by AK Mulford
Resting her hand over his heart, Remy looked to Hale.
“I do not know all that the future will hold, but I know this: I am your Fated, and I am your family.” Remy held her mate’s eyes as she watched her words crack him open.
His throat bobbed as he nodded. She knew he could not speak.
Before Remy could ask what he was doing, he unknotted that red thread around his wrist. With his teeth he ripped it in two. It had survived a poison lake, imprisonment in a dungeon, and a battle. Yet there it was. She had put it on him and told him he was hers.
“I plan on buying a much nicer ring in the East,” Hale said, bending down onto one knee, “but I cannot wait.”
Remy’s mouth dropped in surprise. Hale held up the two equal lengths of thread. He was her soul mate, the person she intended to live the rest of her life with, and somehow this still came as a surprise.
“Remini Maescia Dammacus, Queen of the High Mountain Court . . . will you marry me?” Hale’s smile made Remy want to buckle at the knees. It was a rare smile, so bright and hopeful.
Remy’s chest felt like it might burst open.
“Yes.” She wasn’t sure if it was a laugh or a cry.
Hale leapt to his feet, that beautiful smile widening further as he tied that length of red string around her finger. Remy made quick work of knotting the second length onto his.
Hale pulled her face to him, crashing their mouths together. Remy threaded her fingers through his soft hair, pulling him in closer.
It was a desperate kiss, the horror of all they had seen mixed with the hope of a brighter future. As the chaos of the past collided with what was to come, that kiss was the only thing that mattered.
Hale removed his lips to trail kisses down Remy’s neck and collarbone, shifting his hands to her hips, pulling their lower bodies together.
“How did you know my middle name?” she said, recalling his words.
Hale pulled away a mere inch and smiled at her.
“I looked it up in the private libraries of the Eastern Court the last time we were there.” His grin turned sinful. “I wanted to know your full name before I proposed to you.”
“You were planning on proposing to me even then?” Remy blanched.
Remy remembered that day on the boat, crossing the Crushwold River. She remembered that kiss in that inn in Ruttmore too. She had wanted Hale for a long time as well. But to know he had wanted to marry her for so long . . .
“I have wanted to marry you from the moment you almost crushed me with that pine tree way back in Harbruck,” he said in that delicious, rolling purr that made Remy’s stomach clench.
It was real. It had always been true and inevitable. Her Fated.
Remy broke her hold on Hale and walked to their bedroom door. She snicked the lock as she looked at him.
“What about leaving at once for the East?” He grinned wickedly.
“The East can wait,” Remy said, prowling back to her Fated, her fiancé. The world could wait. The only person that mattered right now was Hale, and she needed him in every way. She needed their bodies as intertwined as their souls.
The caved-in ceiling opened up to a hazy, gray sky. Hale and Remy walked through the snow-filled corridor, navigating around the rubble. The castle was mostly ruins after the wrath of Baba Morganna. They winded toward the front entryway, where a caravan of carriages waited to ride back to Yexshire. The haunted halls were empty, the aftermath of the battle evident every few paces—splatters of brown dried blood, dented armor, abandoned shoes dusted in snow.
“Remy!” a whooping shout came from behind them just as another echoed, “Hale!”
She didn’t have time to brace for the impact as three fae warriors barreled into her, squashing her and Hale against the wall, the hood of her cloak flying off. Grabbing the Eagles and Carys, she pulled them into a tight hug, a potent mixture of joy and sorrow coursing through her as she clung to them.
“You were incredible,” Talhan exclaimed, looking to Hale. “Did you see her? She fought off five armored soldiers with that one little dagger!”
“I taught her everything she knows,” Bri said, clapping her on the shoulder. “You didn’t die, Rem.”
“I did,” Remy muttered as Carys slung her arm around Remy’s waist and pulled her into her side.
“I am so sorry about Heather, Remy,” she said, her voice cracking as the group sobered. “She was an amazing person and she will be deeply missed.”
They pressed in closer, arms tightening around each other, mourning the loss of the brown witch.
“And Raffiel,” Talhan said, his golden eyes filled with lament. “They have been washed and dressed, ready to take back to their final resting place.”
Remy bit her lips between her teeth to keep the tears from flowing. She would bury them in the hills behind the ruins of the castle in Yexshire. She would give them the burial her parents never received. Fresh white flowers would always adorn their graves. She would make sure their sacrifices were never forgotten.
“The High Mountain crowns have been loaded into the carriages too,” Carys said, her blue eyes darting between Remy and Hale. “Your crowns, now.”
Bri’s gaze dropped to the string on Remy’s finger. She smacked her brother hard in the chest. “I told you, didn’t I? She was his Fated.” She beamed at Remy with her cat-like grin. “I totally guessed it.”
Talhan guffawed. “She had no idea.”
“So we ride to Yexshire,” Remy sighed, looking at Hale and then back to her friends. “And where will you go?”
“Someone needs to head east and get control of Wynreach until a new sovereign is chosen,” Carys said. “We will go keep the peace.”
“We just got back together,” Talhan whined.
“We will come visit you in the East, Tal,” Remy said, leaning her shoulder into Hale. “After we lead our people to Yexshire.”
“You are free of your oath to me now.” Hale’s voice dropped an octave as he stared down at his hands. “I am not a Prince of the Eastern Court.”
Bri snorted. “No,” she said. “You’re the future King of the High Mountain Court.”
Talhan grinned, looking between Hale and Remy. “We’re with you. Always.”
Remy swallowed the lump in her throat as she smiled at them.
“Come on, let’s get to the carriages.” Bri pulled them down the corridor. “I need to take a nap.”
“It is mid-morning.” Remy chuckled, smelling the lingering scent of ale and moonshine on their breaths.
“Exactly.” Talhan wrapped his hefty arm around Remy’s shoulder as he guided her down the hall. “Time to sleep.”
Their laughter reverberated off the cold stone walls, their joy so at odds with the destruction around them. Remy glanced up at the crumbling wall towering above her. Even through the depths of their losses, there was a feeling of awe too. Against all odds, they had survived.
They had traveled through every court in Okrith together, save for her home court. She hoped there would be nights of drinking and storytelling around the hearth of the rebuilt castle in Yexshire. She hoped they would all go up to the rooftop of Lavender Hall again and sip honey wine in the gardens of Saxbridge. But above all, she hoped that their future adventures would be together more often than apart.
Pulling her fur-trimmed cloak tighter around her, Remy followed Hale out into the blizzard. A carriage waited outside the doorway. Behind them, the Northern castle was all but ruins, only a small part of it remaining untouched by the wrath of Baba Morganna. Two servants from Bern’s group were ready to help Remy into the carriage.
Bern sat downhill on horseback. Surrounded by fifty of his soldiers, he readied his troops to march south into Yexshire. Carys, Talhan, and Bri moved toward the saddled mounts, waiting to head east.
This was her life now—carriages, servants.
Even in the camps of Yexshire while they rebuilt the castle, they would treat her like a queen. She was the queen, though a coronati
on would have to wait for now.
This was her destiny laid out before her.
For the briefest flicker of time, Remy had thought it wouldn’t have to be her, that Raffiel would take the throne and she could relax and live her life with Hale. But that wasn’t the truth that had been gnawing into her gut these fourteen years. She knew that, for Yexshire to rise again, she would have to take her place on the throne. She knew no one would come in and do it for her.
The world would not make her, she would make the world.
One soldier broke from the gathering up ahead. He was a head taller than those around him, long and lean, though filling out. Remy’s feet were moving before she could stop herself.
Fenrin.
Remy caught the brown witch before he could move into a bow and threw her arms around him. She squeezed him like a vice, willing herself not to cry. All the eyes of her people were on her, but she did not care. Let them see her hugging the witch.
“Don’t torture yourself for it, Remy. It was her choice, and she made the right one,” Fenrin said, knowing the guilt Remy felt for Heather’s death. She didn’t have to say one word for him to know from that squeeze that she loved him, appreciated him. “You know she’d always make that choice.”
Remy bit her lip so hard she was sure it would draw blood. She would not cry again in front of the people who had risked their lives to save her. She needed to show strength.
They released the hug and surveyed the gathering caravan of people and horses heading to Yexshire.
“It’s too much, Fen,” Remy said, surveying her people.
“You always were a queen, Remy, always. You just are letting other people see it now too,” he said.
“I will have need of a brown witch in Yexshire. I’m sure many of my people will need the help of a palace brown witch. Would you care to take the position?”
“Of course,” he said, eyes lighting up. Then he smirked at her. “I have many suggestions of how you can design your palace.”
“Excellent.” She smiled. They had been imagining building a home in Yexshire since they were twelve. If anyone knew what she wanted in a palace, it would be Fenrin.
The brown witch looked over her shoulder. “Your Fated is a good man, Remy, I’m happy for you.”
She loosed a long-held sigh at that. Not knowing how much she needed to hear that, she was grateful that Fenrin had released her from his feelings. She wanted Fenrin’s approval of Hale. Remy hoped Heather would have approved of him too.
“Your Majesty.” Carys coughed from her horse behind them.
Remy turned and saw, standing in the arched stone doorway of the palace, her sister. She hustled up the hillside, snow sticking to her black hair.
Rua stood stoically in front of her, her hand resting on the ruby hilt of the Immortal Blade. She looked so much like Rivitus. She had the same smattering of dark freckles across her golden-brown skin, green and brown eyes, and highlights of strawberry blonde in her wavy, dark hair. Her looks were willowy and ethereal, but her countenance was rock hard. She stood perfectly, shoulders back, chin up. At eighteen, she looked like she could conquer the world.
Remy hesitated for a moment before hugging her sister. She dropped heavy tears as she hugged Rua. She couldn’t contain them, hugging the only member of her family who lived. She never thought she would see Rua again, and here she was, beautiful and strong. Rua lifted one arm and rested it tentatively on Remy’s back, the other remaining on her sword.
When they pulled away, Rua’s face was unchanged, unaffected by that long embrace. It stung. Remy wondered what had happened in Rua’s childhood to make her this way . . . or maybe the sword had done something to her sister.
Renwick appeared, lingering in the archway, as Remy wiped her tears. She narrowed a hateful look at him, and he huffed out a laugh.
She looked back at her sister. “You do not have to stay here. You could come back home with us.”
Home. It felt so good to say.
They were going home. Remy and her people would rebuild their homeland. The future of their people was promising once more. Let the realm know what it meant to be a High Mountain fae. She would lead her people back into the light of a new age.
“I will be fine,” Rua said. There was no anger or frustration in her voice, only a stoic coldness that worried Remy more than any emotion. This was not the same girl who was shaking and screaming while Northern soldiers cut down witches beside her.
Rua looked back to Renwick with a snarl. Good. At least there was something there, then. “I will let them know the power of the High Mountains.”
Remy stared at Rua for another moment. Her little sister was fearsome. Remy wondered what her life had been, growing up with the red witches in hiding. She imagined being raised by red witches in the woods was wholly different from the way Heather raised her in taverns. Whatever her upbringing, it had molded her into the person standing here now. She quaked to think what her sister would do with that blade.
“I will be in touch through fae fires. Regularly. It won’t be long until Winter Solstice, which I hope you come home for, you . . . and Renwick,” Remy added with a drip of disgust that made her sister smile. At least they could agree to hate him, then. Maybe they could bond over that. “Please contact me whenever you can.”
Rua nodded, and that was her only response. Her sister didn’t bristle under Remy’s sad stare. This was not the reunion Remy had hoped for.
She felt someone standing beside her. A worn leather pack thudded to the ground. She looked over and saw Bri.
“I’ve had enough of the East,” Bri said, looking at Remy. “With your permission, Your Majesty, I’d like to stay behind and offer my protection to Princess Ruadora.”
Remy sagged with relief.
She could cry all over again that her friend had offered to stay. She didn’t trust any of Bern’s soldiers to stay behind. She didn’t know any of them. She didn’t feel like she could order Hale’s warriors around either. She supposed she would have to get used to ordering people around. But Bri had seen her distress and volunteered.
“I do not need your assistance,” Rua said.
“I know you don’t need it,” Remy said to her sister. “You’ve proven your power and skill,” she added, trying to puff her up. “But the North is still rife with those loyal to the fallen King. Even with that sword, you still need to sleep. Let one more pair of eyes guard your back. Please.”
Remy hated that she had to beg. She knew she could demand it and her sister could not refuse, but she wasn’t willing to throw down that gauntlet, not when they had just found each other again.
So she pleaded. Let her sister think she had a say. This relationship was already more tenuous than Remy had hoped, but with Bri there, at least she would know Rua would be safe.
“Fine.” Rua drifted those green-flecked eyes to Bri. The Eagle matched it with her own golden stare. These two were going to be an interesting pairing.
Remy gave one last half smile to her sister and turned. That was that. She plodded to the carriage where Hale waited. He stood proudly, looking at her.
He threaded his warm fingers through her hand. She felt the red thread tied around her ring finger.
“Give her time,” he mumbled.
Remy held onto his hand tighter.
Her Fated saw it all, how desperately she wanted her sister’s love, how badly she needed that connection.
It would come. Hale was right. Rua had been through an unspeakable trauma. She just needed time. At least, Remy hoped that was all she needed. She hated leaving her in the North, but she didn’t want to leave Renwick unchecked either. At least Bri would stay behind.
Remy scanned out over the swirling white blizzard. It would be a long trek through this weather, but she could not wait. She knew her people could not wait either. They would rather trudge through a snowstorm to reach their homeland than to wait another night in the castle of their enemy. It was only the beginning for them. The new d
ay their world had been waiting fourteen years for was dawning. And it would be Remy who would usher in that change, with her King by her side.
Chapter Thirty
They stood on the cliff, overlooking the rugged stone beaches and, beyond that, the ocean. Nothing prepared Remy for the vastness of cerulean waves stretching out before her; the enormity of the giant rolling swells that crashed along the stones, the loud sound of rocks being tumbled as the ocean pulled them back into its watery depths. The scent was so familiar, even though she had never visited the ocean. It was Hale’s scent, like the ocean waves had branded themselves on his soul.
Looking out into the mighty, frothy blue that stretched into the horizon, all the world’s problems felt incredibly small.
The courts were all a mess; the world had descended into chaos after the slaying of King Vostemur: blue witch uprisings in the North, Augustus Norwood fleeing into the Eastern Mountains with a battalion ready to take back his throne, caravans of displaced Yexshiri and red witch refugees making their way back to the High Mountain Court . . . yet here, everything felt calm.
The wind whipped Remy’s pointed ears, muffling the sound of Hale’s rapidly beating heart. She looked to her left, to the winding path that led to a cottage carved into the cliff and to the fishing village of Haastmouth Beach.
Ramshackle cottages dotted the narrow paths to a high boardwalk on stilts and a long jetty of tied-up fishing boats, nestled into the harbor to protect from the high winds.
But it was this first cottage that held Hale’s gaze. He clutched a bouquet of violet flowers in his hand.
Remy stepped to him and laced her fingers through his free hand.