Page 53 of The High Mountain Court

“And what goals do I have beyond drinking and fucking?” Hale cocked his head. His searing palm swept down Remy’s side like a brand, resting on her hip. His rough fingers squeezed into her skin.

Bern narrowed his eyes at Hale, unamused.

“To stamp out the rising power in the Northern Court,” Bern said as he shifted his gaze and spoke to Remy directly. “I think my employer would rather you have it, anyway.”

Remy’s throat tightened. What did he mean by that? What did he know?

“Then why are you here?” Hale asked with a chilling slowness.

“I may have been the first one to notice,” Bern said, shifting glances between the two of them, “but the others will soon figure out what you have done. I think Abalina is on to you. You must make haste.”

* * *

Talhan, Briata, and Carys were ready to move when Remy and Hale reached their door. The Twin Eagles sat on their packs on the floor, talking as though they sat around a campfire. Carys lounged on the bed by the window. Each had their weapons out, cleaning and sharpening them, as though an army lay on the other side of the door. The life of a warrior, Remy thought. They were always ready to fight or run.

Hale lifted his chin at them and all three were up on their feet, slewing their heavy packs over their shoulders.

The harbinger of bad news had disappeared as swiftly as he came. There was no sign of Bern as they moved down the hallway to Heather and Fenrin’s room. Hale gave a light knock. It took Heather a moment to open the door and when she did her face looked strained, nearly panicked.

“What’s wrong?” Remy asked, pushing in front of Hale.

“Fenrin, he’s . . . not well.” Heather replied, wringing her hands.

“I can come . . . ,” a weak, croaking voice called from inside the room. Remy brushed past Heather into the space. Hale was telling the Twin Eagles to ready the horses. Their heavy boots rumbled down the stairs. Carys remained in the hall, keeping watch.

When Remy got into the room, she inhaled sharply. Fenrin lay on the bed, ghost white and sweating. Dark half-moons bulged out from under his eyes. He was still in his riding clothes from the day’s travel the morning before. A green balm was spread across his chest, his shirt unbuttoned to the navel.

“It has gotten this much worse over the last few hours?” Remy whispered. She had seen Heather at dinner, and she still seemed to think Fenrin would be fine. But this . . . he looked on the brink of death.

Fenrin struggled to sit up, wheezing as though his lungs were filled with cotton wool. Remy rushed over to him and pushed him back down with more strength than she intended.

“Lie down,” she ordered. Fenrin had no fight in him to deny her. He smelled of mint and astringent leaves, one of Heather’s healing concoctions.

“Will he be all right?” Hale’s voice came from where he leaned, arms crossed, against the closed doorway.

“His fever is breaking,” Heather said with a tinge of relief. She held a glass bottle to the light to see how much was still inside. “He will be all right in a few more days, but it will be a long recovery.”

Remy did not fear becoming infected with whatever malady had befallen Fenrin. Hale, too, would likely be immune because he was fae, but Heather was looking gaunt and green as well. Remy knew Heather would also soon run the gambit of this infection. At least Heather would heal Fenrin enough to take care of herself by then.

“Do you have enough?” Remy asked, waving to the assortment of brown glass bottles on the table. “Enough for you too?”

“Yes,” Heather said, grimacing at how Remy knew she had taken ill as well. Fenrin’s eyes fluttered shut, as though sleep might claim him at any moment.

“He cannot travel in that condition. Neither should you, if you don’t want to end up like him.” Hale tilted his chin at Fenrin. “But Remy and I must go.”

“No.” Fenrin’s eyes opened at that. “We are coming with you.”

Remy put a cool, gentle hand to her friend’s burning forehead. “You cannot come. You need to rest.” She turned back to Hale. His eyes tracked her every movement. “We cannot leave them here either, in case people come looking. The innkeeper knows that they are your servants. We cannot risk them staying here.”

Hale nodded, uncrossing his arms and pushing off the doorframe.

“We will secure private lodgings across the river for you both to recover in. You shouldn’t be around people, anyway,” he said, opening the door behind him. He said something to Carys in the hall. Remy heard the warrior’s boots thudding down the stairs as Hale ducked back into the room.

“Carys is on it.” His eyes darted back and forth between the three of them. “She’ll leave you with enough provisions that you won’t need to leave the lodgings. The people who will come searching for us will have cleared out by then.”

“Who is coming to look for you?” Heather stared at Hale. Even with her calm expression, Remy knew that was her angry face.

“It is fine, Heather,” Remy said carefully, “we have it under control . . .”

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