Page 21 of The High Mountain Court

Chapter Six

Remy’s stomach was so full she looked pregnant. Hale had given in and ordered an ale for himself too. The dimple of his right cheek twitched as Remy moved the fourth and final slice of cake in front of herself, determined to finish it.

The cake of the day was apple spice with maple buttercream frosting, perfect for the autumn weather. The green witch superbly flavored it with aromatic cinnamon, ginger, and cloves. The frosting melted on her tongue.

“You sure you don’t want some?” Remy said through a mouthful of moist cake. “Last chance.”

Hale pressed his lips to the rim of his glass as he shook his head.

“I want to see if you can do it.” He winked.

“Don’t bet against me,” Remy said, narrowing her eyes at him as she scooped another heaping mouthful.

“I wouldn’t dare.” Hale's eyes twinkled.

His posture had loosened over the hour. She liked this version of Hale. He normally seemed so in control. He unbuttoned the top button of his tunic and rolled up its olive-green sleeves. He looked more like who Remy imagined he was under his princely mask. She wondered if this is how he was with his friends.

The bell on the front door jangled again. They both turned to look, but it was not their comrades. Among the locals drifting in, a traveling couple took a seat in the far corner, and two scruffy men with leathery faces and brawny muscles dropped their packs against the wall before heading to the bar. At the threshold, a father with his adult son stepped in, sniffing appreciatively at the kitchen’s aromas, and they dropped their packs with everyone else’s before seating themselves at a table behind Remy and Hale.

Hale sighed as he watched the other traveling couple settle in, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What’s wrong?” Remy asked, noting his frustration.

“I’m just ready for the others to be back.” Hale gripped his glass tighter.

“They had a lot to get. They probably won’t be back for at least another hour.”

Hale frowned. “Will you just finish that cake so we can go upstairs?”

Remy arched a brow at his mood shift. His leg bounced under the table with impatience, and then Remy knew what was bothering him.

“Do you need to use the lavatory?” She snorted. The muscle in Hale’s jaw flickered as he stared at her.

“Yes, I do,” Hale growled. “So hurry up.”

“Just go. I’ll be fine.” Remy laughed.

“I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“Gods, how long does it take you to piss?” Remy cackled, the sugary cake going to her head.

Hale’s lip curled into a sneer. “Fine.” He threw the cloth napkin in his lap on the table and stood. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Remy bit her lips to keep from laughing as he walked to the back of the inn. She dug into the cake with her fork.

Cutlery clanged as the father and son behind her stood from their table.

All at once, Remy’s chair tipped back. She threw out her hands reflexively to catch her fall.

“Oops, sorry, miss,” the older man behind her said.

He tilted her chair back forward until all four chair legs were steady on the ground again.

“No problem,” Remy said, flustered.

She looked to the bar and met the sharp eyes of the two burly men. Remy’s magic buzzed under her skin. Had her eyes glowed as she was falling? She didn’t think so, but they might have when she was startled.

Looking away, she let her gaze fall to the cake on her plate as the father and son left the inn. She realized the magic she felt buzzing at her fingertips was not hers, it was coming from the men at the bar. They were not humans: they were glamoured fae. There was only one reason Remy could think of for them to be glamoured . . . they were witch hunters. The barman disappeared behind the kitchen door as the two fae males stood up. Remy fixed her eyes on the table in front of her. Her breathing remained steady. Hale would return any moment now.

---