Page 27 of The High Mountain Court

“Keep moving,” Hale ordered the others. His piercing gray eyes stayed fixed on Remy. She matched his authoritative gaze with one of her own.

The fae all turned and walked at the prince’s orders, but Fenrin and Heather paused. Hale looked over Remy’s shoulder, his voice lethal as he said, “Keep. Moving.”

“They don’t take orders from you,” Remy snarled. Hale’s eyes darted to hers.

She heard Heather call from behind her, “Why don’t we carry on? You two can catch up.”

Remy turned to look at her guardian, quirking her eyebrow. It was unlike Heather to leave her, but perhaps her guardian knew it was best to keep out of this battle. Dipping her chin, Remy gave Heather a silent acknowledgement. She was okay to stay behind. The brown witch looped her arm through Fenrin’s, dragging him along the trail. Fenrin grumbled something as Heather pulled him.

Listening for their steady footsteps marching away, Remy turned back to Hale. The arching of her eyebrow made the muscle in his jaw pop out. Clearly, he did not like that the witches ignored his orders. But Remy was powerful, if only she would claim it, and she was getting precariously close to embracing what she was. When that day came, the prince would have to tread lightly.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” No one got between a witch and her magic. She heard the ocean waves beckoning her. The trail below her boots had turned to sand, but it was too dark to see if it shone silver.

“No,” Hale said, crossing his arms, the sleeves of his jacket straining over his muscled shoulders.

“I won’t light a candle.” Remy relented through gritted teeth. “I just want to see the moon over the ocean.”

She made to dodge around him, but the trail was too narrow and Hale blocked her with ease.

“This isn’t about the ocean,” Hale said. “This is about you trying to distract yourself from what happened today.”

“No, it’s about seeing the ocean and the full moon,” Remy growled.

“This isn’t a joke, witch.” Hale matched her tone. They were two predators standing off, each readying to strike.

“I am not laughing, faerie,” Remy hissed back.

“Get back on the trail. Now.” His entire body was still as stone, but his eyes were raging and wild.

Remy grabbed her last bit of restraint.

“What is wrong with you?” her harsh growl rose as she said, “Why are you pushing me so hard?”

“Because you almost got your head cut off!” Hale exploded. “I should have been paying attention! I should have known that those hunters were fae, and I was too distracted to notice! When I saw that male with the sword, I . . .” He swallowed and ground his teeth so tightly she feared one might break. Even with all that effort, his voice cracked when he spoke again. “Gods, Remy, you almost died.”

Remy. Not witch. Not Red. He had called her by her name.

A long silence stretched between them as Remy watched emotions flash through Hale’s eyes in rapid succession: panic, fear, sorrow. He had thought he wouldn’t reach her in time.

The prince cleared his throat and all those whirling emotions disappeared as fast as they came. It happened so quickly Remy wondered if she had really seen them at all.

“I mean,” Hale said, looking to his shadowed feet. “It would take ages to find another red witch.”

And there it was. That princely, careless mask fit him so well.

Remy knew the prince built walls around himself to keep everyone out, but he flipped from caring to cold with such speed that she didn’t know what was real anymore. Her heart felt those words whether or not they were real: he only cared about her as much as he could gain. He was only scared of losing her because it would mean more work for himself.

Maybe that’s who she was: someone fun to flirt with in taverns and entertain him on his quest for the High Mountain talismans. But she was a tool to him, not a person.

The moonlight danced through the trees. The sound of gentle waves and rustling branches betrayed the storm brewing between them.

Remy let Hale see that his indifference landed harder than any blow. It felt worse to be stomped by his words than a witch hunter’s boot.

Remy glared at Hale.

“Yes, that would be a real tragedy for you,” Remy said, meeting those eyes one more time before turning around and heading back to the trail.

“Remy, I—” Hale called from behind her, but she was already stomping away.

---