The High Mountain Court by A.K. Mulford
Chapter Ten
White flagstones baked below their feet, the air warm and humid. It felt as hot as the peak of the Western summer, even though Remy knew the Autumnal Equinox was mere days away. She was grateful for the billowy light dress that Bri had picked for her.
The rest of the fae wore similar light fabric trousers and short-sleeved tunics. But they remained covered in leather belts and backstraps, armed to the teeth with weapons. They looked less rough in Saxbridge; even as menacing warriors they looked like refined fae out on the town. The Twin Eagles and Carys all wore straight-legged, moon-gray trousers. The Eagles favored tunics the shade of goldenrod that made their eyes seem to glow, while Carys picked violet, the color of the Eastern Court.
Everywhere around them, fae walked informally through the shopping precinct, wearing every color of the rainbow. The brilliant colors matched the tropical flowers bursting from planters placed around large, white marble columns. In the Western Court everyone wore muted earth tones. It was a celebration for the eyes to see so many colors and fabrics. The shopping fae around them slowed or paused as Hale’s crew walked past. They were sure to be the talk of the town soon. Gossip would fly about the Bastard Prince being in Saxbridge.
Hale looked ever the swaggering prince in his lightweight pewter tunic. Covered in intricate embroidery of silver, gold, and light blue, it matched his fitted trousers, the same duck-egg blue as Remy’s dress. Bri had dressed Remy to match the prince she was pretending to serve.
Pointedly looking from her dress, Remy gave Bri a sideways glance and Bri shrugged, “It’s the fashionable color here—what can I do?”
“Likely story,” Remy jeered. Hale’s golden ring clinked against the stone tag of the witch’s collar with her every step. “I see you and Talhan and Carys all found different colors.”
“They didn’t have any in your size,” Bri shot back with a grin. The Eagle knew what she was doing.
They continued along the grand outdoor mall. Domed white and tiled roofs peeked up beyond its high walls. In the farthest distance was a giant, golden geodesic dome, sitting like a crown in the skyline. A forest-green pennant waved in the wind from its peak. Emblazoned on it in gold was the flowering tree of the Southern Court crest. That must be the castle of Saxbridge.
Remy felt another crowd of fae eyes upon her. The scrutiny in them was relentless as they looked her up and down. Snickering, they noted her rounded ears and her witch’s collar. Remy ground her teeth together. She bowed her head, shoulders deflating a bit into the stance she had assumed for most of her life.
Carys’s light touch on her elbow pulled her out of her spiraling thoughts.
“Chin up,” Carys said through smiling lips.
Remy straightened and looked to the female fae. Her white-blonde hair was not in its traditional braid but unbound, flowing down her back. She looked elegant and showy, like a princess. She would look perfect draped on Hale’s arm. Remy’s gut tightened. She needed to stop thinking that way. Carys said that they were not together. She needed to let go of this story she was telling herself about them. Carys had only ever been kind to her. But even now, when she saw Carys’s beauty and thought about her and Hale sharing a bed in the past . . . it made her want to punch her fist through one of these marble columns.
They neared a pavilion crowded with seating areas of white tables and chairs. Remy’s stomach rumbled as the warm aromas of coffee, ginger, turmeric, and cloves wafted to her. She had heard the food in the Southern Court surpassed anything else in the realm.
As they neared the seating area, an opening at the very edge came into view. A ring of empty tables surrounded a person sitting by the balcony. The figure’s shoulders hunched over a book. Beyond that lone person lay beautiful, manicured gardens. A long, rectangular reflection pool bisected the lush foliage. A thin white gravel promenade wrapped around its crystal-clear water. Small groups of fae sashayed around it, taking in the gardens.
“Neelo!” Hale called.
The person sitting in the untouched corner of the café lifted their head.
“Thank you for agreeing to lunch.” Hale reached out and shook their hand as they begrudgingly put a bookmark into their tome and laid it on the table in front of them.
As Remy neared, she took in the sight of the withdrawn bookworm. They were nothing like Remy had imagined they would be.
The Heir of Saxbridge had strong cheekbones, thick lashes, and a rounded jaw. As most natives to the Southern Court, they had dark red-brown skin. Their slender fae ears poked out through their thick, straight black hair, which was tied in a knot at the nape of their neck.
This was the face of Neelo Emberspear, Heir to the Southern Court. They sat small and stooped, despite their muscled frame and hefty weight. Their unusual aesthetic was an androgynous mixture of fae beauty and strength.
Hooded brown eyes watched Remy approach as the rest of the fae took their seats around the table.
“Neelo, this is my new red witch, Remy,” Hale said, waving a hand at her.
Neelo gave Remy a prompt, grim look and said, “Pleasure” before looking back out over the gardens.
They wore an oversized, long-sleeved, black jacket, the black a stark contrast to the light colors worn by everyone around them. A thick, golden rope, tied in an intricate knot, held the jacket together. The rope belt was purely decorative, a sign of the Southern Court’s wealth. Neelo’s charcoal gray pants were simple and narrow, showing off strong, muscular legs. It was far too much clothing for the Southern Court’s muggy climate, but not a single spot of sweat dripped down Neelo’s face. They must dress like this all of the time if they were so acclimated to the hot weather.
Remy sat in a chair between Hale and Carys, looking over the grounds. Green witches were the caretakers of the botanical gardens before them. Not a single weed grew. Okrith’s best gardeners perfectly positioned every flower and shrub like a living painting. Brilliant green parrots flew from tall palm trees, squawking in a strange sing-song Remy had never heard before. The Southern Court was enchanting. Remy felt Hale’s eyes watching as she drank in its beauty. She still refused to meet his gaze.
“Where did you find a red witch?” Neelo said, their attention fixed on the reflection pool.
“In the Western Court,” Hale boasted. He spoke as if Remy were a treasure that he had stumbled upon.
“Are there any more red witches in the West who would like a patron?” Neelo’s brown eyes slid to Remy.
“Not that I know of,” Remy hedged. Neelo pursed their lips at her. She wasn’t sure how to speak to the Heir of Saxbridge. They didn’t seem particularly welcoming.
Remy had only ever known fae as males or females. The fae were not men and women like the witches and humans—they were different creatures. But the heir was neither male nor female, neither prince nor princess, and it left Remy feeling on the back foot at what she should say to Neelo, fearful that she would offend them.
Everyone else seemed so at ease with what to say and do. Remy felt a rising tide of shame that she had never considered a person like Neelo before. She had met feminine men and masculine women, like Bri . . . but she had met no one who existed outside of that dynamic entirely, like Neelo. Remy grimaced. Maybe she had and didn’t even realize.
“Thank you for meeting with us. You know how I love the food here,” Hale said. He looked over his shoulder to a waiter and mimed a drink. That seemed to be enough information as the waiter scurried away.
“I was required to conduct another outing this week,” Neelo said, tracing the gold embossing of a serpent on the cover of their book. “My mother will be pleased.”
“Still making you show yourself about town?” Hale asked with a chuckle.
“It’s getting worse now that I’m of eligible age.” Neelo pushed their jaw to the side. Remy looked over the Heir of Saxbridge. They must be eighteen. Something about them seemed much older and much younger at the same time.
The Queen of the Southern Court and her heir subverted the traditional parent-child relationship. The Queen was a wild reveler, and Neelo seemed levelheaded and quiet. She had heard so many wild stories about the Southern Court Queen. Remy wondered what it must be like to be the child of an oversexed Queen who bragged about her parties and orgies around a dinner table. What expectations did that put on an introverted child?
“What other debauchery has your mother scheduled for you this season?” Hale asked, like he did not care, but everyone around the table listened more intently.
“Ugh, everything is a game to her. She’s arranged duels where the winner gets to promenade with me around the gardens, an archery tournament I must attend, and, oh, there’s this card game tomorrow night.” Neelo frowned. “Mother has long been in possession of a High Mountain ring.”
“The Shil-de ring?” Hale mused.
Neelo leveled him with a look and said, “Yes.”
“Why would Queen Emberspear not wear it herself?” Remy asked. All eyes turned to her, and she instantly regretted speaking. It was not their goal to convince the queen to keep the ring.
“Because it would take all the fun out of her revels if she knew the games of fire spinning and poison drinking could not harm her,” Carys cut in with an annoyed tone.
“I’ve missed you Carys.” Neelo laughed morosely. Carys winked at Neelo. So the two of them knew each other too. Carys didn’t look like a Southern Court fae, but, now that Remy thought about it, the fae warrior had a hint of a Southern lilt. Her words always seemed to go up at the end of her sentences. Remy spoke all the three languages of Okrith: Ific, the common tongue, Mhenbic, the witch’s language, and Yexshiri, the native tongue of the High Mountain Court. “So she’s gambling away a priceless talisman for fun?” Remy furrowed her brow. All the eyes looked at her again. She should really stop talking. It was their goal to get this ring after all.
“You mean rather than give it to her only child?” Neelo’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Yes. The Queen doesn’t think to the future or to whoever might possess the ring if it leaves the Southern Court.” Neelo looked to Hale again. “I know you’re terrible with cards, but you’re welcome to come.”
Yes. An invitation.
“You know I’m always up for a bit of fun.” Hale gave Neelo that charming smile of his. It did nothing to Neelo’s gloomy facial expression. Remy liked that. The prince’s charms did not work on the Heir of Saxbridge. It was nice to see him knocked down a peg.
“It’s at nine o’clock at the Crownwood Parlor in Ruttmore,” Neelo said. “Come if you like.”
The edge of the promenade led right under the café balcony. People lingered along it to gawk at them. The two heirs to the different thrones were far more fascinating than the gardens. Neelo looked to the group with a stony, tight face but bowed their head. The flustered group responded with flourished, deep bows to the heir. This was part of the royal world: bowing, simpering onlookers.
A server arrived with a tray of steaming hot coffees in painted ceramic teacups. They placed a miniature mug before Remy. She looked at the thick black liquid inside. It smelled nutty and spicy, unlike anything she had smelled before. She looked around the table as the fae all picked up their delicate cups and began sipping. No one added cream or sugar like they did with tea, Remy noted. What was this strange elixir they called coffee?
She lifted her cup and took the smallest sip. Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. The strong, bold flavor blasted over her tongue and down her throat. Bri chuckled at her as she took another sip. Remy wished they drank their coffee with cream and sugar to cover the bitterness. A pleasant warmth spread through her body though, along with an electrical current of sudden energy. She took another sip of the bold, revitalizing drink, its flavor more pleasant on the second try.
Another server arrived and laid out a huge tray that ran the length of their table. A selection of breads and crackers ringed the edges of the tray while the middle held an assortment of dented copper bowls.
Talhan pointed to the bright red sauce in the center. “Careful with that one,” he said to Remy with a wink.
The Twin Eagles descended on the tray, grabbing crispy round crackers to scoop up food from the bowl of yellow potato and beans.
Remy grabbed a triangle of soft, buttery bread and dipped it in a warm, thick mixture. She took a tentative bite. A spicy explosion of ginger, cumin, and chilies burst into her mouth. Remy had to force down the indecent noises she wanted to make. It tasted that good. These green witches may seem passive, but their magic was as powerful as any other. Remy felt like she was floating outside her body—the flavors dancing on her tongue pulled her into the clouds better than any alcohol she had ever drunk.
“Good, right?” Talhan said through a greedy mouthful of food.
Remy hummed happily as she bobbed her head and reached for another cracker.
* * *
They sat eating and sipping coffee, delighting in the sunny splendor of the Southern Court for several hours. Plenty of time to get them noticed by all the highborn fae in the capital city. By the time a tray of little powdered cakes appeared in front of them, the sun was setting behind the garden’s distant palm trees. The sky was pink and orange, as if even the sun painted with more colors in the Southern Court.
A string quartet had set up on the grass near the café, ready to entertain the evening crowds. The lively music mixed with the decadent food and balmy evening air. Remy felt even more overcome by the melodies as the coffee switched to honeyed wine. Her entire body felt like it was vibrating, every sense in her stretched to its fullest. She would never forget this moment in the Southern Court.
Carys reached out and grabbed Remy’s hand, pulling her to stand. “Come on,” she said, her bright blue eyes twinkling at Remy. “Let’s go dance.”
“I don’t know how to dance.” Remy yanked back on Carys’s arm, but the fae warrior merely tugged harder.
“I will show you, it’s easy.” She laughed, swaying to the sounds. She was bubbly and loose from all that wine.
Carys guided Remy down the marble steps of the café and onto the grass past the white gravel promenade. A few other fae had gathered here in front of the orchestra and were dancing in spirited couples. Carys wrapped her hand around Remy’s back and pulled Remy to stand in front of her.
“I’ll lead.” Carys giggled. Her cheeks were rosy as she moved. The Southern Court was working its magic on her too. “Put your hand on my shoulder.”
Remy did. Carys took her other hand and guided her into a simple box step.
“I thought you didn’t know how to dance?” Carys asked as Remy followed her lead.
“I don’t . . . not really,” Remy said, falling into a simple rhythm along to the slow tune. “I learned a little when I was a young child. I think it’s just muscle memory.”
A few of the other couples circled closer for a better look. Carys simply offered them an effortless, if not slightly patronizing, smile.
“Do you know them?” Remy whispered.
“Some of them, yes,” Carys said through her smile. She twirled Remy further away from the onlookers, dipping Remy low with a laugh. “This will give them something to talk about.”
“You used to live here?” Remy asked, clinging to Carys as she hoisted her onto her feet.
“I grew up here,” Carys said. Remy squinted at her. “My parents were Northerners by blood but they both grew up here too . . . it’s a long story.”
Remy pursed her bottom lip over her teeth. It probably wasn’t a long story, only one that Carys didn’t want to tell. The song slowed, and Carys spun Remy one more time before they both dropped into a bow to each other.
Polite clapping sounded from around and above them. Remy looked up to see Bri, Talhan, and Hale leaning over the balustrade, watching the two of them. Hale’s white teeth gleamed as he smiled at them, but Remy could tell from her periphery that his eyes bored into her with an intensity that did not match that charming smile.
The music picked up into a faster tune, and Carys swept Remy away from that intense look. She moved her in wide, arcing circles until Remy’s head was spinning. Her feet stumbled a few times at the quick, side-skipping steps. She kept pace, though, moving in time with the female fae, but Remy breathed a sigh of relief when the song slowed to its final notes. Panting from the exertion, she bowed to Carys again. Another round of polite clapping. She sensed Hale’s eyes upon her still, but she didn’t dare look his way.
Talhan’s voice pulled them from beginning the next dance.
“Off to do some shopping. See you later,” he called to the two of them with a wink. They knew what he was off to buy: an item needed for the game tomorrow night. He turned to Neelo and said, “Care to join me?”
“That would be a no, Tal,” Neelo said, their eyes glued back on the pages of their book. Talhan shrugged and kept walking.
“Enough with this dancing,” Bri said, leaning on one elbow, effortlessly swinging her legs over the ledge and landing on her feet before them. “It’s time to train.”
“What, here? Now?” Remy balked as Bri handed Remy a dagger and unsheathed her sword. It had been nearly a week since she had seen Bri. The training with Carys had been much less grueling.
“Yes, here. Now.” Bri smirked. Her golden eyes also gleamed with too much honey wine. “Time to burn off all that coffee.”
“I’m too full,” Remy groaned. The tight waistline to her dress felt like it was cutting into her. She should have stopped eating when it tightened, but the food was too good.
Bri leaned in and said quietly, “We’re here to be noticed. Think of all the tales of the Eastern Prince’s ruffians sparring in the gardens.”
Bri didn’t give Remy enough time to respond as she swung her sword. Remy lifted the dagger in her hand to block. The surrounding crowd gasped. The dancing couples around them moved out of the line of attack.
Bri shoved Remy playfully. She hooted and ran down the promenade. Remy laughed, chasing after her. Carys was only a step behind, taking out her own sword as she ran. Bri leapt onto the lip of the reflection pool as Remy swung for her legs. Bri easily jumped the sword and swiped back at Remy. Carys entered the fray, and they took turns trading strikes and blocks. This wasn’t like their real training. Bri pulled every strike and Carys moved at half her usual speed. This was all for show. Remy couldn’t contain the laughter that erupted from her as they moved. She felt like a child chasing Fenrin around with a stick again.
Carys leapt onto the edge of the reflection pool to attack Bri. The two parlayed, balancing along the thin stone. Remy couldn’t help the thought that crossed her mind. A little voice inside her nudged her to do it. She rushed forward, throwing out her red magic, causing the two fae to plummet into the reflection pool.
Carys floundered when she hit the water and then popped back up, laughing so hard she didn’t make a sound. She dipped her hair into the water again to slick it back off her face.
“You witch!” Bri shouted, though her wet face was still grinning. She turned to Remy. “What are you laughing at?” She yanked the red witch in with them.
The cool water was welcome from the sultry evening air. Remy wiped back the hair stuck on her face. Her body shook with unstoppable laughter.
The three of them sat there in shoulder-deep water on the smooth tiles of the pool. A whole crowd had gathered around the edge. Bri turned her golden amber eyes on them and they all scattered.
“Ah, that was fun.” Carys smiled as her hands swirled idly through the water.
Remy’s cheeks hurt from smiling. Her core felt like she had just done a hundred sit-ups. She had used her magic. In public. And no one had run away or screamed.
She heard crunching gravel and looked over to see Hale standing with his arms crossed over his chest, smirking at the three of them.
“Ladies,” he said as one cheek dimpled. “You put on quite a show.”
“Care to join us?” Carys taunted, flicking water at him.
“I think perhaps we should take a turn around the promenade to dry off a bit before calling a carriage back to Ruttmore.” Remy kept her eyes on the whorls of water as he spoke. “I don’t want to spend a bag of gold on compensating the carriage owner for ruining their upholstery.”
Bri snorted but stood. Carys and Remy followed. As Remy moved to climb out of the pool, Hale’s hand appeared. He offered it out to her expectantly, and she reluctantly took it. After she climbed out of the pool, she moved to let go of his hand but he said, “Walk with me.”
She wasn’t sure if it was a request or command as he released her hand and offered his elbow. Remy felt the eyes of people on her and knew she shouldn’t refuse. She took his arm and let him guide her down the long walk, leaving a trail of dripping water in her wake.