Page 112 of The High Mountain Court

Remy rolled backward into a crouch. She held those monstrous green eyes as she stood. She let him see every promise of death in them. As she lifted her hand, her dagger flew from her grip, knocked away by a guard who had sneaked up behind her.

Remy spun—another guard was running up the stairs at her.

Shit.

King Vostemur lifted his sword again, and Remy ducked in toward his body, grasping at the amulet around his neck. Her fingers grazed the red stone, causing it to flare red. Remy was thrown to the side, but it was enough. The amulet of Aelusien gave her a sudden strobe of power, and she threw it out at the three guards at her back, sending them flying across the room.

Vostemur’s eyes widened, seeing how readily she absorbed the amulet’s power. He hastily grabbed its gold chain and tucked the powerful stone into his jacket. If she wanted a boost of power again, she would have to kill him for it.

Remy dodged as Vostemur attacked again. She searched wildly around her. She needed a weapon.

Hale and King Norwood were still battling behind King Vostemur, and the Eastern King had Hale pinned against the wall. Norwood knew what he was doing. He sneered, knowing the Shil-de ring protected Hale. But he could keep him from getting to Remy in time to save her.

Remy scanned the room, searching for aid. She couldn’t find any. The witches were still raining hellfire on the remaining guards while Bern, the Eagles, and Carys battled the remaining guards and courtiers through the gory terrain of dead bodies.

Another four guards charged up the stairs to aid their King. Remy dropped toward her dagger, but a guard kicked it out of her reach. Three swords pointed at her from every angle.

The guard to her right gasped, blood spurting from his neck. A loud clanging sounded, and the guard fell face-first to the ground. Behind him stood a servant wielding a dented silver tray and clutching a bloody carving knife. No, not a servant.

Fenrin.

Fenrin stood there in Northern servant garb, panting.

Her relief was short lived as searing-hot pain slashed across her arm. King Vostemur had sliced open her bicep, and Remy spun to face him.

“Goodbye, Princess.” He smiled and raised his sword.

Suddenly, Vostemur grunted as the air punched out of him. His eyes went impossibly wide, bulging from his skull. His jacket began flowing with blood, though no wound was visible. Sword clattering to the ground, he looked over Remy’s shoulder.

“Impossible.” His voice was barely audible over the gurgling of blood from his mouth.

Remy turned, and her heart seized.

Ruadora, Princess of the High Mountain Court, held the Immortal Blade.

An ethereal white glow emanated from the sword, shrouding her little sister. Her hair blew behind her in an invisible wind, her eyes blazing. She smiled, possessed by the power of the Immortal Blade. Rua twisted the glowing sword. The Northern King cried out in agony as he fell to his knees.

“This is for my people and for my family.” Her voice like a wildcat, she swept the glowing blade through the air.

King Vostemur cried out, but nothing stopped the landing blow. His severed head volleyed into the shrieking crowd. Remy watched in awe as none other than her little sister finally slew their family’s sworn enemy.

The fight was over, or so she thought—a fatal error she realized as she turned her back on the remaining guard. Fenrin screamed her name.

So strange to hear his screams, so many screams of her name coming from every direction.

Why?

The room had slowed, her vision blurred, her ears echoing with muffled sounds like she was under water. She felt warm liquid dripping down her stomach and the legs of her trousers. She looked down and saw it: the tip of a long sword protruded out her middle.

Someone pulled the sword free, and the world sped up again as Remy collapsed to the white marble floor. How fitting to die on the same tiles as the rest of her family.

One by one the screams ended around her, Rua cutting down every remaining guard in easy swoops, the blade never needing to touch its victims.

And then Hale’s face appeared over her.

* * *

Hale’s eyes shone from his blood-speckled face. Blood soaked his hands. Her blood, she realized. Remy couldn’t feel her legs anymore, only sensing the sticky warmth of her blood pooling beneath her.

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