Page 66 of The High Mountain Court

Talhan stood to his right. His laughter boomed over the music as Hale regaled a gaggle of gray-haired females with a story. Hale cut a quick glance to her and then looked away again. That was all the recognition he would give her.

“Drinks,” Carys said, steering Remy with ease through the shifting assembly.

Remy distracted herself with food and drink. The sight of so many fae faces made her pulse quicken. What would they do if they knew who she was? Most of them ignored her. She caught a few curious glimpses, but they were fleeting. She released a scant breath as she popped a grape into her cheek.

Bri grabbed a whole turkey leg, eating it with little decorum. Carys drank a whole glass of wine in one gulp and grabbed another. She’d be fine as long as she stayed wedged between these two and avoided any notice from the King.

A flaxen-haired female walked in front of the hungry trio, her eyes snagging on Bri. The golden-eyed warrior smirked at the beautiful courtier and gave her a wink. The female blushed furiously and stormed away. Carys pulled her mouth away from her goblet just long enough to chuckle.

“Hello.” A grating, nasal voice came from behind her.

Remy turned from the table and looked up into the mocking smirk of one of Hale’s brothers. The taller one, he couldn’t have been more than twenty. She tried to recall which one he was. The elder was Belenus, she believed. The thin gold circlet he wore had blurred into his blond hair when he stood on the dais. Remy stared at him as he gave her a look of dissatisfaction. She felt Carys’s foot dip under her large skirts and stomp on her toe and understood.

She was supposed to bow. Remy had only bowed to Hale once, before slamming a door into him. The thought of doing so now seemed laughable.

Remy dropped into a low, awkward bow and mumbled, “Your Highness.”

“Witches never did have many manners,” he said to her with a frown. He looked over to where Hale stood and smirked. Hale was trying and failing not to watch them.

“Apologies, Your Highness,” Remy murmured looking down at her hands. A crowd had gathered around them, flocking to the young prince. This was exactly what she feared happening. She did not want the attentions of Hale’s little brother. It could only lead to bad things.

“Do you know how to dance, witch?” Belenus asked, extending his long, slender hand.

“No,” Remy said, but Belenus flashed her a malevolent grin.

“I will show you,” he said like a command. Dozens of eyes drilled into her skin as she looked to that outstretched hand. She knew she had to take it.

She swallowed and took Belenus’s cold, soft hand. He led her to the center of the circle of dancers. Everyone gave them a wide berth. Some stopped dancing to watch them. The entire Eastern Court was staring at her now. She didn’t dare seek out Hale in the crowd. She knew the exact look he would have on his face.

Belenus placed his free hand lightly on her waist. Remy was grateful for her hoop skirt in that moment and the buffer of distance it would keep from the young prince. He led her into a slow waltz. Those black eyes bored into her as if he could see every thought swirling in her head.

“I see you favor the same shade as I,” he said, his eyes skirting unabashedly across her bosom and down her plum dress. He wore a jacket the exact matching shade. “Excellent taste.”

She wanted to tell him she had looked at twenty other dresses, but that Carys had forced her to wear this one because it was a less flattering shade on her. It would have been helpful to know that it was the prince’s favorite color. Remy said nothing but inclined her head in thanks.

Belenus looked at her bare neck. “I’m surprised my brother hasn’t offered to make you his personal witch. I’m sure my father wouldn’t allow it, but I’m surprised Hale still didn’t at least try.”

Remy bit the inside of her cheek. Little did Belenus know she had offered her services to Hale only yesterday. Hale had not said that his father would forbid it. Hale didn’t seem inclined to mention her at all to the King. What would Gedwin Norwood do if the crown prince wanted to take a red witch? Surely he wouldn’t punish the heir to his own throne that severely?

Her hair flew off her shoulders as Belenus whipped her around in a twirl. As she spun, Remy saw the King was watching her too. He tracked her with a stillness that made her want to shudder. She knew she would not win his favor anytime soon, and she prayed the King would not call on her for a closer inspection. He had probably ordered his son to invite her to dance, designing this trap to draw a reaction from Hale. She was sure of it.

Remy saw Hale’s cinnamon brown hair and matching jacket in the crowd, but his back was turned to them. She was glad for it. She could not think of a single appropriate reaction from him—each would break her in a different way. Hale spoke to Talhan, who was laughing away, the picture of a merry courtier. It was good Hale was with Talhan too. His easygoing cheer offset Hale’s rigidness.

As they moved, Belenus followed Remy’s line of sight and saw that it snagged on the back of his brother’s head. He smirked.

Damn. She knew she shouldn’t have looked for him in the crowd.

“Are you fucking him?”

Remy’s eyes flew to Belenus. She stared at him as his mouth twisted, pulling up to one side. She shook her head, trying not to gape at the smug expression on his face.

“Ah, so you want to be fucking him.” He smiled.

“You have a foul mouth for a child.” Remy’s voice filled with venom, though she kept her face neutral. Too many people were watching for her to show her true disgust.

“I am not a child. I am nineteen,” he said, sneering. The same age as Remy. “And you will watch your tone when speaking to me.”

“Why did you ask me to dance, Your Highness?” Remy said in a sickly-sweet voice. Belenus scowled at her as the music swelled to its finale.

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