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“I did not know he was alive,” Remy said. Hale wrapped an arm around her shoulder as a sudden wave of grief flooded into her, warring with her disbelief. Raffiel was gone. Heather was gone. A white-hot poker stabbed at her chest. They were gone

“I did not know he lived either. Not for certain.” Hale’s eyes narrowed at Bern. Hale had been informed by the silver-haired fae about the red witches camping in the mountains, and about the location of the Shil-de ring now on his finger . . . but Hale was never told about Raffiel.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you everything, friend,” Bern said to Hale. “I couldn’t let the son of the Eastern King know of what we were up to, just in case.” In case Gedwin Norwood was not a true ally to the High Mountain Court as he had shown himself to be.

Bern looked back to Remy. “You did not hear the rumors?”

He faked his usual slyness, but it rang more of sorrow. He had dark circles under his eyes. His face looked weathered, and his hair was disheveled.

“I trust you were the one spreading those rumors,” Remy said, her eyes welling at the silver-haired courtier. “So Raffiel was the employer you were playing for at that card game in Ruttmore?”

“We have been gathering forces for some time in the mountains between Yexshire and the Western Court. Baba Morganna told us we’d find a red witch in Harbruck she called Little Sparrow.” Bern furrowed his brow. “She did not say it was you. We knew Hale was looking for a red witch, so we tipped him off. But when I went to that card game and saw it was you . . . our plans changed.”

Guilt racked her. Their plans changed for her, and now Raffiel was dead. Her capture had forced them to strike before they were ready. Her older brother came to her rescue only to be killed. Remy would never be ready to face that fact. She was responsible for her brother’s death.

“You knew who I was as well?” Remy tried to hide her broken heart as she frowned at her wrist. “Was it these bloody freckles again?”

Bern cocked an eyebrow at her. “You mean, I shouldn’t have been able to guess just by looking at you?” Bern raised his eyebrows at Remy. “Even in your witch form, the resemblance to your brother is uncanny. If only we had known you were alive, we would have come to find you sooner.” His forced smile faded as he looked in her eyes, getting lost in them for a moment. When he spoke, it was a whisper. “You both have those Dammacus eyes . . . as does your sister.”

“Rua,” Remy breathed, remembering her sister wielding the Immortal Blade. “Is she all right?”

“She is fine,” Bern said, albeit a little clipped. “We will send word to her that you are awake.”

“Did you know she was alive?” Remy asked.

“Yes, for several years.” Bern nodded. “A red witch hiding in the High Mountains told me Baba Morganna lived. She told me that Rua was with them, safe in the mountains across from us. We went to them as soon as we heard. We tried to visit the red witch camps as much as we could, but we had our hands full gathering the survivors of the High Mountain Court.”

Remy’s hands trembled, and Hale threaded his fingers through hers. Her sister grew up with the coven of their court, in the forests of their own homeland. On the other side of the mountains, Rua had lived this whole time.

“How many are left?” Remy asked.

“Four hundred or so,” Bern answered. “The numbers are always changing. Many aren’t originally Yexshiri but rather asylum seekers from other courts. We brought the strongest and best fighters with us when we came here.”

Four hundred.

It was more than she had hoped to dream, and yet it was devastatingly low compared to the tens of thousands who had once called Yexshire home.

“And the red witches?” Remy asked, remembering all the ones the Northern King had killed before he brought the remaining five before his court.

“We don’t know.” Bern frowned to the floor. “Baba Morganna and the other red witch left straight after the battle to head back to Yexshire. She said a few dozen witches had fled into the woods when they were captured. More might come out of hiding, those who have scattered to every corner of the realm, now that it is safe to do so.”

Remy swallowed. The numbers were disheartening, but there was a spark of hope, a spark she hoped they could coax into a flame.

“The soldiers and I are leaving tonight. We are setting up camp in Yexshire to oversee the rebuilding of the palace and the city. At least, that was Raffiel’s plan, but you are the ruler of the High Mountain Court, Your Majesty, should you wish to order the soldiers somewhere else.”

“We stick to Raffiel’s plan for now.” Remy pursed her lips. Bern had called her “Your Majesty.” For a fleeting moment, Remy thought she would not have to take the throne. When Raffiel died, that freedom ripped away from her again.

Bern looked to Hale. “I think you should go east to establish your presence in the court there.”

“I will not claim the East,” Hale said. “It was never mine to claim, nor do I want it now.” Bern went to speak, but Hale continued. “I also acknowledge we cannot leave Augustus and the fallen Eastern King’s advisors to rule instead. We can ride to the East and arrange an intermediary governance while we plan for a permanent sovereign. I can think of an excellent person to help oversee the selection.” Hale smiled.

Bern bobbed his chin. “I can offer you fifty of our soldiers to ride with you, but we will need the rest for the rebuilding of Yexshire.”

“I will summon my troops in Falhampton as well,” Hale said. “Augustus would be foolish to try to fight us.”

“And what of the Northern Court?” Remy asked.

“Renwick will rule the Northern Court,” Bern said.