Remy was so confused. Why would the King separate them? Just because his son had refused to give him the ring?

  Hale had gone still at her side. She knew the answers to her questions were bringing him pain.

  Carys answered for him, “The King does not want Hale as his heir.” Remy’s head whirled to her as she continued. “The King had claimed Hale as his son because of the blue witch’s prophecy on his birth that Hale was Fated to a High Mountain fae. That union would have brought the king incredible power to be so closely tied to them . . . and it would mean that Hale would marry into the High Mountain Court and his next child, Belenus, would become heir to the Eastern throne.”

  Cary’s words speared through Remy even though she had heard them before. She remembered what Hale had confessed to her about how King Norwood had treated his mother.

  “After the Siege of Yexshire, Hale was . . .” Carys couldn’t find the words to continue.

  “An inconvenience,” Bri said, angry for her friend. “An obstacle standing in the way of Belenus’s ascension to the throne.”

  “He’s sent you on so many fool’s errands over the years,” Talhan said to Hale, “and you’ve proved him wrong every single time. But this . . . going up the Rotted Peak just the two of you . . .”

  “He hopes I will never come back down,” Hale finished.

  Anger rose in Remy’s veins at the sad, deflated look Hale tried to hide. He had thought if he completed all his father’s impossible missions that he would earn his love. But the pride his father showed after each accomplishment was short lived. How convenient for the King to have his eldest son die a hero and, in doing so, both bring him glory and pave the way for the son he wanted as his heir. Remy hurt for him in a way deeper than she ever hurt for herself.

  She threaded her fingers through Hale’s, giving his large warm hand a squeeze. He looked at their hands and gripped hers in return. As he removed a piece of the wall he’d built around himself, Remy glimpsed the pain that thrummed below the surface.

  “Well, the King was right about one thing,” Remy said. The four of them all turned to her. “I am a red witch, and I am more powerful than he knows. I do not fear Mt. Aelusien.” Carys pressed her lips together as she gave Remy a grateful nod. She knew how Remy spoke the words directly to the prince’s broken spirits. Remy believed the truth in her words too. The red witches placed the amulet in Mt. Aelusien, but only the fae had ever sought it out. Remy would be the first with red witch magic to try. If anyone could succeed, it would be her. Her only regret was that they could not come with her. “I will miss all of you.”

  They were her friends, Remy realized all at once. These fae warriors she had once only admired were now her friends. She couldn’t bring herself to make another tearful goodbye.

  Talhan gave her a small smile. “We’ll sort out Falhampton in no time and get those people to safety,” he assured her. “And then we’ll come find you on your way to Yexshire.” He said it like it was a simple, straightforward thing.

  But they all knew that they may not see each other for a long time, perhaps never again. Bri uncorked the bottle of wine by her side and poured it into the jumble of random mugs before her. She passed them around to everyone, keeping the bottle to drink from herself. The prince held tight to Remy’s hand, reaching with his far arm for the mug being passed his way.

  “To the red witch and our prince,” Bri said, raising the bottle, “May the Gods bless your journey.”

  “Hear, hear,” her twin said as they clinked mugs.

  They fell into relaxed conversation, telling jokes and stories, eating from the tray of fruits and cheeses. The stars sparkled over their heads, the constellations shining bright in this darkened part of town. Every time they drained a bottle of wine dry, another seemed to appear out of Talhan’s bag as if by magic.

  Hale pulled a fur blanket over himself and Remy, holding onto her hand through the night.

  The promise of morning sun lay pink and golden in the far clouds as Remy stirred awake. She felt Hale shifting beside her. She had fallen asleep sitting against that stone wall after laughing and drinking long into the night. A blanket covered her up to the shoulders. She rested her head against the prince’s shoulder, feeling his heat radiating into her cheek. Winter would be here within a couple of months, and the mornings were turning icy.

  Remy didn’t want to open her eyes. She didn’t want to move at all. The bottles of wine last night had done her no favors. Her head squeezed under an invisible force. Her brain was spinning and scattered. She could not grab on to any line of thought, and she wanted nothing more than a few hours of sleep, hoping it would bring her more coherence.

  The prince shifted his head down to hers. His lips swept across Remy’s temple and hovered at her ear.

  “Time to go,” he whispered. His warm breath in Remy’s ear made her finally open her eyes.

  He was smiling at her like he was trying to hold in a laugh.

  “What?” Remy narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Your eyes are glowing red.” Hale smirked.

  “Oh,” Remy said, “Oh!” she said again realizing what he meant. Her eyes were glowing red because of that whisper in her ear. T
hat whisper made her want to pull his lips to hers, headache or no.

  Remy’s cheeks heated, but the prince was already moving. Last night had felt somehow even more intimate than that night at the card game in Ruttmore. There was no blaming it on getting caught up in the act today. It was honest and slow.

  The prince packed the blankets with stealth. They made to move to their packs by the hatch door, and as they did Carys reached an arm up and gently squeezed Remy’s ankle.

  It was the only acknowledgement the tired fae gave her before she dropped back into sleep, but Remy knew what it meant: goodbye and good luck.

  Bri didn’t open her eyes either as she mumbled into her blanket, “Don’t die, Rem.”

  Remy touched the hilt of her new dagger she had belted onto her waist and smiled as she descended the ladder.

  Small city stables sat at the back of Lavender Hall, fallen into near disarray. Two horses waited in the stalls. Remy watched as Hale made quick work of saddling them. He set them in the same configuration as they had on their ride through the Southern Court: one carrying their two packs and one for both of them to ride.

  The smells of the barn made Remy’s stomach roil. She was sure her face had gone green.

  “How are you acting so normal?” Remy groaned as Hale tightened the saddle’s buckles. He had drunk an entire bottle of wine by himself last night, and yet he seemed clear-eyed and light-spirited.

  “Not too partial to the wine, are you?” Hale laughed while keeping his eyes on his task.

  Remy was not much of a drinker, and when she did she made a point of never imbibing too much. She had spent too many tavern shifts kicking out hungover patrons to think getting drunk was a good idea. But she had newfound empathy for what they must have been feeling. She tried not to think too hard on it. The thought of the wine alone would turn her stomach to acid and it would all come spilling back up. How in the Gods’ names was she going to ride a horse?

  Remy went to the packhorse, pilfering through the outer pocket of her bag as the horse shifted. She knew each of the glass vials in her pack from feel alone, each one wrapped in thin strips of scrap linen, no two vials identical in size or shape. Her fingers encircled the one she wanted. She lifted it out, unraveling the linen to reveal a thumb-sized vial of light-brown glass. The paint of a five-point star and a mint leaf had rubbed off long ago, but Remy knew this was the right elixir. Heather had made most of her druni from bottles of this very magic: a hangover tonic. In backcountry taverns, this stuff was gold. Remy had never needed it herself before, but she kept one vial in her potions bag just in case. It sat along with two dozen other vials that were also for “just in cases” she hoped she would never need to use.

  Remy uncorked it and gulped the contents in one foul swig. It made her want to retch, but she forced it down. If she could keep it in her stomach for any amount of time, it would be helpful. She scrunched her face, her nostrils flaring with the effort to not gag. She took another breath and her stomach settled, the pounding in her head already lightening a bit.

  Thank the Gods for brown witches, she whispered a silent prayer to Heather. Her guardian was protecting her even still.

  By the time they mounted their horse and headed north through the city, the sun was cresting above the pine trees ahead. More and more people emerged from their homes for the day.

  The smell of freshly baked bread swirled around them as a baker pushed his cart loaded with loaves and cakes down the cobbled road. He must have awoken in the middle of the night for them all to be baked and ready to sell this early.

  Hale flagged him down with a hand. Some sort of silent request flowed between them. The baker stopped, lifting the fine netting over his baking, and produced two round loaves of bread the size of dinner plates. The prince passed him a gold coin and the baker’s eyes widened at it. It was far too much payment for two loaves of bread, but the baker simply bowed and mumbled, “Your Highness” and kept on his way. It was neither adoring nor fearful, merely appreciative.

  Hale passed Remy a brown loaf of warm bread dotted with dried fruits and swirls of cinnamon. The buttery fruit and spice scent eddied in currents of steam emanating from cracks in the crispy crust. The aroma made her stomach gurgle.

  Hale laughed at the sound. Her back pressed so tightly into his front that it wouldn’t surprise her if he felt the rumbling.

  Remy tore off a piece of bread with her fingers, a whorl of steam lifting into the brisk morning air. With the entire piece in her mouth, the spiced, rich flavors lit up her tongue. An indecent sound groaned out of her. Hale straightened behind her, coughing.

  Remy bit her lip to keep from laughing. She was grateful he couldn’t see her face. She delighted in what that little sound had done to him. It was hard to turn her mind away from wondering about all the other sounds he might elicit from her.

  “I take it you like the bread,” Hale said, as Remy devoured the first half of her loaf.

  “It’s delicious,” she replied, cheeks so stuffed with bread her words were barely intelligible. “I’ve never had anything like it.”

  “It is my favorite too.” She sensed Hale smiling without turning to look at him. “The Northside Baker is famous in Wynreach. I had to make a detour on our way out of the city for you to try it.”

  That made Remy pause before she continued chewing. Hale had wanted to share this with her. It was something small and simple, yet special enough to him that he had thought to include her in it.

  “Thank you,” Remy said, ripping into the bread again. “I think as your red witch I should advise you to hire that man as your personal baker and make him ride out into battlefields after you with this raisin bread.”

  Hale laughed, not a princely laugh but an honest witch’s laugh. It would be a sight to behold: a baker riding into battle to deliver his prince his bread. Remy chuckled too. They rode and ate in companionable silence to the far reaches of the city.

  Most on the street were humans, heading in the opposite direction, toward the heart of the city to work for the day. Most fae and witches would have the day off after their equinox celebrations, but there were some jobs that were always needed. They were the most under-appreciated ones too. Some humans stole quick glances at Remy and the Eastern Prince. A few others stopped and bowed, but most carried on ignoring them. It wasn’t the reception Remy expected for their crown prince.

  Ahead of them, three human men stumbled out of a doorway and into the early morning light. They swayed and laughed with the same joviality Remy saw in her taverns. She knew this type: the ones who wanted the festivities to never end, who would drink and dance and sing and laugh until the sun rose. The sun was well into the sky now, climbing above the tree line of the forest slopes ahead. The stumbling men looked barely of age. They still hadn’t grown into their height or bodies yet. The prince slowed their horses in case one of the drunk men stumbled forward.

  They looked at Remy and then Hale, recognition lighting their faces as they scowled. Remy was used to this too. The sun worked its powerful magic, turning the nightlong merriment into vicious spite come morning.

  “Ignore them,” Hale said, bracing for them to say something. Remy hated it, that he knew how these men were about to treat him because he had experienced it so many times throughout his life.

  Humans had called Remy all sorts of brutal things in her life, some clever and cutting, others predictable, and she had learned to let the drunken jibes roll over her like water off a duck’s back. But for some reason, directed to the male whose warmth bled into her back and whose breath was hot on her hair . . . this felt different.

  The tallest and boldest of the humans waited until their horse reached them and spat onto the ground.

  “Bastard,” he cursed.

  Bastard.

  It was the simplest yet most cutting word of all. Remy knew deep down Hale felt everything that word meant was true. Not only that his mother had borne him out of wedlock, but also that he was unworthy of everything he had,
that he somehow deserved these barbs and razor-sharp words. Remy had done it to him too, called him bastard more than once. She was as much to blame as these drunken fools.

  The two men behind the tall human laughed. That cruel, taunting laughter snapped something in Remy. Before she knew what she was doing, her foot was flying, swinging over the horse’s black mane and dropping to the ground. She couldn’t feel the impact or the heaviness of a whole loaf in her stomach. She couldn’t feel her feet running or her hand grabbing the dagger on her belt.

  She was just there, as if she had blinked and it had happened, bowling the tall man over onto his backside and pinning him to the wall. Her dagger pressed across his throat.

  The man’s blue eyes were wide in their sockets, his breathing shallow and rapid. His companions stood frozen above them on either side of her.

  “Apologize,” Remy snarled, crouching in front of him.

  “Remy,” Hale called, but she would not acknowledge him. She knew from the reflection in the human’s glassy eyes that her irises were glowing red. Her hands and eyes vibrated, filled with her power.

  The man went ghost white. Remy grimaced as his bladder released. She was truly not a meek hiding creature anymore, but someone to be feared. She smiled icily at the man as she ordered again, “Apologize to your prince.”

  “I’m sorry,” the human whispered, his voice shaking so violently his words could not be discerned.

  Remy loosened the pressure of her dagger, but her magic kept it floating an inch away from the man’s neck.

  “Louder,” she demanded.

  “I am sorry, Prince Norwood,” he whimpered. Remy was sure tears were building in his eyes. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness.”

  “You are forgiven.” Hale spoke in a powerful and stoic voice.

  Remy stood then, snatching her dagger from midair and sheathing it. She gave one last look to each of the other human men. They flinched from her glowing red gaze, as if looking in her eyes alone would curse them. Remy didn’t take the prince’s outstretched arm as she grabbed the horn of the saddle and moved into a perfect reverse of how she had dismounted the saddle, her leg sweeping over the horse’s mane. Her leg muscles barked at her, but she did it anyway, just to let them see how strong she was.