Page 111 of The High Mountain Court

The guards still gravely outnumbered them. Remy scanned the hall, searching for Hale. There was Hale, fighting his way to the dais. Even as Hale cut down another guard, he fixed his eyes on the man he had once known as his father.

Remy rushed for him, pushing past servants running to cower behind overturned tables and fae courtiers screaming and holding each other. The general din was much quieter now. So many bodies lay strewn across the floors. The room reeked of blood and bile.

Remy reached Hale’s side. She jumped straight into his war dance, moving blades and fists. They reached the steps to the dais together. The crush of guards around the royals was too tight for the guards to use their long swords.

Remy ran onto the marble steps. From this angle, she was level with the guards’ knees. She sliced through tendons, the guards too distracted by Baba Morganna’s magic to notice her until her blade was piercing their skin. She dodged them as they fell, one after the other, down the dais stairs.

Hale reached the top step, slaying the last standing guard between him and his father. Remy stood breathless behind Hale, watching as Belenus stepped in front of his father.

Belenus’s sword shook as he pointed it to Hale, but hate filled his eyes.

“You destroy everything you touch, Hale,” Belenus snarled, his sour frown deepening. “You were never a part of this family, yet you’ve always been destroying it.”

“Step aside, Bel.” Hale heaved a breath, shaking his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Remy’s eyes stung. Despite everything, he still viewed the male before him as his little brother.

In a blur of movement, Belenus swept his sword, knocking Hale’s sword wide as he stepped into his brother’s body. In the same second, Belenus pulled out a hidden dagger and drove it into Hale’s heart.

* * *

Remy screamed.

“Bel.” Hale sucked in a drag of air.

Anger, horror, despair all seemed to flash across Belenus’s face. Remy rushed to Hale, but her Fated stayed standing. Remy couldn’t breathe. Her pounding heart deafened all other sounds as she clung to Hale.

But Hale lifted his head.

He pulled the dagger out of his chest and threw it down the steps behind him. Lifting his right hand, he examined the Shil-de ring on his ring finger.

“It can’t be,” Belenus whispered in horror, retreating a step.

“I’m sorry, brother.” Hale’s voice thickened. Before Belenus could lift his sword in his stupor, Hale swung his blade, slicing open his brother’s neck.

Blood poured down Belenus’s fine clothes as he choked, grasping for his throat with wide, unseeing eyes.

Hale loosed a heavy sob as he watched Belenus collapse.

“No!” roared the Eastern King. The shock on his face, now, watching gouts of blood pump out of his son’s neck, was the first glimmer of emotion on his face since he arrived.

King Norwood bellowed, blind with rage as he charged Hale.

Remy moved to back up Hale when a whipping wind sounded in her fae ears. She had just enough time to duck before a shining thin sword swung over her. She looked to her left and into the watery green eyes of King Vostemur.

“Well, Remini.” He smiled, still cold and calm even amongst the bloodshed. “I guess I will have to kill you myself.”

Swords clanged as Hale and King Norwood dueled behind her. She adjusted her grip on her dagger, and King Vostemur huffed a laugh.

“Soon it will be Queen Remini, Vostemur,” she promised. She knew it the moment she saw Raffiel fall. Her entire life had led her to this point. She could not hide away any longer from who she was. “I will take back everything you have stolen from my family. But you won’t live long enough to see it.”

Vostemur wiped a spot of blood off his hand, otherwise remaining pristine, unmarred by the bloodbath swirling around him.

“You are going to cut me down with that puny dagger, Princess?” He laughed. “I’ve been slicing this sword through people since before you were even born.”

King Vostemur swung his sword in feigned swipes meant to push Remy backward. She darted out of reach, circling him, but every time she charged, his sword was right there again. For a portly, half-drunk, old man he was damn quick with his weapon.

She ducked under his blade, rushing in once more. This time she made contact, cutting across his leg. It was not a killing blow but would slow him down. The Northern King howled as he kicked her again with his other leg.

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