Page 16 of The High Mountain Court

“Oof,” Talhan said, looking at her feet.

“That’s nasty,” Briata said. Her sarcastic smile was at odds with the blunt words she spoke.

The Twin Eagles were a strange mixture of odd, beautiful features and muscular bodies. Talhan reminded Remy of every merry drunk who passed the taverns. Briata reminded her of the gruff old men who spat at everyone except for those with a crude sense of humor.

“Here.” Heather was already pilfering through one of Fenrin’s packs. She pulled out two brown bottles and a thin strip of clean white linen.

Remy realized Hale had disappeared.

“Where’s he gone?” she asked, nodding toward his abandoned pack.

“Probably to have a shit,” Talhan said, biting into a piece of hard cheese.

Briata elbowed her chuckling twin. “He’s going to brief the King.”

Remy arched an eyebrow at them.

Fenrin whispered, “Fae fires.”

Ah, yes.

Remy had forgotten about that magic. Most of the fae’s powers were powers of the body: incredible vision, hearing, smell, healing, and strength. But they also had other powers, like their power to glamour themselves into human form and communicate through fires. Through the flames, they had a direct line of communication with whomever they wanted to reach on the other side. Many royal fae kept a magical fire continuously burning in their palaces, attended by servants who could fetch them if ever they were contacted.

Red witches had stolen that magic from the fae, creating spelled candles to call upon each other. But the candles required vast amounts of magic and only worked for a single use. Remy looked to her pack, where one such red candle remained hidden. Most witches resorted to the same means of communication as the humans, though: sending messenger pigeons or letters through the traveling post.

“I don’t know why he bothers going off like that,” Talhan said, looking in the direction Hale went, “it’s not like you witches can hear the whispers through the fire like the fae can.”

“He’s trying to be mysterious.” Bri snorted.

Remy wondered what Hale was telling his father. Did King Norwood know his son had found a red witch? Did the King know where the Shil-de ring was?

A sharp stinging on the back of her heel pulled Remy from her thoughts. She hissed through clenched teeth as Heather dabbed a healing potion onto Remy’s wounds.

“Damn,” Briata said, shaking her short, brown hair out of her eyes.

“Sorry,” Heather muttered as she yanked the cork out of the second bottle with her teeth. She poured a drop of thick, yellow ointment on her finger and patted it over the wound. At least the ointment didn’t sting.

“You must be a powerful brown witch,” Talhan said, his amber eyes moving from Heather’s skilled hands to Remy’s forehead. “That bruise on her head is gone already.”

Heather’s hands stilled for a moment, but then she carried on.

“My complexion hides the bruising better than some,” Remy said, looking at the twins. “But yes, she is the most skilled brown witch I’ve ever met.”

Heather smiled as she continued her ministrations on Remy’s injured feet.

The brown witch sat back on her heels and said, “I’ll bandage them to prevent any dirt getting into the wounds, but it won’t do much to protect your feet on this terrain.”

“I am not putting my feet back in those things.” Remy tilted her head toward her discarded boots.

Heather made quick work of the bandaging. Remy regretted using up some of her remedies and linens. Heather would be a rich witch were it not for Remy’s constant self-injuries. She silently promised that she would restock the used goods in the next town.

Hale reappeared through the trees. He and Carys exchanged glances and nodded. Hale drew a knife from his belt and cut the brown leather pocket off his pack.

The witches stared at him in confusion.

Without a word, Hale walked to Remy, cutting the leather in half as he moved. He knelt before her.

“What are you doing?” Remy looked at him bewildered as he took her freshly bandaged foot and placed it on his knee. He rolled back her gray trouser leg, the same shade of stone gray as his stormy eyes.

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