Page 60 of The High Mountain Court

Hale’s mother was still alive, and Remy couldn’t let his shame keep him from seeing her ever again. It left a deep hole in her heart to think someone had the opportunity to hug their mother again and didn’t.

“You seem awfully confident that all this will happen,” Hale said. He had shuffled closer to her so that the whole sides of their bodies touched. It felt incredibly intimate after days of barely looking at each other.

“It will happen.” Remy nodded.

“And how would you know?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Remy said confidently.

“You plan on sticking around after all this?” Hale said, turning his gaze back to the river. “You are a red witch—you will want to stay in Yexshire.”

“Red witches used to serve the courts of every kingdom, you know, not just the High Mountain Court.” Remy couldn’t believe what she was offering by saying it, but she forced herself to continue. “And you, Your Highness, and your rag-tag bunch could surely use the guidance of a red witch.”

Hale chortled. “Yes, I suppose you are right.” He bent his head down to look at Remy. His face pulled so close to hers that she felt his hot breath on her cheek. “I think you are the first witch I’ve ever met who feels free to speak so boldly. There is no point to people who tell me what I want to hear. It is the very thing I looked for in each of my soldiers: warriors who would be honest with me, tell me when I was out of line, be loyal to me only if I remained loyal to them.”

“They sound like good people.” If the rest of his crew was anything like Carys, Talhan, and Bri, then they must be.

“They are.” His eyes softened, scanning her face. “So you want a job then? You’d be willing to follow me?”

Remy shrugged, and he grinned. Her voice was softer than she intended when she spoke. “I will pledge to you the same thing that your crew has: I will be loyal to you as long as you are loyal to me.”

Hale smiled then, a true genuine smile, and sighed. His breath tickled her lips. Each hair on her body rose as though trying to reach out and touch him.

Remy had been hiding all her life and it still hadn’t protected her. Maybe living openly as a red witch with the protection of a royal fae would be the safer option for her. She knew the mission they were on would eventually fail, and she needed protection for when they realized they would never succeed. But there was something else too. Something inside her that said, despite everything, she wished to stay by Hale’s side.

Hale’s grin widened as he looked at her. “And as my new head witch, do you have any advice you would like to give me?”

“My first guidance I would bestow on you is to go see your mother.” Remy’s smile was so wide her cheeks pinched her eyes half closed.

Hale leaned over and tucked her flapping hair behind her ear. Puzzled by the gentleness of the gesture, Remy looked at him. She felt ensnared in the long stare they shared, lost in those gray eyes.

The boat rocked, and they pitched forward. Remy clawed at the railing as the boat evened out again. Hale pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at her.

“I take it you are not looking forward to heading home?” Remy said, changing the subject.

“No.” Hale sighed. “The East is a beautiful and pleasant court, so I am told, though I’ve never seen it much that way.”

“I’m sorry for that.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Hale added. “When we dock on the other side of the Crushwold . . . I will have to be a different sort of person.”

“More princely?” She jested.

“No, I . . .” Hale struggled for the words, and Remy regretted being so lighthearted. “The world sees me as . . . they call me the Bastard Prince.”

“I know,” Remy said. She had called him that before, and she hated that she had wielded those words like a weapon. “I will forever regret calling you that.”

Hale looked to her, one side of his face pulling up as he said, “Thank you.”

Remy knew how much those names dug their claws into a person. She knew how being called a witch had evolved into an insult over the years, as if she were something evil or lesser than others. And she knew how—despite how hard a person tried to not let those words sink into them—they would linger. Then a person would start to believe them to be true. It stung to know she had ever called him a bastard; she had added to that belief.

“So you become the person they fear you to be?” Remy guessed.

“It’s nice, this.” Hale’s eyes crinkled at the corners.

“What?”

“Talking to someone who actually understands what it is like to pretend to be something they’re not.”

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