The High Mountain Court by A.K. Mulford

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The world halted when Remy saw his face. He looked so much like she remembered him, but he was a man now, growing taller than either of their parents. Raffiel and Remy both looked so much like their mother, warm brown skin and black loose curls. Raffiel used to favor wearing it long when he was twelve, but now he cut it short. His dark hair looked freshly shorn and blended into his short beard. Remy couldn’t believe he was capable of growing a beard.

He looked like a king.

In one blink Remy stared at her brother, cherishing the sight of him, and in the next all hell broke loose.

Bern pulled out his sword and took the short blade on his other hip, chucking it to Hale.

“Now!” She heard a barking shout and turned to find Bri, dressed in servant’s garb, her golden eyes staring into Remy’s. Talhan moved to her side, giving Remy a quick wink even amongst the mayhem before diving back into the throes of battle.

They had come for them.

Remy remembered the dagger hidden in her tunic and grabbed it as guards rushed them from all sides.

The elegant Northern fae morphed into a screaming throng, rushing toward every exit to escape the melee. The room echoed with the thunderous clanging of swords. Commanding shouts came from every direction in Ific, Mhenbic, and Yexshiri.

The shrieking cries of wounded and dying fighters cut above the rest of the noise.

Baba Morganna threw out a flash of red light, and the three guards behind her crumpled. The three red witches ran onto the dais toward the blue curtain, only to be faced head on by five guards. The witches’ hands glowed red, preparing to fight.

Remy’s vision blurred, trying to take it all in. She saw the whip of blonde braid and knew Carys was there. But the huge guard rushing her was her first concern. Bern and Raffiel fought behind her, so she focused straight ahead. She could not see the guard’s entire face, only the menace in his eyes as he advanced. She focused her magic on that heavy punishing sword, and it went clattering to the floor. The guard turned for his sword as Remy rushed in.

She slid on her knees across the blood-slicked floor and plunged her dagger into the back of the soldier’s knee. She yanked it free and slashed at the other knee. Not fast enough. As he fell, he backhanded her with a punishing blow to her ear. The room went quiet except for the high-pitched ringing in her ears, but she didn’t stop moving.

The guard toppled on his injured knees, dropping like a stone. His head now within reach, Remy moved without thought as she slid her dagger in between the man’s helmet and shoulder plate. Remy knew she had struck true when she heard his gurgling grunt.

Remy would add that sound to the list of things she would never be able to scrub out of her mind.

She held tight to her blade and scanned the room to find Rua. Her sister was still on the dais, fighting off what seemed like a never-ending onslaught of guards. Renwick stood behind the throne, sword drawn against no enemy. The two Kings and young prince had moved to the other end of the raised platform, all holding their drawn swords. An impenetrable wall of guards surrounded them. They did not flee the carnage, so certain they would win.

But as Remy looked around, she was not so certain of their victory. She spotted many mini battles happening in every corner of the room, guard against guard, fae courtiers against servants . . . how many people had Raffiel and Bern brought with them?

Remy’s eyes snagged on the scarred blue witch. She had not moved an inch since the fighting broke out. Chaos was erupting all around her, but she stood unmoving, waiting for the pandemonium to end, with the faintest smile on her face. It was a horrifying sight.

Rua stood far behind the blue witch, taking on a guard with her witch magic. Still in her witch form, her red hands sputtered with effort, her magic nearly spent. A guard rushed her, slamming her with the blunt end of his sword. Rua cried out, staggering into Renwick.

Remy watched wide-eyed, trapped by the fighting all around her, as Renwick grabbed Rua and moved her behind him, pinning her to the table of antiquities, as he turned his sword on the guard.

His own guard.

Remy only had a chance to blink at them before the bodies of two guards who rushed Rua went flying across the hall.

Baba Morganna’s power was burning so brightly it was blinding. Let them never forget she was the witch who moved mountains.

The heavy blue curtain fell, trapping the rushing guards under it, exposing the hallway of more guards, now blocked from running their way. Baba Morgana kept lifting guards with her magic and tossing them to the floor, crushing them in their armor. The remaining guards deserted.

Other guards fled Morganna now as she stacked the crushed bodies in front of all exits. She was blocking them in: no more reinforcements would come. This was a fight to the end. Death was in her eyes, promising vengeance for every single fallen witch.

A bellowing scream pierced the air.

Remy whirled to the source of that scream. It was Bern, collapsed on his knees, and in his arms—Raffiel’s drooping body. One of Raffiel’s eyes was missing, gushing blood where a knife had pierced his skull. Time seemed to freeze, every weapon pausing in mid-air to watch the fallen prince. He was not just one more dead body—he had been the Crown Prince of the High Mountain Court . . . and she didn’t see him fall.

Remy’s mind shattered into a million pieces. She never got to know him. The glimmer of hope that they would have a happy ending torn cruelly away before it ever began. An hour ago she had not known he was alive, and there he lay, dead once more.

Heart exploding, Remy searched frantically for someone to save him, but every potential ally was far away and outnumbered. Even Bern was forced to drop Raffiel’s body and grab his sword again, lest he be cut down too.

Remy stole one more glance at her fallen brother, then returned to the fray.

The guards still gravely outnumbered them. Remy scanned the hall, searching for Hale. There was Hale, fighting his way to the dais. Even as Hale cut down another guard, he fixed his eyes on the man he had once known as his father.

Remy rushed for him, pushing past servants running to cower behind overturned tables and fae courtiers screaming and holding each other. The general din was much quieter now. So many bodies lay strewn across the floors. The room reeked of blood and bile.

Remy reached Hale’s side. She jumped straight into his war dance, moving blades and fists. They reached the steps to the dais together. The crush of guards around the royals was too tight for the guards to use their long swords.

Remy ran onto the marble steps. From this angle, she was level with the guards’ knees. She sliced through tendons, the guards too distracted by Baba Morganna’s magic to notice her until her blade was piercing their skin. She dodged them as they fell, one after the other, down the dais stairs.

Hale reached the top step, slaying the last standing guard between him and his father. Remy stood breathless behind Hale, watching as Belenus stepped in front of his father.

Belenus’s sword shook as he pointed it to Hale, but hate filled his eyes.

“You destroy everything you touch, Hale,” Belenus snarled, his sour frown deepening. “You were never a part of this family, yet you’ve always been destroying it.”

“Step aside, Bel.” Hale heaved a breath, shaking his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Remy’s eyes stung. Despite everything, he still viewed the male before him as his little brother.

In a blur of movement, Belenus swept his sword, knocking Hale’s sword wide as he stepped into his brother’s body. In the same second, Belenus pulled out a hidden dagger and drove it into Hale’s heart.

* * *

Remy screamed.

“Bel.” Hale sucked in a drag of air.

Anger, horror, despair all seemed to flash across Belenus’s face. Remy rushed to Hale, but her Fated stayed standing. Remy couldn’t breathe. Her pounding heart deafened all other sounds as she clung to Hale.

But Hale lifted his head.

He pulled the dagger out of his chest and threw it down the steps behind him. Lifting his right hand, he examined the Shil-de ring on his ring finger.

“It can’t be,” Belenus whispered in horror, retreating a step.

“I’m sorry, brother.” Hale’s voice thickened. Before Belenus could lift his sword in his stupor, Hale swung his blade, slicing open his brother’s neck.

Blood poured down Belenus’s fine clothes as he choked, grasping for his throat with wide, unseeing eyes.

Hale loosed a heavy sob as he watched Belenus collapse.

“No!” roared the Eastern King. The shock on his face, now, watching gouts of blood pump out of his son’s neck, was the first glimmer of emotion on his face since he arrived.

King Norwood bellowed, blind with rage as he charged Hale.

Remy moved to back up Hale when a whipping wind sounded in her fae ears. She had just enough time to duck before a shining thin sword swung over her. She looked to her left and into the watery green eyes of King Vostemur.

“Well, Remini.” He smiled, still cold and calm even amongst the bloodshed. “I guess I will have to kill you myself.”

Swords clanged as Hale and King Norwood dueled behind her. She adjusted her grip on her dagger, and King Vostemur huffed a laugh.

“Soon it will be Queen Remini, Vostemur,” she promised. She knew it the moment she saw Raffiel fall. Her entire life had led her to this point. She could not hide away any longer from who she was. “I will take back everything you have stolen from my family. But you won’t live long enough to see it.”

Vostemur wiped a spot of blood off his hand, otherwise remaining pristine, unmarred by the bloodbath swirling around him.

“You are going to cut me down with that puny dagger, Princess?” He laughed. “I’ve been slicing this sword through people since before you were even born.”

King Vostemur swung his sword in feigned swipes meant to push Remy backward. She darted out of reach, circling him, but every time she charged, his sword was right there again. For a portly, half-drunk, old man he was damn quick with his weapon.

She ducked under his blade, rushing in once more. This time she made contact, cutting across his leg. It was not a killing blow but would slow him down. The Northern King howled as he kicked her again with his other leg.

Remy rolled backward into a crouch. She held those monstrous green eyes as she stood. She let him see every promise of death in them. As she lifted her hand, her dagger flew from her grip, knocked away by a guard who had sneaked up behind her.

Remy spun—another guard was running up the stairs at her.

Shit.

King Vostemur lifted his sword again, and Remy ducked in toward his body, grasping at the amulet around his neck. Her fingers grazed the red stone, causing it to flare red. Remy was thrown to the side, but it was enough. The amulet of Aelusien gave her a sudden strobe of power, and she threw it out at the three guards at her back, sending them flying across the room.

Vostemur’s eyes widened, seeing how readily she absorbed the amulet’s power. He hastily grabbed its gold chain and tucked the powerful stone into his jacket. If she wanted a boost of power again, she would have to kill him for it.

Remy dodged as Vostemur attacked again. She searched wildly around her. She needed a weapon.

Hale and King Norwood were still battling behind King Vostemur, and the Eastern King had Hale pinned against the wall. Norwood knew what he was doing. He sneered, knowing the Shil-de ring protected Hale. But he could keep him from getting to Remy in time to save her.

Remy scanned the room, searching for aid. She couldn’t find any. The witches were still raining hellfire on the remaining guards while Bern, the Eagles, and Carys battled the remaining guards and courtiers through the gory terrain of dead bodies.

Another four guards charged up the stairs to aid their King. Remy dropped toward her dagger, but a guard kicked it out of her reach. Three swords pointed at her from every angle.

The guard to her right gasped, blood spurting from his neck. A loud clanging sounded, and the guard fell face-first to the ground. Behind him stood a servant wielding a dented silver tray and clutching a bloody carving knife. No, not a servant.

Fenrin.

Fenrin stood there in Northern servant garb, panting.

Her relief was short lived as searing-hot pain slashed across her arm. King Vostemur had sliced open her bicep, and Remy spun to face him.

“Goodbye, Princess.” He smiled and raised his sword.

Suddenly, Vostemur grunted as the air punched out of him. His eyes went impossibly wide, bulging from his skull. His jacket began flowing with blood, though no wound was visible. Sword clattering to the ground, he looked over Remy’s shoulder.

“Impossible.” His voice was barely audible over the gurgling of blood from his mouth.

Remy turned, and her heart seized.

Ruadora, Princess of the High Mountain Court, held the Immortal Blade.

An ethereal white glow emanated from the sword, shrouding her little sister. Her hair blew behind her in an invisible wind, her eyes blazing. She smiled, possessed by the power of the Immortal Blade. Rua twisted the glowing sword. The Northern King cried out in agony as he fell to his knees.

“This is for my people and for my family.” Her voice like a wildcat, she swept the glowing blade through the air.

King Vostemur cried out, but nothing stopped the landing blow. His severed head volleyed into the shrieking crowd. Remy watched in awe as none other than her little sister finally slew their family’s sworn enemy.

The fight was over, or so she thought—a fatal error she realized as she turned her back on the remaining guard. Fenrin screamed her name.

So strange to hear his screams, so many screams of her name coming from every direction.

Why?

The room had slowed, her vision blurred, her ears echoing with muffled sounds like she was under water. She felt warm liquid dripping down her stomach and the legs of her trousers. She looked down and saw it: the tip of a long sword protruded out her middle.

Someone pulled the sword free, and the world sped up again as Remy collapsed to the white marble floor. How fitting to die on the same tiles as the rest of her family.

One by one the screams ended around her, Rua cutting down every remaining guard in easy swoops, the blade never needing to touch its victims.

And then Hale’s face appeared over her.

* * *

Hale’s eyes shone from his blood-speckled face. Blood soaked his hands. Her blood, she realized. Remy couldn’t feel her legs anymore, only sensing the sticky warmth of her blood pooling beneath her.

Hale’s brows twisted and furrowed in pain. The gray of his eyes was almost invisible through his tears. She had died in his arms once before, but this—this was different. He was her Fated now. He was her soul living outside her body. They were so intertwined she knew that even in death she would live on through him.

The agonizing, stabbing pain was all that kept her conscious. The shock had worn off. The brutal acceptance that this was a mortal wound hit her.

Remy’s head felt light: everything around her seemed to spin, Hale’s tear-stained face blurred, and nausea crept up slowly. She knew the Twin Eagles stood over her, too, and she ached with regret that she couldn’t say goodbye.

Why had she thought she could overthrow the Northern King?

Remy’s body demanded she rest. Her eyes fluttered closed, only to widen again at the rolling waves of stabbing pain through her chest. She fell into numbness only for the searing pain to mercilessly revive her again and again

Remy whimpered, and Hale’s face crumpled. It would not be Remy who had to scrub away all the images of horror from this day. It would be Hale. She knew he would never forget this moment or her dying face.

She reached up a bloody hand and placed it on his cheek. The tremors of her arm barely held it steady.

Remy wanted to tell him she knew this was it. She wanted him to comfort her and tell her it wasn’t true. She wanted to beg to be saved and cry that she wasn’t ready to die and that there was so much of their life to live together.

But she didn’t.

As the tears fell from her eyes into her hair, all she said was, “I love you.”

Hale sobbed as he bent to her and placed a tear-covered kiss on her lips. Remy tasted the salt of his tears. When Hale pulled back, the corner of his mouth was bloody. He didn’t wipe the blood away.

Remy coughed up more blood. The end was near, then. Remy closed her eyes and relaxed her muscles. She tried to take a deep breath and then another, but every breath was a stabbing pain.

She couldn’t breathe.

Her chest felt so heavy as she panted. Then everything went numb. She couldn’t feel any more pain or panic to catch a breath, and it was a sweet relief. Soon everything would be over, and she would rest forever.

“Remy.” The word was a trembling whisper, but it was not from Hale.

Remy opened her eyes to see Heather hovering over her. Heather wore servants’ garb like Fenrin. Tear tracks stained her cheeks, but she smiled down at Remy. And Remy, despite everything, smiled back at her.

To see her mother one last time. Because that’s what she was and always had been, her mother. It did not matter if they shared the same blood. They were family.

Then Remy spotted a dagger clenched in Heather’s hand, and she knew what was about to happen.

Remy shook her head as more tears fell, mouthing the word “No” though no sound came out of her bloodied mouth.

Heather nodded with a calm, loving smile. This was the last time they’d see each other, sure enough, but it would not be Remy leaving this world.

“I loved you from the moment I first saw you, my Remy,” Heather said. So many tears poured down her cheeks as she smiled at her daughter. “I meant it when I said I would give my life for yours.”

Remy scrambled to speak, but Heather placed a steadying hand on her shoulder.

“Help lead this world into a better future, Remy. Be brave and kind and strong and clever, as you’ve always been.” Heather’s lips quirked up. “Be all the things I tried to teach you to be, but most of all, my Remy, be loved.”

With that, she looked up. And with a chant of “Midon Brik Dzaraas,” she plunged the dagger into her heart. Remy couldn’t move, couldn’t scream. Her body and mind numbed as she faded away.