Page 98 of The High Mountain Court

Chapter Twenty-Five

They traveled through the darkened forest and into the sunlight on the other side toward the Temple of Yexshire. Remy’s heart was in her throat with anticipation to see Ruadora again. Rua had been four the last time Remy had seen her. Her little sister, less than two years younger, was a faint blur in her mind. She did not know what she would look like all grown up. She’d be eighteen in a few weeks, a grown woman.

The Temple of Yexshire loomed quietly above them as they tied up the horses. A large clearing circled around the temple, overgrown with tall grasses.

Remy craned her neck up to look at the towering white temple.

“Look to the tree line,” Hale said. “There must be some clue of which direction their camp is from here.”

Remy nodded. “I’ll take the far side.”

She waded into the chest-high grasses, stumbling a few times over the uneven ground. The meadow was so thick she couldn’t see below her thighs. She tried to remember what had once filled this clearing. There had been a low wood fence circling the temple, now either decayed into ruin or lost below the line of golden grass.

Beyond the fence had been a herd of grazing goats. They were gone too. She wondered if one of the many pillagers or witch hunters after the Siege of Yexshire had eaten them.

There had been a giant spiraling herb garden bisecting the gravel path to the temple’s front steps. Remy remembered the smells of mint and sage wafting in the air as she walked toward the temple.

She couldn’t see any evidence of it. If she dug, maybe she would find it there still. Or maybe looters had taken the holy herbs along with everything else. The years had not been kind. At least a few big storms had blown through, knocking trees into the clearing.

Remy stood directly in front of the temple’s open archway. She had climbed over a fallen trunk when she heard a noise. It sounded like a scuffle inside the temple. She wondered if a fox or a bear had found its way inside. The morning frosts, promising winter’s impending hand, would have compelled them into the temple’s shelter.

Remy looked at the temple and gasped again. She was certain it wasn’t a phantom now. A hooded red figure stood in one of the tall windows, looking down on her.

The red witches were here. Remy bolted toward the archway.

The witches must have taken their rightful place in the Temple of Yexshire. Rua would be inside this tower. She was only a few steps from her sister.

Remy scrambled up the disintegrating steps. She had just crossed the threshold when Hale’s scream rent the air.

“It’s a trap!” he shouted. “Run!”

Remy spun from the threshold of the temple to find Hale, and what she saw . . .

A dozen Northern soldiers had emerged from the tall grass. Two were restraining Hale from where he stood at the forest’s edge. How had she missed them? How had she not scented them? Gods, one stood directly in the path in front of her. She must have stepped right over him. Not a fallen tree at all.

“Run!” Hale shouted again as Remy froze in panic. A hard punch to the face cut off Hale’s voice.

Remy threw out her magic on instinct, and the two soldiers holding Hale went flying. She swept out an arc of red magic and flattened the entire field of soldiers before her. Hale was already running toward her. They could run through the temple, out the other side, and into the forest, losing the Northern soldiers before they woke up.

Hale stumbled as he ran but kept himself upright. It wasn’t until he was at the base of the steps that his determined stare changed to one of horror. Remy didn’t have time to turn as a large arm grabbed her around the middle, hauling her into the darkness of the temple. She scrambled to break free, throwing out her magic in her panic, but it did not land a blow.

An acidic cloth clamped over her nose and mouth. The powerful stench burned her throat. Her limbs felt tingly, her vision spotted with black, as Hale’s bellows circled her.

Remy threw out her leg, connecting with the guard’s knee, before the dizzying darkness could claim her. He dropped Remy enough so she could grab her dagger on her hip. She didn’t stop to think. There was no pausing anymore. As Bri had promised, her instincts took over and in one smooth motion she spun, stabbing directly into the soldier’s neck. She didn’t wait to see him fall. She yanked back her blade, his blood spraying into the air as she ran.

Her feet remembered the layout of the temple as she instinctively raced up the winding stone steps to her left, taking them two at a time. Her muscles reminding her she was fae, she pushed her legs harder. Remy heard the heartbeat of the soldier up ahead, waiting to strike. Without revealing herself, she stabbed his foot with her dagger. He screamed as Remy ran up the steps, kicking him down into the oncoming soldiers behind her. The falling soldier was not as much of an obstacle for the rest as she had hoped. She ran up the steps faster, but the Northern soldiers were catching up too fast.

They were fae too . . . but . . . they did not have witch magic.

Remy ducked under a white stone archway, slamming out her red magic, crumbling the archway behind her and blocking the staircase upward. She reached the fourth-floor landing and heaved in a breath.

She looked out the keyhole window and saw Hale. He held a sword in each hand, brutal and focused. Four soldiers were coming at him; another six lay dead all around him. He moved like an avenging god. He pushed some out and pulled others in, pacing their charges, controlling them without them knowing. He cut down every soldier who stepped into reach of his blade instantly. Another dozen soldiers stood in the woods, hesitating to charge.

Gods, how many of them did they bring?

Remy’s eyes caught on the red cloak in the woods. It wasn’t a red witch wearing it at all. Even at this height her fae eyes could see the face of the woman clearly, those glowing blue hands and painted blue lips. They had brought a blue witch with them.

Remy cursed.

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