Page 108 of The High Mountain Court

Remy’s eyes widened in horror, her mouth gaping at him.

“Continue, then?” the King said.

Before Remy could scream, the next guard in the line had unsheathed his sword and swung his blade.

The guard yanked on his sword, stuck halfway through the second witch’s neck. He failed to sever her head, a horrifying outcome to a poorly swung sword. The guard put his boot to the witch’s back, kicking her forward and yanking his bloody sword free. The red witch died, her mouth opening and closing like a caught fish. Remy knew she would never be able to get that image out of her mind. If she lived, she would never be able to scrub away the memory of that witch’s body.

Blood dotted Remy’s face and body. She tasted the red witch’s blood on her lips. Another scream rang out through the devastating silence.

She spotted Rua. Her sister trembled so badly her entire body shook. Tears stained her blood-splattered cheeks. She was next in line, flinching and sobbing in turns, waiting for a sword to strike her.

Remy clenched her fist around the ring in her pocket. She would rush to Rua and slip it on her. She could do that, at least. Remy was about to move when the blue curtain opened once more, and Renwick walked in.

He had that same cold, bored air about him as he sat in the ornate chair at his father’s right-hand side.

“The visitors have just arrived, Your Majesty,” he said.

Remy frowned at the way he called his father Your Majesty.

“Excellent,” Vostemur said. He fiddled with the amulet as he spoke. “Bring in the prisoner!” he called across the hall.

The doors creaked open again, and there was Hale, being dragged limply across the floor. His head hung as though he had given up fighting when dumped beside Remy. Two guards loomed on either side of him, waiting for further instructions.

They had given Hale back his dirty tunic, but he was still barefoot. Remy wondered if they gave him his tunic to hide the bruises that had marred his chest.

Hale lifted his head and shook his wavy, brown hair out of his eyes. His face was still purpled with bruises, but he looked mostly recovered, thanks to his fae healing.

“You okay?” he whispered to Remy.

She nodded, choking back tears. She didn’t know why that question broke her so much. He was half dead, and he still worried for her. She was not okay, but she wanted to be for him.

“The Bastard Prince.” King Vostemur sneered. “Consorting with the enemy.”

“Release me at once,” Hale demanded, straightening himself so he looked regal even on his knees.

“Or what?” King Vostemur laughed, inciting the crowd to laugh along with him.

“Or you will feel the wrath of the East.” Hale’s eyes darkened as he glared at the King.

“I see, well . . . I don’t think so.” King Vostemur smiled so broadly his eyes closed to slits.

“My father will not let this go unpunished,” Hale said, his words a biting threat.

King Vostemur’s eyes lit up at Hale, white teeth gleaming through a twisted smile.

“Let’s ask him then, shall we?” Vostemur said, nodding to the blue curtain to his left.

Hale went still as Gedwin Norwood, King of the Eastern Court, strode out from the far corridor. Prince Belenus walked with him, the spitting image of the Eastern King from the snub nose to the pitch black eyes.

Belenus smirked, looking down his pig nose at the prisoners and sitting beside his father. He was still a complete spoiled brat.

The Eastern King peered at them, unsmiling, from under bushy gray eyebrows. He wore a dark metal crown, the Eastern crest carved into its front peak.

Remy looked to Hale. Horror froze her Fated, paralyzed with an expression of terrible pain. The two beheaded bodies still leaked blood onto the stone floor, though they had stopped moving. It felt terrifyingly strange to carry on with the bodies lying there. Rua kept trembling, waiting for the moment the guard behind her might strike.

“What have you done?” Remy shouted at the Eastern King. She would speak for Hale. “You would sacrifice the life of your son—”

“He is not my son.” King Norwood sneered, his lip curling in disgust. Murmured whispers broke out in the crowd.

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