Page 46 of The High Mountain Court

Chapter Twelve

Carys came to collect the prince while Remy bathed in the enormous marble tub. Hale had called to her, “See you at the game,” through the bathing chamber door and left. Carys had mumbled something to him, and Remy had heard Hale’s growling, “Shut up,” in reply. They had a strange dynamic, Hale and his warriors—they seemed like his fatal weapons one moment and his bickering siblings the next. Remy had seen nothing like it, that familial bond. It made her ache for the siblings she had lost.

Remy took her time getting dressed. The scarlet, floor-length gown was made of light flowing fabric that billowed at her feet. She couldn’t help the tightening in her chest as she adjusted it. The top of the gown was little more than a V shape of fabric. It had sleeveless straps over her shoulders and a plunging neckline that ended right above her belly button. Remy gulped. People wore more clothing to go swimming.

Bri had left a bag of jewelry for her and another bag of makeup in the bottom of the wardrobe. Remy donned two long gold chains that hung down her chest. They were more beautiful than the thin leather collar she wore and accented the prince’s gold ring. She was grateful for the extra coverage on her skin that the chains provided too. She put on the three gold rings, bangles, and matching gold cuffs for the top of her rounded ears. Then she put on the shimmering red teardrop earrings, the gems inside shining like rubies. A sudden thought seized her: they probably were rubies. The prince had left her in this room with enough wealth to feed an entire village . . . an intrusive voice told her she could grab them and run. She pushed the thought away.

She was sick of rural taverns and keeping quiet, hiding her powers, and living in fear. Hale offered her protection, and she didn’t have to hide who she was to accept it. It felt superb to be allowed to exist for once. Remy wondered how much better her life would be the longer she stayed with him.

She looked at herself in the large mirror next to the armoire and didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her. She looked so much like her mother . . . though her mother would have never worn something so revealing . . . but she carried herself with that same easy, regal air. It was there in her, buried in her soul somewhere. Her mother’s voice whispered in her memories, “Never let anyone else tell you who you are, Remy, even me. No one decides how bright you shine but you.”

Remy realized that the reflection in the mirror had tears in her eyes. She sniffed.

Not now, she scolded herself.

She grabbed the makeup bag, powdering her red nose, rouging her tear-stained cheeks. She lined her eyes in kohl and painted her lips the same red as her dress. It took her a few tries to get it right. She was not very skilled at face painting, but the courtesans had indulged her occasionally, showing her the art of makeup during lulls in business. Heather had always told her to take it off straight away. The brown witch said she didn’t want it to give patrons the wrong impression . . . well, that was the exact impression Remy was trying to make right now.

Remy slipped on the red high heels left in the bottom of the armoire. They already hurt her feet as she bobbled around like a newborn calf for a minute before she got the hang of it. She adjusted her neckline one more time in the mirror, terrified one of her breasts might fall out of the thin fabric. She huffed a frustrated sigh and decided it would have to be good enough. Remy put on her new black cloak, clasping it at the neckline. Luckily, it covered most of her body except for the tiniest peek of red.

She went to the door to find Briata and Talhan leaning against either side of the hallway chatting. They straightened when they saw her. Talhan’s mouth dropped open as he looked at her face, his eyes drifting down that peek of body behind the cloak. Bri pushed off the wall and smacked her twin hard on the shoulder. Talhan coughed and averted his eyes.

“You look good,” Bri said with an approving grin. “Let’s go.”

* * *

They held the game on the upper floor of an exclusive inner city parlor. The establishment arranged the bottom floor in several small seating areas. Large leather armchairs clustered around low wooden tables. Two card tables sat at either end of the space. A crystal chandelier hung from the center of the room. Wisps of cigar smoke circled the dimly lit space. Only a few sconces dotted the forest green walls. This was where high-society fae came to drink and gamble.

Talhan set three glasses of ale on the small side table that Bri and Remy sat around. They had picked a place in the corner where they could survey the room. In a room filled mostly with fae, they were some of the biggest and most brutish looking ones Remy had ever seen. All armed to the teeth, they dressed as if they were about to enter a battlefield and not a gambling hall. She spotted a few witch’s collars in the crowd too. One witch caught her stare and gave her the briefest nod, as though they were sisters and she, too, knew what it was to be owned by a powerful fae.

“What did you learn?” Bri asked Talhan, adjusting the dagger at her hip. Bri and Talhan had come dressed for war too.

“There’s five players and the Heir of Saxbridge, though Neelo isn’t playing,” Talhan said, taking a long drag on the foam of his drink. Remy guessed that he had talked the bartender into sharing some details of this secret game. Talhan looked cautiously to his twin. “Renwick is here.”

“Shit,” Bri cursed.

Remy froze. Renwick Vostemur, the Witchslayer, was the only son of the Northern King, Hennen Vostemur. Renwick had earned the name for all the red witch heads he brought his father over the years. Ruthless, he was equally cunning and cruel. Remy prayed they would not need her for this plan. If Hale could simply win the ring outright, she wouldn’t need to be called up. Remy did not know if she could look into the eyes of the Witchslayer. What if he threatened to take her head once he learned of her red witch powers? Her throat tightened.

Bri’s hand on her arm snapped her out of her panic. “Hey. We won’t let him harm you. You are safe under Hale’s protection.”

Remy swallowed, giving the briefest of nods to Bri.

Talhan pushed the glass of ale to her. “Drink this,” he said, as if it were a magical elixir to fix all her problems. Remy frowned at the ale. She had spent her life in taverns, permanently branding the smell of old spilled ale on her skin. That stench still took hold of her stomach.

“I do not drink ale,” she said with a frown. Talhan shrugged and grabbed Remy’s drink for himself.

“Here,” Bri said, passing Remy a flask. “You need some liquid courage.”

Remy took the flask. The liquid burned hot down her throat and she screwed up her face, trying not to gag on it. The hairs on her arm stood up.

“What is that?” Remy sputtered.

Bri threw a devious smile back at her, “Moonshine.”

“Ugh, it’s awful.” Remy gagged, coughing out the taste on her tongue.

“It grows on you.” Bri winked. She turned to her brother, “Who else is playing?”

“The Western Princess, Abalina. And her cousin, Delta. Both have seats at the table,” Talhan said, averting his eyes from his twin.

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