The High Mountain Court (The Five Crowns of Okrith Book 1)

by AK Mulford

  “What was our plan?” Remy toed a fallen red leaf. “In this dream, did we just hope that the Northern King would fall and Yexshire would suddenly rise again, and we would stumble across a bounty of wealth and . . .”

  “Hey—” Fenrin cut in. “This isn’t part of the game.”

  “What was the plan, Fen?” Remy persisted. This daydream didn’t seem to fit her anymore. “Was I meant to just hide forever or until the world fixed itself without me?”

  Fenrin jutted his jaw to the side, considering. They didn’t talk like this. They only worked their tavern jobs and planned their dream lives. It was different now that they had their lot thrown in with the fae. It felt like they were actually doing something about the state of the world.

  “I don’t know, Remy,” he said. “I just know you are too important to go getting your head cut off trying to fix the world.”

  It was the same advice as Heather’s. They both wanted Remy to stay hidden and insignificant. She was apparently so important that she had to make herself unimportant. She was sick of waiting for the world to be set right. Even if the quest for the talismans led to nothing, Remy felt the burning need to finally do something. The High Mountain Court deserved its vengeance.

  Chapter Four

  “Tell us a story of the red witches,” Briata called to Remy from across the campfire.

  They had stopped for the night ten minutes west of the trail, in case any other travelers happened to pass while they were sleeping. The night was crisp and whorls of icy breath appeared every time they spoke.

  “I don’t have any good stories.” Remy looked at the starry night sky peeking through the trees. “I have lived with brown witches most of my life.”

  “Tell us the one about Baba Morganna pulling down the mountain,” Bri said.

  “Were you there? Did you see it?” Talhan crouched before a pot on the fire, stirring its contents. The Twin Eagles had caught a rabbit and two squirrels to add to the pot within a minute of their arrival at the camp. Fenrin had found greens and mushrooms. Remy’s stomach rumbled at the aroma from the burbling pot. The three witches had all gaped when Talhan had produced a thick iron pot from his pack. No wonder he had legs as thick as tree trunks.

  “She was six during the Siege of Yexshire. She can’t remember anything,” Heather said, wrapping her threadbare blanket more tightly around her shoulders. Remy jealously eyed the fae across the fire with their thick fur blankets.

  Heather reached for Remy’s hair, readying to braid it for the night. Cheeks flushing, Remy pulled away and gave her guardian a look. She didn’t need her hair braided like she was a child anymore. Especially not in front of a bunch of fae warriors.

  “Tell it to us anyway,” Bri exclaimed from her bedroll. “These idiots can barely tell one good story between them.”

  Talhan and Carys laughed. Even Hale’s cheek twitched into a faint smile.

  “Fine. I can’t promise it will be any good,” Remy said, chucking the stick she had been fiddling with into the flames. “There once was a red witch named Morganna Stormfrost. She lived in the Temple of Yexshire with the rest of her coven. The night was like any other winter’s night. The Castle of Yexshire sat across the valley between the mountains brimming with people as Hennen Vostemur, the Northern King, and his court visited their friends in the High Mountains.”

  Remy didn’t look at anyone as she spoke, her eyes lost in the dancing flames of the campfire, thinking of the same flames that razed Yexshire.

  “Nothing seemed amiss,” she continued, “but Morganna had her first-ever gift of Sight that night. She saw the palace in flames before the first blade swung. With only minutes before the carnage broke out, she rushed the red witches to the road east, but Northern soldiers blocked the passage. Sure enough, they blockaded each of the four roads out of Yexshire. Morganna knew they had to flee over the saddle of the mountains if they were to escape. They climbed the mountainside, a near-vertical slope, but the Northern soldiers were right behind them, shooting arrows. One of them struck Morganna, right through the throat.”

  Carys gasped as Remy poked a finger into her neck.

  “She was dying right there, trapped against the mountainside. But Baba Theodora, the High Priestess of the red witches at the time, was there. She invoked the midon brik, the most powerful magic any witch can cast, and she swapped her life with Morganna’s. Baba Theodora knew Morganna was her successor. They say it was seeing her Baba’s death that gave Morganna her own incredible power. She began catching arrows in the sky and turning them on their shooters. Morganna got the witches up and over the pass and then waited there for the Northern soldiers to reach her.”

  Remy saw Bri grinning across the licking flames.

  “When the soldiers were all into the saddle, Morganna cleaved the mountain above them and crushed the Northern legion under the rocks of her homeland. She brought down a mountain to save her people and earned the title Baba, new High Priestess of the red witches.”

  A long silence stretched out between them until Hale spoke, looking at the fire.

  “So the red witches didn’t run to the aid of the High Mountain Court?” he said.

  Remy glared at the Eastern Prince. How dare he insinuate that the red witches had not done enough to save the fae. It was all that mattered to the fae, it seemed: how much they would give of their lives.

  “Many did—” Remy sneered. “And they all died.”

  Hale tilted his head, rubbing the stubble down his jaw. “How did you escape?”

  “With others. I can’t remember.”

  “You fled with your parents?” Hale asked as a log crackled and sparks danced up toward the starry sky.

  Talhan pinched his nose now, Carys cringed, and Briata rolled her eyes.

  “No. They’re dead.” Remy looked at Hale, daring him to say another word.

  “You say you can’t remember. How do you know? Have you tried to look for them?” Hale prodded, his sharp eyes watching Remy from across the flickering flames.

  “Back off,” Carys said in a quiet growl.

  “I was just curious.” Hale shrugged.

  “Of course you were, because our lives mean nothing to you, we just exist for your entertainment. Witches are just curiosities to the fae.” Remy’s tether to her patience had snapped.

  “That’s not what I said.” Hale narrowed his eyes at her. He had the audacity to act offended after all he had insinuated.

  “Is our pain exciting to you, prince?” Remy jibed. Heather leaned her shoulder into Remy’s, a silent request to cool down, but she could not. This attitude of fae superiority was everything that was wrong in the world. The High Mountain fae treated the red witches as their equals and the other fae didn’t like that . . . especially Hennen Vostemur.

  “You’re twisting my words, witch,” Hale gritted out through a clenched jaw.

  “You haven’t ever had a single struggle, have you? You need to employ others to share theirs with you.” Remy knew little about hand-to-hand combat, but she knew how to crush her enemies with her words.

  “You’re being ridiculous.” Hale threw her words straight back.

  “You really are a spoiled, rich bastard,” Remy snarled. Hale’s eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting up for a split second before he pulled his face back into a scowl.

  There. She struck a bullseye.

  “Better a bastard than a hiding coward,” Hale said. The unexpected blow hit her straight in the gut. That’s what she was: a hiding coward. Worse, they all could see it.

  Remy eyed her glowing red hands. She had lost control again. She stood up and turned to the forest, throwing an excuse over her shoulder.

  “Nice, Hale.” She heard Briata’s snarl as she stormed away.

  Remy heard Fenrin standing up, and she grumbled without breaking her stride, “Don’t follow me, Fen.”

  Fenrin listened this time.

  It was a short walk to the stream. The glow of Remy’s hands was even clearer as she moved awa
y from the fire. The soft red light let her see the forest floor beneath her, and she was careful to avoid the rocks poking above the fallen leaves. The dirt blackened her feet, but at least the pain of the day’s walk had subsided.

  Remy neared the narrow stream where they had refilled their skins and gathered water for their stew. She stood, looking at the slow, rambling water and took a deep breath. Hiding coward, Hale had called her. The shame of those words hit her anew. Her hands flared. She was sure if she had a mirror she would see her eyes glowing too. She sensed it now without looking, feeling the trembling buzz behind her eyes.

  Remy took another slow, steadying breath. The buzzing faded. Darkness pulled in as her red magic dulled.

  She heard soft footsteps behind her and knew without turning it was Carys. Remy had walked enough with these fae warriors to know their unique gaits. Talhan walked like a rumbling bear. Briata had a heavy gait, too, but less harsh. Hale walked with a confident, quiet stride like a mountain lion. Carys was the lightest on her feet, elegant and balletic.

  The female fae stopped beside Remy, unwinding her long blonde braid and combing her fingers through it. They watched the stream in silence for a while. Remy decided to braid her long curls for sleep after all as Carys brushed out her own braid beside her. Remy’s hands were clumsy. Heather had made it look easy. She couldn’t believe she let the brown witch do it for her for so long.

  Carys swiped a few more fingers through her hair, shaking it out so it landed right above her hips.

  “I have never seen anyone get under his skin like you do,” Carys said into the darkness. “It’s impressive.”

  “Are you with him?” Remy bit out. She pinched her lips together after the words flew out of her mouth.

  “I was wondering when you were going to ask me that.” Carys even made her chuckle sound delicate.

  Remy didn’t respond, but simply kept braiding and waited for Carys to answer her question.

  “No, I am not with him, nor do I want to be,” the fae said.

  “Why not? He’s . . .” Remy didn’t know how to finish that thought. He was the most attractive person she had ever seen. Just looking at him made her feel unsteady.

  “Handsome?” Carys laughed. “I mean, I have eyes, of course he is, and he’s a good person too . . . ,” Remy tutted, but Carys persisted. “He is. Truly. He’s just a bit rough around the edges.”

  “So why don’t you want to be with him?” Remy had seen them together. The two of them always broke off into a duo. Hale listened to Carys more than anyone else.

  Carys opened her mouth to say something twice before her shoulders drooped.

  “There was someone . . .”

  Remy bobbed her head. It was all she needed to say. Remy had heard that story so many times. It was the story of broken hearts being left in shredded pieces.

  “Hale was once Fated too,” Carys added. Remy’s eyes darted to the female’s shadowed figure.

  Fated love was another fae magic, the rarest magic of all. Some fae souls intertwined long before their lives even began. Their Fated magic was so strong that the bond was sometimes detectable even while they were still in the womb. Many of the richest fae families paid blue witch oracles to predict their children’s Fated. Others were superstitious and believed it was bad luck to know, but Fated love was undeniable.

  Remy’s thoughts snagged on the words Carys spoke.

  “Was?”

  “She died before they ever met,” Carys said. “His Fated was a princess of the High Mountain fae. She died in the Siege of Yexshire.”

  The darkness pulled in tighter. Remy’s chest constricted.

  “Some say it is a fate worse than death,” Carys continued. “To live without that Fated bond can break people. Even worse, Hale knows he will never find it.” Remy swallowed the hard lump in her throat. “I won’t tell you to be gentle to him. He is a smug asshole sometimes.” Carys laughed. “But he has been through more than he shows.”

  Remy gnawed her lip. An owl hooted through the forest, crickets quieting in response.

  Carys turned back toward the firelight, the smell of the stew making Remy’s stomach rumble. She heard the faint laughter of the Twin Eagles and Fenrin. The Eagles seemed to have taken to teasing the young witch, and he delighted in being included. It was clear Fenrin looked up to them.

  “You coming?” Carys asked, heading back to the campsite without waiting for Remy’s response.

  Remy stared into the darkness, praying to all the Gods to tolerate the insufferable prince one more night.

  It was another hard day of traveling before they set up camp. Remy dumped the apron next to the growing fire. Foraged food spilled onto the ground. Her feet ached after another tedious walk.

  Carys added kindling to the flames while Talhan unpacked his pans. Heather unwrapped the linen around her delicate bottles, inspecting each one for cracks or loosened corks. Hale was nowhere to be seen.

  But it was Briata that Remy wanted to speak with. The female warrior sat on her pack, sharpening a wicked-looking dagger on a stone.

  “Do you have a knife I could borrow?” Remy asked her.

  The fae’s slender ears perked up.

  “Absolutely.” She grinned at Remy and produced a smaller blade from her belt.

  “Wait, why do you need a knife?” Carys called over to them. She gave Briata a look as the warrior offered Remy her weapon.

  “I want to go hunting for something to eat.” Remy shrugged.

  “Is what we provide not enough?” Carys asked as she snapped another stick in half.

  “No, it’s plenty, I just want to add something.” Remy shifted, feeling useless even for asking.

  “You don’t need a knife, Remy.” Heather chastised her. Remy hated that tone. Her guardian was so demeaning to her sometimes. She made sure that Remy remained as useless as she felt.

  “I don’t think you’ll have much luck with a knife,” Briata said, glancing between Heather and Remy. She flipped the blade over in her hand to pass Remy the hilt. “But it’ll be fun to see you try.”

  “I hunt better alone,” Remy said, taking the weapon. She bobbed her head in thanks.

  “You’re terrible at making friends, Bri.” Talhan chuckled to his twin.

  Remy looked between them. Was this them being nice? She turned away from their campsite and toward the woods.

  “Do you want me to come?” Fenrin called to her. He was crouched, unpacking the apron of foraged food. Remy shook her head. She missed the time she used to have to venture out on her own, having only her thoughts and silence as companions. Being constantly under the watchful eye of the fae was grating on her nerves.

  Remy stepped back into the forest. Her bare feet were even more sore after another day of hiking. She wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to use those bloody boots before they chewed up her feet, but barefoot in the forest was where Remy felt the best. It was the witch blood in her, she presumed. She could move across the stones and scatter leaves without making a sound. She felt lithe and predatory when she was alone, like her magic rose to the surface of her skin when no one was watching.

  The cool air pooled around her, her breathing slowed, and an invisible weight lifted off her shoulders as she sighed.

  She heard far-off leaves scuffling and birds’ soft tut-tutting. It sounded like some kind of fowl. She scanned the forest, her eyes resting on a grouping of pheasant digging through the leaf litter far ahead. Her eyes widened. She would be a hero if she brought one of those back to camp.

  She tiptoed toward them before a voice halted her.

  “Now this I would like to see.”

  Remy looked over her shoulder to see Hale, arms crossed, leaning against a tree. His pewter eyes twinkled as he saw the scowl on her face. Remy might have moved quietly through the forest, but Hale was as silent as death to sneak up on her like that.

  “You really think you can catch a pheasant with a knife?” Hale’s brows rose into his hairline as he grin
ned at her.

  “I do.” Remy sneered. Great, now she would have to prove him wrong.

  “I will take that bet.” Hale’s cheeks dimpled.

  “Good,” Remy spat. “If I win, you will buy me a new bow and arrows in the next town we stop in.”

  Hale’s grin widened.

  “Agreed,” he said, his voice a deep rumble, “and when I win, you have to give me a compliment.”

  “You’re so deprived of friendly words that you have to place bets for them?” Remy laughed.

  “Not from everyone, just from you.” Hale’s smoky gaze brightened. “I know how much you’d hate it.”

  It was the worst punishment he could think of for her, saying one agreeable thing to him.

  “Fine.” Remy squinted at him. “But no scaring them off.”

  Hale lifted and dropped his shoulders, his only form of acknowledgment.

  Remy eyed the pheasants still digging in the forest floor. She crept from rock to rock, stealthily edging closer. She couldn’t hear Hale behind her, but she sensed the prince was there.

  If she had a bow, she would be within striking distance. She knew there was no point throwing the knife. It was sure to miss. She sensed Hale’s smugness. But the prince had forgotten one very important thing: she had red witch magic.

  Remy felt the rising buzz of magic flow out to her hands. Her splayed fingers glowed red, as she cast her thread of magic, looping it around the three fat pheasants.

  The rest of the flock fled over the hillside, but her magic snared the three birds, now suspended in the air. Remy made quick work with her knife, slicing their necks. She held her catch by their feet so that the blood wouldn’t drip on her. She smiled at the prince.

  “Well, that was unexpected,” Hale huffed. “Let it serve me right for underestimating you, witch.”

  “I’m looking forward to my new bow, Your Highness.”