Page 67 of The High Mountain Court

“I wanted to see why my brother tried to hide you from us,” he said, giving her one more sweeping look. “I was expecting a rare treasure.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint,” Remy said flatly. The music played its last long note.

“Everything Hale touches ends in disappointment,” Belenus said, bowing to her and walking off before she could rise from her curtsy.

What an awful, hateful man. No wonder Hale avoided Wynreach like the plague. Imagine growing up with that as your little brother.

Remy pushed her way back to the food tables but couldn’t find Carys or Bri. She grabbed a goblet of wine and kept searching. Hale and Talhan weren’t where they stood either.

“Dancing with a prince, lucky girl,” a middle-aged female said to her. She wore a short-sleeved lapis gown, her neck dripping with diamonds. She had a pleasant if not bored look on her face. “Many eligible young ladies will be quite jealous of you tonight, my dear.”

Remy tried to laugh, but it came out more like a snort. She could imagine no one fawning after Belenus.

“The prince is an accomplished dancer,” Remy said, throwing out the first thing she thought to say.

“For a foreigner to court life, you dance like a princess.” The female clasped her hands as she smiled, swept up in the romance of the dance. “It is a shame you are not fae.”

She took Remy by the hand and pulled her into conversations with four other middle-aged males. She showed Remy off like she was a new oddity for them all to examine. Remy nodded to each one when introduced, forgetting their names the second they left the older female’s mouth. Not saying a word, Remy continued to scan the room for her friends.

She found herself jostled into another conversation, squished between two bantering old males. They droned on about trade, the changing of seasons, and redecorating their houses. The group seemed to ignore her. She wasn’t fae, so she wasn’t worth noticing.

“What a waste it was for Gedwin to claim that bastard.” Remy’s attention snapped back to the male at her right. She considered unsheathing her new dagger as she scowled at him.

“Well, if his Fated had lived, it would have been worth it,” the female who had found Remy chided. Sounds of the room pressed in on Remy more. The heat and the noise made her feel queasy.

“No one saw the Northern Rebellion coming.” A gruff laugh came from another male across the circle.

“Still, he shouldn’t have hung the succession of the Eastern Court on a Fated love match,” the male to her right said incredulously.

“What was that princess’ name again? There was Raffiel, Rivitus . . . Ruafora was it?” the female recounted, swirling her hand through the air. Remy held her breath as they spoke.

“No, that was the last one,” the gruff one said.

“Risabella?” the female mused.

“I think not, but it was just as strange.” The male chuckled.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, regardless.” She waved off the thought.

“King Norwood should bend to the Northern Court if he knows what’s good for him,” the fourth person said in a scratchy, thick voice.

“That’s blasphemy,” the female balked.

“You’re telling me if Vostemur walked in here you wouldn’t bend the knee to him?” the male’s eyebrows rose as he replied.

Remy’s magic stirred at the name of the Northern King. The conversation faded under her ragged breathing and her heart pounding in her ears. She needed to get out of there before she started glowing red. She pushed her way through the crowd, making her way toward the opened archway and the empty balcony beyond.

She was halfway through the crowd when she felt the air shift. Her whole body froze a second before the screams started.

* * *

The room filled with shrieks as the crowd pushed back against her, away from the center of the grand hall. All eyes held fast on the scene before them. Remy craned her neck to see past the tall male pushing in front of her.

She saw the flash of metal armor first. Three males stood in the center of the room. Clad in full suits of armor, they faced the dais. The one in the center held an empty burlap sack, the contents of which were strewn about his feet. Remy’s stomach roiled. They were severed heads.

“What is the meaning of this!” thundered King Norwood from his throne. A line of Eastern guards formed a step below the dais, protecting the King.

“Presents from King Vostemur,” the tallest guard boomed. The three of them were impossibly tall, seeming like giants in the fae crowd.

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