by AK Mulford
Remy’s head felt light: everything around her seemed to spin, Hale’s tear-stained face blurred, and nausea crept up slowly. She knew the Twin Eagles stood over her, too, and she ached with regret that she couldn’t say goodbye.
Why had she thought she could overthrow the Northern King?
Remy’s body demanded she rest. Her eyes fluttered closed, only to widen again at the rolling waves of stabbing pain through her chest. She fell into numbness only for the searing pain to mercilessly revive her again and again
Remy whimpered, and Hale’s face crumpled. It would not be Remy who had to scrub away all the images of horror from this day. It would be Hale. She knew he would never forget this moment or her dying face.
She reached up a bloody hand and placed it on his cheek. The tremors of her arm barely held it steady.
Remy wanted to tell him she knew this was it. She wanted him to comfort her and tell her it wasn’t true. She wanted to beg to be saved and cry that she wasn’t ready to die and that there was so much of their life to live together.
But she didn’t.
As the tears fell from her eyes into her hair, all she said was, “I love you.”
Hale sobbed as he bent to her and placed a tear-covered kiss on her lips. Remy tasted the salt of his tears. When Hale pulled back, the corner of his mouth was bloody. He didn’t wipe the blood away.
Remy coughed up more blood. The end was near, then. Remy closed her eyes and relaxed her muscles. She tried to take a deep breath and then another, but every breath was a stabbing pain.
She couldn’t breathe.
Her chest felt so heavy as she panted. Then everything went numb. She couldn’t feel any more pain or panic to catch a breath, and it was a sweet relief. Soon everything would be over, and she would rest forever.
“Remy.” The word was a trembling whisper, but it was not from Hale.
Remy opened her eyes to see Heather hovering over her. Heather wore servants’ garb like Fenrin. Tear tracks stained her cheeks, but she smiled down at Remy. And Remy, despite everything, smiled back at her.
To see her mother one last time. Because that’s what she was and always had been, her mother. It did not matter if they shared the same blood. They were family.
Then Remy spotted a dagger clenched in Heather’s hand, and she knew what was about to happen.
Remy shook her head as more tears fell, mouthing the word “No” though no sound came out of her bloodied mouth.
Heather nodded with a calm, loving smile. This was the last time they’d see each other, sure enough, but it would not be Remy leaving this world.
“I loved you from the moment I first saw you, my Remy,” Heather said. So many tears poured down her cheeks as she smiled at her daughter. “I meant it when I said I would give my life for yours.”
Remy scrambled to speak, but Heather placed a steadying hand on her shoulder.
“Help lead this world into a better future, Remy. Be brave and kind and strong and clever, as you’ve always been.” Heather’s lips quirked up. “Be all the things I tried to teach you to be, but most of all, my Remy, be loved.”
With that, she looked up. And with a chant of “Midon Brik Dzaraas,” she plunged the dagger into her heart. Remy couldn’t move, couldn’t scream. Her body and mind numbed as she faded away.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Beams of sunlight warmed Remy’s skin as she opened her eyes. She lay in an enormous bed, a thick azure duvet pulled up to her chest. She must have kicked off another fur blanket in her sleep.
A book thudded shut. Hale sat next to her, leaning against the upholstered velvet headboard.
He beamed at her, relief washing across his face. Remy snuggled further into her soft pillow. Her rumpled white nightdress had slipped off her shoulder in her sleep. Hale traced a finger over her bare shoulder and pulled the strap up.
“This must be the afterlife.” She smiled.
“Why, because the bed is too comfortable or because your Fated is too good looking?” Hale grinned.
Remy placed a sleepy hand on his knee.
“My Fated,” she whispered, smiling into her pillow.
Hale took her limp hand and kissed it, trailing languid kisses up her forearm.
He paused to say, “Make me a promise, mate.”
Remy opened her eyes at that. Hale dropped her hand to cup her cheek instead.
“Promise me I will never have to watch you die again.” He said it as if he meant it to be a joke, but there was too much pain in his voice to pull it off.
“You know I can’t promise that.” Remy stroked her hand down his forearm.
“Lie to me, then,” he rasped.
Remy brushed a chestnut lock of his hair off his forehead. She loved this, that she could touch him freely, whenever she wanted, something she had long wished to do.
“I pray we go together, after a lifetime of happiness, in a big comfy bed such as this,” she said, stroking her hand across the satin pillow.
“Let it be so,” Hale prayed, swiping his thumb across her cheek.
Remy looked to the crackling fireplace, the floor adorned with ornate rugs, the heavy blue velvet curtains that matched the ones in . . . the Northern King’s throne room.
“Where are we?” Remy asked, sitting upright.
Someone had left a glass of water on the bedside table. She drained it and then refilled it from the pitcher nearby.
“We have taken control of the Northern palace,” Hale said, confirming Remy’s fears.
“Is it safe to be staying here? I know the King might be dead, but his people will not so easily bow to the High Mountain Court and . . .”
As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door. Hale looked to Remy and waited for her response.
“Come in,” she called.
Remy swept her tangled hair off her face and smoothed her crumpled nightdress. She pulled the fur blanket back over herself, covering her chest as she leaned on the headboard.
The door opened, and there was Bern, standing like a silver snow wolf, smiling through his icy blue eyes. He stood like a warrior, though dressed in his court finery, wearing a waistcoat the color of sea mist that matched his pale eyes.
He stood preternaturally still in the doorway. Remy smiled back, and his throat bobbed, the only sign that he was holding back his emotions.
“It is nice to see you alive.” He squeezed out a raw laugh.
He walked to her bedside then. All this time, he had been working for her brother, she thought. It was Bern who tipped off Hale about the red witches and the talismans. Bern had been working for Raffiel.
Remy thought of her brother and of Bern’s pained screams as he held Raffiel’s body.
“I did not know he was alive,” Remy said. Hale wrapped an arm around her shoulder as a sudden wave of grief flooded into her, warring with her disbelief. Raffiel was gone. Heather was gone. A white-hot poker stabbed at her chest. They were gone
“I did not know he lived either. Not for certain.” Hale’s eyes narrowed at Bern. Hale had been informed by the silver-haired fae about the red witches camping in the mountains, and about the location of the Shil-de ring now on his finger . . . but Hale was never told about Raffiel.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you everything, friend,” Bern said to Hale. “I couldn’t let the son of the Eastern King know of what we were up to, just in case.” In case Gedwin Norwood was not a true ally to the High Mountain Court as he had shown himself to be.
Bern looked back to Remy. “You did not hear the rumors?”
He faked his usual slyness, but it rang more of sorrow. He had dark circles under his eyes. His face looked weathered, and his hair was disheveled.
“I trust you were the one spreading those rumors,” Remy said, her eyes welling at the silver-haired courtier. “So Raffiel was the employer you were playing for at that card game in Ruttmore?”
“We have been gathering forces for some time in the mountains between Yexshire and the Western Court.
Baba Morganna told us we’d find a red witch in Harbruck she called Little Sparrow.” Bern furrowed his brow. “She did not say it was you. We knew Hale was looking for a red witch, so we tipped him off. But when I went to that card game and saw it was you . . . our plans changed.”
Guilt racked her. Their plans changed for her, and now Raffiel was dead. Her capture had forced them to strike before they were ready. Her older brother came to her rescue only to be killed. Remy would never be ready to face that fact. She was responsible for her brother’s death.
“You knew who I was as well?” Remy tried to hide her broken heart as she frowned at her wrist. “Was it these bloody freckles again?”
Bern cocked an eyebrow at her. “You mean, I shouldn’t have been able to guess just by looking at you?” Bern raised his eyebrows at Remy. “Even in your witch form, the resemblance to your brother is uncanny. If only we had known you were alive, we would have come to find you sooner.” His forced smile faded as he looked in her eyes, getting lost in them for a moment. When he spoke, it was a whisper. “You both have those Dammacus eyes . . . as does your sister.”
“Rua,” Remy breathed, remembering her sister wielding the Immortal Blade. “Is she all right?”
“She is fine,” Bern said, albeit a little clipped. “We will send word to her that you are awake.”
“Did you know she was alive?” Remy asked.
“Yes, for several years.” Bern nodded. “A red witch hiding in the High Mountains told me Baba Morganna lived. She told me that Rua was with them, safe in the mountains across from us. We went to them as soon as we heard. We tried to visit the red witch camps as much as we could, but we had our hands full gathering the survivors of the High Mountain Court.”
Remy’s hands trembled, and Hale threaded his fingers through hers. Her sister grew up with the coven of their court, in the forests of their own homeland. On the other side of the mountains, Rua had lived this whole time.
“How many are left?” Remy asked.
“Four hundred or so,” Bern answered. “The numbers are always changing. Many aren’t originally Yexshiri but rather asylum seekers from other courts. We brought the strongest and best fighters with us when we came here.”
Four hundred.
It was more than she had hoped to dream, and yet it was devastatingly low compared to the tens of thousands who had once called Yexshire home.
“And the red witches?” Remy asked, remembering all the ones the Northern King had killed before he brought the remaining five before his court.
“We don’t know.” Bern frowned to the floor. “Baba Morganna and the other red witch left straight after the battle to head back to Yexshire. She said a few dozen witches had fled into the woods when they were captured. More might come out of hiding, those who have scattered to every corner of the realm, now that it is safe to do so.”
Remy swallowed. The numbers were disheartening, but there was a spark of hope, a spark she hoped they could coax into a flame.
“The soldiers and I are leaving tonight. We are setting up camp in Yexshire to oversee the rebuilding of the palace and the city. At least, that was Raffiel’s plan, but you are the ruler of the High Mountain Court, Your Majesty, should you wish to order the soldiers somewhere else.”
“We stick to Raffiel’s plan for now.” Remy pursed her lips. Bern had called her “Your Majesty.” For a fleeting moment, Remy thought she would not have to take the throne. When Raffiel died, that freedom ripped away from her again.
Bern looked to Hale. “I think you should go east to establish your presence in the court there.”
“I will not claim the East,” Hale said. “It was never mine to claim, nor do I want it now.” Bern went to speak, but Hale continued. “I also acknowledge we cannot leave Augustus and the fallen Eastern King’s advisors to rule instead. We can ride to the East and arrange an intermediary governance while we plan for a permanent sovereign. I can think of an excellent person to help oversee the selection.” Hale smiled.
Bern bobbed his chin. “I can offer you fifty of our soldiers to ride with you, but we will need the rest for the rebuilding of Yexshire.”
“I will summon my troops in Falhampton as well,” Hale said. “Augustus would be foolish to try to fight us.”
“And what of the Northern Court?” Remy asked.
“Renwick will rule the Northern Court,” Bern said.
“What? The Witchslayer?” Remy straightened, nearly jumping out of the bed. “You would leave a Vostemur on the throne?”
“I realize it may seem unreasonable, but Renwick has been our ally for some time, Remy,” Bern said. “He has had to walk a fine line of allegiances for many years. He is the one who brought me into play. He is the one who slipped you that dagger.” Bern cocked his head toward Remy’s dagger that lay on her bedside table. “His people will listen to him far more than they would a High Mountain fae too.”
“He could be double-crossing us.” Remy balked. “He could have just been securing the throne for himself or hedging his bets . . . we cannot trust him.”
“I have reason to believe we can . . . ,” Bern said, but before Remy could interject, he continued, “I agree we must be cautious, though, which is why Rua is going to stay behind and oversee his transition to power.”
“Rua?” Remy protested. “You would leave my little sister behind with our sworn enemy?!”
“She volunteered for the job.” Bern laughed. “And I need not remind you that Rua is in possession of the Immortal Blade. She is a fearsome warning, and her presence along with the Immortal Blade will make any Northerner think twice of mutiny.”
Remy grimaced. It was true. Keeping the Immortal Blade in the North would be a clever act of intimidation. She hated that her little sister had to stay with it, though. Did Rua even know how to use a sword?
“So you go to the mountains,” Remy said looking at Bern, “I go east, and Rua stays in the North. Scattered through the courts once more.”
“Hopefully not for long.” Bern smiled sadly. He grabbed something out of the pocket of his satin waistcoat. “Here.”
He produced a long gold chain holding a heavy glowing red stone: the amulet of Aelusien. Remy shook her head at first, but Bern pressed it into her hands.
“You should have it. You did, after all, nearly die obtaining it.”
Remy looked to Hale, smirking at her. He must have told Bern the story of how the amulet of Aelusien came into their possession.
“And it will add a nice bit of pressure on the East too,” Bern added, cocking his head.
“Were you his general? Raffiel’s?” Remy wondered, looking at Bern. The male’s face caved again at the sound of her brother’s name.
“No,” Bern said. “I was his Fated mate.”
Remy exited the bathing chamber and returned into the opulent room. She tied her hair up in a burgundy scarf and wore a fresh golden tunic with red embroidery, fitted trousers, and riding boots. The amulet of Aelusien hung heavily around her neck.
Hale had pushed for them to stay another night in the Northern Court. Remy had denied him, insisting they leave for the East at once. They needed to intervene before Hale’s supposed brother, Augustus, and the late King’s advisors had time to regroup. Word of what happened the night before would reach them soon enough, and Hale and Remy needed to be right behind the news, ready to take control of the Eastern Court.
Hale had cleaned up as well. He stood over a basin of water, his white shirtsleeves rolled up. He had shaved off the beard from his dungeon days. He looked the princely warrior once more. He shifted his hair out of his eyes. His chestnut brown hair needed a trim too. The sides had gotten long, and the top now stretched past his nose, forcing him to swipe the locks back.
“Ready?” he asked, rolling down his sleeves.
Remy walked to him and wrapped her arms around him. He smiled into her shoulder and gave it a kiss.
“I love you,” Remy whispered into his hard chest.
Hale
’s arms enveloped her, squeezing tighter for a moment before releasing her. He moved his hands to frame Remy’s face. Remy didn’t think she would ever get used to the way Hale looked at her. She could stare into those smoky gray eyes forever.
“I love you too.” His face was so open and beautiful at that moment.
He leaned forward, his lips meeting Remy’s in a soft, slow kiss. It was a kiss that promised many sweeter, slow kisses to come. It promised many nights when they could take their time passionately exploring each other’s bodies . . . though Remy did not mind their rushed and frantic lovemaking either. She wanted it all with this gorgeous male in front of her. She wanted a lifetime with her Fated.
Hale pulled back from the kiss, leaving Remy wanting. His half-hooded eyes snagged on the Shil-de ring on his right hand, resting on Remy’s cheek.
“You should not have put this ring on me, Remy.” His voice filled with lament. “It belongs to you and your family, and now I cannot take it off.”
“You are my family, Hale,” Remy whispered.
Hale’s eyes darted to hers, raw and vulnerable. His entire family had been a lie. He was just a pawn in his adoptive father’s bigger plans. He had never treated him like a son. “I don’t really know what family even means.”
“Neither do I,” Remy said with a sad smile. “I don’t know if I’m meant to feel closer to the sister I haven’t seen in fourteen years. I don’t know how much of a familial bond will carry us through. But I do know something that Heather . . .”
Remy choked on her tears. They sprung up so abruptly when it hit her again: Heather was gone. The grief washed over her anew.
Hale swiped away the tears that fell down Remy’s cheek with his thumb. She loved that Hale felt unburdened by her tears. He stood there, letting her feel it all, giving her time to use her voice again.
“Heather was my family.” Remy hung her head as her voice shook.
A wave of regret hit her once more. She wished she had been kinder to Heather. Remy wished she hadn’t directed her anger at her guardian all the time. She wished she had called her “Mother” because that is who she truly was. Heather was an unknown brown witch who had steadfastly defended Remy and raised her with all of a mother’s protection and love. Remy set herself a silent intention that once they returned to Yexshire, she would place Heather’s burial stone behind the Castle of Yexshire, along with the rest of the family she lost. And on every Day of the Spirits she would visit both of her mothers.