Page 14 of The High Mountain Court

She tiptoed toward them before a voice halted her.

“Now this I would like to see.”

Remy looked over her shoulder to see Hale, arms crossed, leaning against a tree. His pewter eyes twinkled as he saw the scowl on her face. Remy might have moved quietly through the forest, but Hale was as silent as death to sneak up on her like that.

“You really think you can catch a pheasant with a knife?” Hale’s brows rose into his hairline as he grinned at her.

“I do.” Remy sneered. Great, now she would have to prove him wrong.

“I will take that bet.” Hale’s cheeks dimpled.

“Good,” Remy spat. “If I win, you will buy me a new bow and arrows in the next town we stop in.”

Hale’s grin widened.

“Agreed,” he said, his voice a deep rumble, “and when I win, you have to give me a compliment.”

“You’re so deprived of friendly words that you have to place bets for them?” Remy laughed.

“Not from everyone, just from you.” Hale’s smoky gaze brightened. “I know how much you’d hate it.”

It was the worst punishment he could think of for her, saying one agreeable thing to him.

“Fine.” Remy squinted at him. “But no scaring them off.”

Hale lifted and dropped his shoulders, his only form of acknowledgment.

Remy eyed the pheasants still digging in the forest floor. She crept from rock to rock, stealthily edging closer. She couldn’t hear Hale behind her, but she sensed the prince was there.

If she had a bow, she would be within striking distance. She knew there was no point throwing the knife. It was sure to miss. She sensed Hale’s smugness. But the prince had forgotten one very important thing: she had red witch magic.

Remy felt the rising buzz of magic flow out to her hands. Her splayed fingers glowed red, as she cast her thread of magic, looping it around the three fat pheasants.

The rest of the flock fled over the hillside, but her magic snared the three birds, now suspended in the air. Remy made quick work with her knife, slicing their necks. She held her catch by their feet so that the blood wouldn’t drip on her. She smiled at the prince.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Hale huffed. “Let it serve me right for underestimating you, witch.”

“I’m looking forward to my new bow, Your Highness.”

Hale’s pupils dilated as he stared, seemingly mesmerized by Remy’s glowing eyes. It was a strange sensation to have someone look at her with appreciation instead of fear. The only people who didn’t run from her magic were Heather and Fenrin. But Hale looked at her with awe, not terror.

Remy dropped her eyes to her feet.

“Don’t,” Hale said, his voice dropping an octave. Remy looked back at him, but the intensity of his attention made her shift on her feet. “You don’t need to hide your magic from me.”

“Yes, you’ve already made it clear that I’m a hiding coward.” Remy jabbed.

“I shouldn’t have said that.” Now Hale was the one to shift, his posture tightening.

“It’s true though.” Remy kept her eyes down, willing away her magic. She felt it ebbing, the glow fading.

Hale took another step and was right before her, a hair’s breadth away. He lifted her chin so she would look at him. Her magic flared again, and she saw the red glow reflected in his eyes.

“You did what you needed to survive.” His voice softened. His breath warmed her cheek. “But your magic . . . it’s as powerful as it is beautiful.”

Remy’s heart leapt into her throat. No one had ever complimented her magic before. It had always been something to be ashamed of. But beautiful? He thought she looked beautiful with glowing red eyes and hands? It couldn’t be true. But if the prince lied, she wondered why he said it at all.

“Thank you,” Remy whispered, trapped in those gleaming eyes and the faintest connection of his finger pressed against her chin. Hale’s gravity tugged at her, as if she would plummet into his arms if she released her control.

Remy scolded herself. It was not only a ridiculous thought, but also a dangerous one.

She cleared her throat.

“Shall we go bring back some dinner, then?” she asked, halfheartedly stepping out of his touch. She didn’t know what else to say to him. Hale had only been rigid and callous before this, and she did not know what to do with this version of him . . . but at least she had won herself a new bow.

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