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“I can handle this,” Hale whispered back.

Remy had to school her face from registering that she heard.

“Well, handle it better, then,” Carys hissed.

Remy liked this warrior. She liked the Twin Eagles too. They had charisma like all fae but were strangely humorous and informal too. Were it not for the fact they were fae, and that they served the Bastard Prince, Remy might actually like getting to know them.

“She asks a fair question,” Carys said louder, clearly intending for the witches to hear. “Why should she help us?”

“Besides seeing her prince, the one she swore to serve, returned to his rightful throne?” Hale’s lips pulled up into a smug smile as he looked at Remy. She squinted at him. The red witches pledged their fealty to the High Mountain Court, but it was a low blow to ask this much of her. Was her fealty enough to go hunting for two lost talismans?

The Eastern Prince seemed to read her reaction. “We can safely return you to them. I suspect it will be the safest the three of you have been in thirteen years.”

It was Heather who considered him then. She may have been affectionate, but she was still a witch, not a human, and that made her shrewd. Heather and Fenrin would not be able to get Remy to the red witches alone. Remy had narrowly missed being captured or killed several times and that was in small country towns. If they were to travel out into the Courts, she needed more protection than two brown witches. Remy knew she needed to get to Baba Morganna the instant the High Priestess’ name was spoken.

Heather gave a thoughtful nod. She was the leader of their little unit, and so it was her decision. Either she seemed to believe that the prince offered them protection in earnest, or she didn’t trust the prince but still felt allying with him was worth the risk. Regardless, Remy knew Heather would do anything to ensure her safety.

Remy felt like she had been sleeping for thirteen years, only to be awoken into a panicked run. All her patience flew from her body. She was desperate to get back to the red witches.

She rubbed her hand down her sore face. What they were agreeing to was a far departure from hiding in taverns. It was a colossal risk, and it could all be a lie. She wondered if Heather wanted to pawn her off on someone else. No, that wasn’t like the brown witch. Still, Remy had been nothing but a liability to them all these years. This deal could make their lives better.

Biting her lip, Remy looked between Heather and Hale. The prince was still looking at her, waiting for her reply.

Remy made him wait, holding his stare, until she spoke.

“So you want us to help you find the Shil-de ring and the amulet of Aelusien and help you find a long-missing prince? That is a big ask of us.”

“I am only asking you,” Hale said, his smoky eyes piercing her. “If your companions wish to come, then I only ask that they do not slow us down, though I think it would be far better to send them back to that tavern.”

“No,” Heather said at the same time as Fenrin said, “Absolutely not.”

“We stay with Remy.” Heather gave Remy a warning look that told the red witch not to disagree with her guardian. The prince was right—it would be safer for the brown witches to stay behind. The brown witches only had healing magic, not the power to animate objects like the red witches. But Remy owed Heather her life. The brown witch had saved her more times than she could count, and so she could not deny Heather anything.

Remy assessed the Eastern Prince one more time. The things he spoke of were foolish at best and catastrophic at worst. She refused to trust him, but a tentative alliance with them seemed like a good move. She could help him until he revealed where the red witches gathered, and then she would flee before getting roped into a harebrained chase after a ghost prince.

It felt like their lives were frozen all these many years, and suddenly the name of Baba Morganna had thrown them back in the fires.

Decision made.

Remy watched as the firelight flickered over the prince’s sharp features. “The brown witches are coming with us, and you will leave them be.”

“Agreed.” Hale smiled, knowing he had convinced her.

“Well then, prince, we have a deal,” Remy said, sealing her fate.

* * *

The forests of the Western Court were endless. The terrain was rough and undulating, with large slabs of granite rock protruding through the soil. Aspens, firs, and maples dominated the forest’s canopy. Light rays speared through the crowns of the trees, allowing for lush underbrush to spring forth from the crunchy layer of leaves on the forest floor.

The Autumnal Equinox grew closer. Some trees still flourished in shades of summer green, while others had already yielded their greenery to the chilly nights. Red, golden, and orange leaves danced to the forest floor, floating like feathers.

“Look—onion weed!” Fenrin said with delight, popping up from behind a yellowing shrub. He held up a handful of green shoots. “You can eat the leaves and the stalks, great for bulking out stews, and . . . you don’t care.”

“No, I care, I . . .” Remy began as she took the pungent green stalks and put them in the front pouch of the apron she’d borrowed from Heather. She smeared the onion stench off her hand and down her crumpled maroon tunic.

“Remy, you don’t care about onion weed, it’s okay.” Fenrin laughed.

“You’re right, I really don’t care.” Remy grinned at him.