Page 110 of The High Mountain Court

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The world halted when Remy saw his face. He looked so much like she remembered him, but he was a man now, growing taller than either of their parents. Raffiel and Remy both looked so much like their mother, warm brown skin and black loose curls. Raffiel used to favor wearing it long when he was twelve, but now he cut it short. His dark hair looked freshly shorn and blended into his short beard. Remy couldn’t believe he was capable of growing a beard.

He looked like a king.

In one blink Remy stared at her brother, cherishing the sight of him, and in the next all hell broke loose.

Bern pulled out his sword and took the short blade on his other hip, chucking it to Hale.

“Now!” She heard a barking shout and turned to find Bri, dressed in servant’s garb, her golden eyes staring into Remy’s. Talhan moved to her side, giving Remy a quick wink even amongst the mayhem before diving back into the throes of battle.

They had come for them.

Remy remembered the dagger hidden in her tunic and grabbed it as guards rushed them from all sides.

The elegant Northern fae morphed into a screaming throng, rushing toward every exit to escape the melee. The room echoed with the thunderous clanging of swords. Commanding shouts came from every direction in Ific, Mhenbic, and Yexshiri.

The shrieking cries of wounded and dying fighters cut above the rest of the noise.

Baba Morganna threw out a flash of red light, and the three guards behind her crumpled. The three red witches ran onto the dais toward the blue curtain, only to be faced head on by five guards. The witches’ hands glowed red, preparing to fight.

Remy’s vision blurred, trying to take it all in. She saw the whip of blonde braid and knew Carys was there. But the huge guard rushing her was her first concern. Bern and Raffiel fought behind her, so she focused straight ahead. She could not see the guard’s entire face, only the menace in his eyes as he advanced. She focused her magic on that heavy punishing sword, and it went clattering to the floor. The guard turned for his sword as Remy rushed in.

She slid on her knees across the blood-slicked floor and plunged her dagger into the back of the soldier’s knee. She yanked it free and slashed at the other knee. Not fast enough. As he fell, he backhanded her with a punishing blow to her ear. The room went quiet except for the high-pitched ringing in her ears, but she didn’t stop moving.

The guard toppled on his injured knees, dropping like a stone. His head now within reach, Remy moved without thought as she slid her dagger in between the man’s helmet and shoulder plate. Remy knew she had struck true when she heard his gurgling grunt.

Remy would add that sound to the list of things she would never be able to scrub out of her mind.

She held tight to her blade and scanned the room to find Rua. Her sister was still on the dais, fighting off what seemed like a never-ending onslaught of guards. Renwick stood behind the throne, sword drawn against no enemy. The two Kings and young prince had moved to the other end of the raised platform, all holding their drawn swords. An impenetrable wall of guards surrounded them. They did not flee the carnage, so certain they would win.

But as Remy looked around, she was not so certain of their victory. She spotted many mini battles happening in every corner of the room, guard against guard, fae courtiers against servants . . . how many people had Raffiel and Bern brought with them?

Remy’s eyes snagged on the scarred blue witch. She had not moved an inch since the fighting broke out. Chaos was erupting all around her, but she stood unmoving, waiting for the pandemonium to end, with the faintest smile on her face. It was a horrifying sight.

Rua stood far behind the blue witch, taking on a guard with her witch magic. Still in her witch form, her red hands sputtered with effort, her magic nearly spent. A guard rushed her, slamming her with the blunt end of his sword. Rua cried out, staggering into Renwick.

Remy watched wide-eyed, trapped by the fighting all around her, as Renwick grabbed Rua and moved her behind him, pinning her to the table of antiquities, as he turned his sword on the guard.

His own guard.

Remy only had a chance to blink at them before the bodies of two guards who rushed Rua went flying across the hall.

Baba Morganna’s power was burning so brightly it was blinding. Let them never forget she was the witch who moved mountains.

The heavy blue curtain fell, trapping the rushing guards under it, exposing the hallway of more guards, now blocked from running their way. Baba Morgana kept lifting guards with her magic and tossing them to the floor, crushing them in their armor. The remaining guards deserted.

Other guards fled Morganna now as she stacked the crushed bodies in front of all exits. She was blocking them in: no more reinforcements would come. This was a fight to the end. Death was in her eyes, promising vengeance for every single fallen witch.

A bellowing scream pierced the air.

Remy whirled to the source of that scream. It was Bern, collapsed on his knees, and in his arms—Raffiel’s drooping body. One of Raffiel’s eyes was missing, gushing blood where a knife had pierced his skull. Time seemed to freeze, every weapon pausing in mid-air to watch the fallen prince. He was not just one more dead body—he had been the Crown Prince of the High Mountain Court . . . and she didn’t see him fall.

Remy’s mind shattered into a million pieces. She never got to know him. The glimmer of hope that they would have a happy ending torn cruelly away before it ever began. An hour ago she had not known he was alive, and there he lay, dead once more.

Heart exploding, Remy searched frantically for someone to save him, but every potential ally was far away and outnumbered. Even Bern was forced to drop Raffiel’s body and grab his sword again, lest he be cut down too.

Remy stole one more glance at her fallen brother, then returned to the fray.

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