Page 119

The world would not make her, she would make the world.

One soldier broke from the gathering up ahead. He was a head taller than those around him, long and lean, though filling out. Remy’s feet were moving before she could stop herself.

Fenrin.

Remy caught the brown witch before he could move into a bow and threw her arms around him. She squeezed him like a vice, willing herself not to cry. All the eyes of her people were on her, but she did not care. Let them see her hugging the witch.

“Don’t torture yourself for it, Remy. It was her choice, and she made the right one,” Fenrin said, knowing the guilt Remy felt for Heather’s death. She didn’t have to say one word for him to know from that squeeze that she loved him, appreciated him. “You know she’d always make that choice.”

Remy bit her lip so hard she was sure it would draw blood. She would not cry again in front of the people who had risked their lives to save her. She needed to show strength.

They released the hug and surveyed the gathering caravan of people and horses heading to Yexshire.

“It’s too much, Fen,” Remy said, surveying her people.

“You always were a queen, Remy, always. You just are letting other people see it now too,” he said.

“I will have need of a brown witch in Yexshire. I’m sure many of my people will need the help of a palace brown witch. Would you care to take the position?”

“Of course,” he said, eyes lighting up. Then he smirked at her. “I have many suggestions of how you can design your palace.”

“Excellent.” She smiled. They had been imagining building a home in Yexshire since they were twelve. If anyone knew what she wanted in a palace, it would be Fenrin.

The brown witch looked over her shoulder. “Your Fated is a good man, Remy, I’m happy for you.”

She loosed a long-held sigh at that. Not knowing how much she needed to hear that, she was grateful that Fenrin had released her from his feelings. She wanted Fenrin’s approval of Hale. Remy hoped Heather would have approved of him too.

“Your Majesty.” Carys coughed from her horse behind them.

Remy turned and saw, standing in the arched stone doorway of the palace, her sister. She hustled up the hillside, snow sticking to her black hair.

Rua stood stoically in front of her, her hand resting on the ruby hilt of the Immortal Blade. She looked so much like Rivitus. She had the same smattering of dark freckles across her golden-brown skin, green and brown eyes, and highlights of strawberry blonde in her wavy, dark hair. Her looks were willowy and ethereal, but her countenance was rock hard. She stood perfectly, shoulders back, chin up. At eighteen, she looked like she could conquer the world.

Remy hesitated for a moment before hugging her sister. She dropped heavy tears as she hugged Rua. She couldn’t contain them, hugging the only member of her family who lived. She never thought she would see Rua again, and here she was, beautiful and strong. Rua lifted one arm and rested it tentatively on Remy’s back, the other remaining on her sword.

When they pulled away, Rua’s face was unchanged, unaffected by that long embrace. It stung. Remy wondered what had happened in Rua’s childhood to make her this way . . . or maybe the sword had done something to her sister.

Renwick appeared, lingering in the archway, as Remy wiped her tears. She narrowed a hateful look at him, and he huffed out a laugh.

She looked back at her sister. “You do not have to stay here. You could come back home with us.”

Home. It felt so good to say.

They were going home. Remy and her people would rebuild their homeland. The future of their people was promising once more. Let the realm know what it meant to be a High Mountain fae. She would lead her people back into the light of a new age.

“I will be fine,” Rua said. There was no anger or frustration in her voice, only a stoic coldness that worried Remy more than any emotion. This was not the same girl who was shaking and screaming while Northern soldiers cut down witches beside her.

Rua looked back to Renwick with a snarl. Good. At least there was something there, then. “I will let them know the power of the High Mountains.”

Remy stared at Rua for another moment. Her little sister was fearsome. Remy wondered what her life had been, growing up with the red witches in hiding. She imagined being raised by red witches in the woods was wholly different from the way Heather raised her in taverns. Whatever her upbringing, it had molded her into the person standing here now. She quaked to think what her sister would do with that blade.

“I will be in touch through fae fires. Regularly. It won’t be long until Winter Solstice, which I hope you come home for, you . . . and Renwick,” Remy added with a drip of disgust that made her sister smile. At least they could agree to hate him, then. Maybe they could bond over that. “Please contact me whenever you can.”

Rua nodded, and that was her only response. Her sister didn’t bristle under Remy’s sad stare. This was not the reunion Remy had hoped for.

She felt someone standing beside her. A worn leather pack thudded to the ground. She looked over and saw Bri.

“I’ve had enough of the East,” Bri said, looking at Remy. “With your permission, Your Majesty, I’d like to stay behind and offer my protection to Princess Ruadora.”