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Remy looked out to the river and cleared her throat. “Yes, hiding my red witch powers felt like my only purpose in life.”

She could no longer make out the shores of the Southern banks of the river. The enchanted boat neared the other side already. They moved with incredible speed.

“I have arranged for you to go with Carys when we enter the city. You will stay with her until it is time to depart for the Rotted Peak.” Hale’s eyes dropped to his hands. Remy turned to him, an unasked question on her face. “I’m sorry you will have to hide your magic once more.”

“Why?” she said. “Shouldn’t I be coming with you? They know you have found a red witch and possess the ring, I assume?”

“I don’t want you or that ring getting anywhere near my father,” Hale ground out, that muscle in his jaw popping out again. “The knowledge of who you are and where that ring is gives him a power I am unwilling to put in his hands.”

“You think he will take it?” Remy wondered. “But wasn’t it his idea to find the High Prince and reunite him with the lost talismans?”

“It was,” Hale said, his attention pulled back to Remy’s face, “and yet, I still do not trust him or any of his advisors.”

“Why not?” Remy regretted asking. Hale’s body language said everything. The prince didn’t trust his father for many reasons. There was a history there she did not know.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Remy added, “I trust in your judgment.”

Hale held her eyes again, another long look. She saw her reflection in them. It was like a mirror to her own soul, her own fear, her own wounds. There was something there, some magic that existed only between them.

“Won’t your father know who I am if I go with Carys?” Remy asked.

“Carys joined our ranks from the Southern Court a year back during one of the skirmishes on the border with the North,” Hale said. “My father knows Bri and Talhan, but not her. Still, it won’t be long until they identify who this red witch is that we brought with us, but hopefully by then we will be on the move into the mountains again.”

“Will you be all right?” Remy asked. Her question seemed to surprise Hale, though he hid it well.

“I’m used to walking into the lion’s den.” Hale faked a laugh, but Remy knew well enough by now that the sound wasn’t genuine. “But I’m glad that you won’t be dragged into that place too.”

“I don’t know . . .” Remy bit her lip. “I’m pretty good at playing the doting red witch.”

“That you are.” Hale laughed again, his smile broadening into something more real. He toyed with the red string still around his wrist, as though contemplating the moments that they had shared in the South. “But I don’t want to put on an act like in Ruttmore.”

“Oh.” Remy tried to hide her disappointment. He didn’t want a repeat of what happened in Ruttmore.

“My father is a cunning man—he sees more than most. He’d take one look at me with you and he’d know,” Hale said.

“Know what?” Remy breathed.

“That I’m not acting.”

Remy froze at his admission. He said it so nonchalantly, and yet she knew what a tremendous thing it was to say those words out loud. Hale pushed off the railing and walked away, leaving her with that confession. He wanted her to stay away from the King because he cared about her and didn’t want the King to hurt her to get to him. She opened and shut her mouth. What could she say to him? That she returned those feelings? Remy did not know what that would mean for them.

The distant shouts from land sounded. They had made it to the Eastern Court.