Page 64 of The High Mountain Court

A knock came at the door. Carys stood, “I’ll get it,” she said, wiping her face with a napkin.

When Carys returned, she was frowning. She grabbed Remy by the forearm, pulling her to stand.

“We’ve had a long day—we’re going to bed,” Carys instructed. She clenched a piece of cream-colored paper in her fist as she nodded to Remy’s large traveling pack in the hallway.

“Thanks for the dinner, Morgs, you know how I adore your cooking.” Carys winked at her sister.

Remy followed Carys down the hall to a sitting room. Carys dropped her pack with a heavy thump onto the floor and pushed the two tiny couches together on either side of a worn wooden chest. Carys opened the chest and started pulling out cushions and blankets, transforming the lounge furniture into a bed. She did it in a silent, practiced way, without acknowledging or releasing the paper clenched in her hand.

“What’s going on?” Remy cut in, watching the female fae manically make the bed.

Carys collapsed, sitting onto the bed, her head in her hands.

“I knew this would happen,” she said, dropping her shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” Remy sat beside her.

“The last time Hale communicated with King Norwood by fae fire, the King told him to stop in the city to meet with him before continuing on his quest.” Carys passed Remy the wrinkled piece of paper in her hand. “The King is curious to meet you, it seems.”

Remy unfolded the crinkled piece of paper. A watermark of the Eastern crest marked the back. On the front in flourished writing was an invitation.

“A ball to celebrate the Autumnal Equinox,” Remy read.

“The herald who brought it made very clear that they expect both of us to attend.” Malice touched her voice. “It took them a handful of hours to find us, faster than Hale or I predicted. The King doesn’t like his son keeping secrets.”

“Is he really as bad as he seems?” Remy muttered to the invitation.

“Worse.” Carys frowned. It was an invitation to a royal ball, and yet it felt like a punishment. The heavy hand of the Eastern King’s control was felt all the way in this townhouse at the edge of the city.

“At least we don’t have to meet with him alone,” Remy said, grasping for a positive.

“At least there will be excellent food and drinks.” Carys leaned into Remy, her voice brightening. “And we can go to the high road tomorrow and buy too-expensive dresses and charge it to Hale’s account.”

“Am I to wear a dress like the one in Ruttmore again?” Remy grimaced. The idea of parading around not only in front of the Eastern Court but the King himself in nothing but a slip of fabric made her queasy.

“Gods, no.” Carys laughed. “If anything, we’ll try to cover you up as much as possible.” Remy narrowed her eyes at Carys, forcing her to continue. “Oh, don’t give me that look. I don’t need to tell you that you are the most beautiful witch I have ever seen and that red dress nearly lit every male in the room on fire.”

Remy smirked. She did need to hear it.

“But tomorrow will be a different game entirely,” Carys said, cocking her head.

“How so?”

“Ruttmore was about drawing every eye to you. Now, we want them to not see you for what you really are.”

Remy looked to Carys, rubbing her hands nervously down her legs. “And what am I?”

“You are a weapon,” Carys said. “And many of those greedy fae will want to possess you for themselves. We don’t want them seeing you as a powerful red witch, and we definitely don’t want the King to see how important you are to Hale. I wouldn’t be surprised if Hale avoided you entirely the whole night.”

There it was again. Even Carys could tell that Remy was important to Hale, though she didn’t say how. Remy wished they could lay it all bare, these words and half-spoken truths. She wished she could be who she really was and not hide her powers anymore.

“Right,” Remy said, shucking off her shoes. “Let’s get some sleep. We have a big day of shopping tomorrow.”

Carys’s face split into a wide, white-toothed grin.

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