Page 24
Story: The High Mountain Court
Pure white-hot fury was on his face. Death was in his eyes.
Remy scrambled to her feet and ran on wobbling legs. Swords clanged behind her, but she didn’t stop to look. She raced for the forest.
As she hit the tree line, she realized she had left Hale to fight off two witch hunters by himself. She stole a quick look. The prince danced around his opponents, moving with dizzying speed. Remy wished she could stay and watch his graceful death dance.
But she plunged deeper and deeper into the forest. She needed to put as much distance between herself and those hunters in case one broke free. She willed a bit more magic into her legs, spurring her onward. But her limbs felt heavy and her lungs burned.
A scream behind her shredded her nerves, but it was not Hale. It was the sound of someone dying on Hale’s blade.
* * *
Remy fell to her knees before a stream. The trembling in her legs was too great. Reeking of vomit and blood, she heard another dying scream. Hale had killed them.
She put her shaking hands into the cold water. Trying to take a deep breath, only shuddering bursts of air came out. The shock took over her body now. Tendrils of blood flowed down the stream. She cupped a handful of water up to her bruised face. Cool liquid pulling her more into her body, she splashed her face several more times until the water ran clear.
A twig snapped behind her, and Remy spun, eyes buzzing with red magic.
Hale stood panting, his hands held out.
“It’s me,” he said.
He looked like the God of War. Blood speckled his face, the ichor smudged across his clothes. His tangled and gore-clotted hair stuck to his forehead. Like a warrior ready to cut down a dozen more men, his chest still heaved and his muscles flexed.
That menace ebbed from his eyes as he looked at Remy.
“You okay?” he asked, his eyes darting to Remy’s ear and mouth.
Remy swallowed a lump in her throat as she hung her head. She wouldn’t let herself fall apart in front of him. A strange desire to be wrapped in his arms made her hands twitch. Somehow, she knew exactly what it would feel like.
She moved to stand on shaky feet. In the blink of an eye, Hale was over her, offering his bloodied hand. Remy took it, pride be damned, as he pulled her up with ease.
She swayed like a newborn baby deer. Hale gripped her hand.
“Take your time,” he mumbled. That soft look in his eyes was so at odds with his bloodied warrior’s clothes.
Tears welled in Remy’s eyes at that gentleness. She couldn’t handle it, that he saw her and allowed her to feel the trauma. That he would not reprimand or dismiss her. He was simply there, seeing it all without judgment. Remy bit the inside of her cheek so hard she thought she might draw blood. More blood. She already knew how horrified Heather would be. She could hear the brown witch lecturing her even now.
They stood in silence for a long time as the shaking lessened in Remy’s legs. Her head ached and her lip throbbed, her body finally feeling the injuries as her heartbeat steadied. After the long days’ walk and the tremendous amount of power used to fell that pine tree, only a wisp of magic still flowed through her. It surprised her she had any left for that belt. She thought back to that vacant male face. She had killed him. She had killed someone.
Hale seemed to sense the tension pulling back into her body and spoke.
“Why am I always chasing you into the bloody forest?” Hale laughed as he stared off into the shadowed woods.
Remy searched for a quick, smart retort, but she had none. She knew what he was doing, trying to snap her back to her senses and out of the numbing shock.
He lifted a hand and pulled a leaf out of her hair with a soft smile.
“You took on four male fae and survived, little witch.” His voice was a whisper as his gray eyes bored into hers. The way he looked at Remy now . . . it made her quiver. He looked at her like she was beautiful, but, more than that, he looked at her like she was brave.
“We should go find the others.” Remy looked away. Her voice was scratchy, like she had been screaming. Maybe she had been—she didn’t know.
“Yes, we need to find the others,” Hale said, his eyes still lingering on her face. “We can’t stay in Guilford. We need to keep moving through the night in case those males had any others working with them.”
Remy shuddered.
“Talhan’s going to kill us for depriving him of a bed another night,” Remy said, trying to break the tightness in her chest.
“Let me deal with Tal.” Hale’s voice was thunder over velvet.
Remy scrambled to her feet and ran on wobbling legs. Swords clanged behind her, but she didn’t stop to look. She raced for the forest.
As she hit the tree line, she realized she had left Hale to fight off two witch hunters by himself. She stole a quick look. The prince danced around his opponents, moving with dizzying speed. Remy wished she could stay and watch his graceful death dance.
But she plunged deeper and deeper into the forest. She needed to put as much distance between herself and those hunters in case one broke free. She willed a bit more magic into her legs, spurring her onward. But her limbs felt heavy and her lungs burned.
A scream behind her shredded her nerves, but it was not Hale. It was the sound of someone dying on Hale’s blade.
* * *
Remy fell to her knees before a stream. The trembling in her legs was too great. Reeking of vomit and blood, she heard another dying scream. Hale had killed them.
She put her shaking hands into the cold water. Trying to take a deep breath, only shuddering bursts of air came out. The shock took over her body now. Tendrils of blood flowed down the stream. She cupped a handful of water up to her bruised face. Cool liquid pulling her more into her body, she splashed her face several more times until the water ran clear.
A twig snapped behind her, and Remy spun, eyes buzzing with red magic.
Hale stood panting, his hands held out.
“It’s me,” he said.
He looked like the God of War. Blood speckled his face, the ichor smudged across his clothes. His tangled and gore-clotted hair stuck to his forehead. Like a warrior ready to cut down a dozen more men, his chest still heaved and his muscles flexed.
That menace ebbed from his eyes as he looked at Remy.
“You okay?” he asked, his eyes darting to Remy’s ear and mouth.
Remy swallowed a lump in her throat as she hung her head. She wouldn’t let herself fall apart in front of him. A strange desire to be wrapped in his arms made her hands twitch. Somehow, she knew exactly what it would feel like.
She moved to stand on shaky feet. In the blink of an eye, Hale was over her, offering his bloodied hand. Remy took it, pride be damned, as he pulled her up with ease.
She swayed like a newborn baby deer. Hale gripped her hand.
“Take your time,” he mumbled. That soft look in his eyes was so at odds with his bloodied warrior’s clothes.
Tears welled in Remy’s eyes at that gentleness. She couldn’t handle it, that he saw her and allowed her to feel the trauma. That he would not reprimand or dismiss her. He was simply there, seeing it all without judgment. Remy bit the inside of her cheek so hard she thought she might draw blood. More blood. She already knew how horrified Heather would be. She could hear the brown witch lecturing her even now.
They stood in silence for a long time as the shaking lessened in Remy’s legs. Her head ached and her lip throbbed, her body finally feeling the injuries as her heartbeat steadied. After the long days’ walk and the tremendous amount of power used to fell that pine tree, only a wisp of magic still flowed through her. It surprised her she had any left for that belt. She thought back to that vacant male face. She had killed him. She had killed someone.
Hale seemed to sense the tension pulling back into her body and spoke.
“Why am I always chasing you into the bloody forest?” Hale laughed as he stared off into the shadowed woods.
Remy searched for a quick, smart retort, but she had none. She knew what he was doing, trying to snap her back to her senses and out of the numbing shock.
He lifted a hand and pulled a leaf out of her hair with a soft smile.
“You took on four male fae and survived, little witch.” His voice was a whisper as his gray eyes bored into hers. The way he looked at Remy now . . . it made her quiver. He looked at her like she was beautiful, but, more than that, he looked at her like she was brave.
“We should go find the others.” Remy looked away. Her voice was scratchy, like she had been screaming. Maybe she had been—she didn’t know.
“Yes, we need to find the others,” Hale said, his eyes still lingering on her face. “We can’t stay in Guilford. We need to keep moving through the night in case those males had any others working with them.”
Remy shuddered.
“Talhan’s going to kill us for depriving him of a bed another night,” Remy said, trying to break the tightness in her chest.
“Let me deal with Tal.” Hale’s voice was thunder over velvet.
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