Page 17 of The High Mountain Court

“We will not make it to the campsite if you are barefoot. The path turns to gravel up ahead,” he said, as if that were reason enough for his pack’s destruction.

Wrapping the leather around the sole of Remy’s foot, Hale reached for her boots, unlacing them and holding her foot tightly. Goosebumps rose along her leg as his thumb swept over the top of her foot.

The prince poked the bootlace through the leather as if it were paper. It was such a minor act of fae strength, and yet it was still impressive. He laced up the leather as if he had done it a million times before, wrapping the extra laces around Remy’s ankle and tying a bow. He was careful to avoid the wounds that he had not seen but sensed.

He put Remy’s foot down and moved to her other. Remy didn’t know what to say. Seeing him knelt before her, lacing up her makeshift shoes, felt incredibly intimate. Everyone else had fallen back into simple conversation, eating and drinking water. But Remy only stared as the prince’s deft hands moved over her foot.

When he finished, their gazes locked. What was it about his eyes? She hated how they seemed to say so much more than his voice ever did. She hated how her eyes might tell him something in return.

“Good?” he asked in that low, rumbling voice.

Remy gave a tiny nod, pulling her foot away, and stood. Her raw skin still burned, but Heather’s ointment was already helping.

Hale moved back to his pack and hauled it up over his shoulder.

“No more breaks. Let’s go,” Hale said and took off again.

Remy rolled her eyes. Hale was equal parts general and prince . . . and far too good at giving orders.

In a single breath, the fae seemed ready to go.

Fenrin moved to grab the pack nearest him, thinking it was his. He almost yanked his arm off.

“Gods,” he said, looking to Briata. “Is it filled with rocks?”

The fae easily lifted her pack and put it on her back, her muscles flexing at the movement. Remy watched Briata through narrowed eyes. Fenrin was not weak. The pack must have weighed a ton, especially considering several weapons already weighted down each of the fae.

“Just the normal gear.” Briata winked at Fenrin. “And a couple lucky stones.”

It took the witches longer to pack their belongings. Talhan helped Heather, lifting her pack up to put on her shoulders.

They carried on, crunching through the leaves, the world quiet once more. Remy moved her feet with such relief, not having that grinding, burning pain every time she shifted her weight. She was grateful to Heather and her healing remedies for saving her feet from an arduous walk. She was grateful to the inconveniently handsome prince too.

* * *

The cool morning breeze whipped through Hale’s hair as he stood at the clearing ahead. Carys had taken off her pack the moment they stopped and now leaned against a tree, looking in the same direction.

As Remy neared them, a village emerged. Downhill from the trail, rooftops and chimneys poked above the tree line. A signpost on the trail pointed eastward: Newpond 10 miles. Someone had nailed a smaller, scraggly sign below it: Guilford 1 mile. So the tiny village they saw was Guilford, then, and if they stayed on the trail, they would reach a bigger town called Newpond. Remy tucked that information into the back of her mind. She hoped to stumble upon a map in Guilford to get her bearings.

She suspected they were heading to the border between the Western Court and Southern Court, but she couldn’t confirm it without a map. Remy, Heather, and Fenrin had worked their way only through the rural towns in the middle of the Western Court.

These quiet villages arose all along the Western trails. They serviced back-road travelers and proffered all the usual merchants and traders. Whatever they needed for their journey, they would find in the town below.

Fenrin, who had been trailing farther behind Remy all day, caught up. The grueling past two days were wearing him out.

Heather approached the lookout with Fenrin. The Twin Eagles were right behind them. Talhan broke into a smile when he saw the village of Guilford. He had been talking incessantly about sleeping in a bed all morning. They offloaded their packs and plopped down on them straight away, seizing any opportunity for a break.

“What supplies do we need?” Hale asked without looking back to them.

“Just the usual restock.” Carys folded her arms.

“Flint and twine for me.” Briata grinned like a fox. “And maybe something to refill my flask.”

“I wouldn’t mind having a look at the pocketknives,” Talhan said. He looked to the three witches and remembered. “Oh, and three more bowls and spoons.”

Talhan carried light wood receptacles and utensils for his comrades. But he only carried four, one for each of the fae. The three witches shared Talhan’s bowl while he shared with his twin, but three more bowls would help.

“I need some supplies as well,” Heather piped up. She had used up a few of her healing remedies on Remy’s feet.

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