Page 1 of Fae Tithe (The Cursed Courts #1)

H is euphoric Siren song drifted from beneath the ocean waves, rising into the sharp night air. The deep melody echoed its way up the white cliffs and rattled the windows of the tumbledown villa perched on top.

Eleanor snapped awake, jolted from deep slumber huddled under threadbare blankets. The sound seeped into her bones, its reverberations shaking her as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

She rolled her eyes. Mum will be happy. Those two are worse than teenagers when they’re together.

Eleanor, at sixteen, considered herself an authority on teenagers.

After all, she was one. She glanced at the hand-drawn paper calendar hanging on her tarnished mirror, its edges worn by age and sea salt.

A glimpse of her sun-kissed face and freckled nose flickered in the glass before her eyes dropped to the heart drawn around that day’s date.

“Almost time,” she murmured, trying to ignore the butterflies in her belly. It was the beginning of a new school year. It was the beginning of her last school year. “Then… I can do anything, go anywhere, be anyone.”

She gave a firm nod and leapt out of bed.

Her feet hit the worn sheepskin rug spread carefully over the terracotta tiles.

The cold still seeped through the pelt, making her toes curl from winter’s last bites.

Eleanor pottered around her room for a while, trying to rid herself of the nervous energy burning within.

She double-checked her packed bags. She made her bed and raked a brush through her long ash-brown hair, putting it up into a low ponytail.

The energy within her was bubbling over by the time Eleanor heard a clatter and a hushed curse from the kitchen. Her mother was already up and awake.

“Good morning, Mum!” Eleanor chirped as she bounced into the kitchen.

“Morning El, sleep well?”

Her mother turned from the wood-burning stove where she was already warming a big pot of water she had gathered from the well on the villa’s grounds, which was mostly dedicated to growing food and the family’s ever-growing flock of chickens.

Her heavily freckled face smiled, fine lines crinkling the edges of her warm brown eyes.

“Not too bad,” Eleanor replied. “I was so excited it took me ages to actually get to sleep.”

“It took me a while to drop off too.” She gave her a small smile before she turned back to her task. Her mother clanged around some more, organising plates and mugs for them to use. “Coffee, love? I am doing some toast too.”

“Sure, thanks.” The teenage girl bit her lip. “I am not sure I can eat much though, too nervous.”

“It’s long ride to Portson, so it’s not up for discussion. You need to eat something. Even if it’s just a little bit.” There was no room for debate in her mother’s tone.

Eleanor’s boarding school was a long journey.

It was at least three hours on the back of the two fat ponies her mother kept for that very purpose.

Portson Finishing School for Girls was in the capital of Eleanor’s home province of Archipelago of Sol, the major shipping hub for all Seelieland.

Ancient stone bridges connected the multiple small islands, known as the Clusters, to the mainland.

“Fine.” Eleanor huffed, rolling her eyes.

Her mother Helena rolled her eyes right back at Eleanor.

She added a typical teenager sigh for good measure.

Eleanor watched as her mother poured the hot water through a filter contraption and dark brown liquid dripped into the glass below.

Helena then took a well-practiced hand and deftly cut thick slices from their homemade sourdough loaf.

She dropped a slice of the bread into a hot frying pan smeared with olive oil.

It hissed and spat, beginning to cook. Helena turned from the pan and poured her daughter a cup of black coffee from the filter.

She then stacked some salted fried bread in front of Eleanor.

“Alright, eat up,” Helena instructed, nodding toward at the plate.

“Yes, yes, I get it.” Eleanor grumbled before sipping the steaming black liquid from the chipped mug.

She picked up a piece of toast and took a bite, the crispness giving way to a soft, chewy centre.

She swallowed slowly, the taste lingering on her tongue.

She raised an eyebrow and gestured to the plate. “You too, right?”

“Sassy.” Helena sat next to her daughter at the dented wooden table with her own hot mug, she picked up a piece of toast and nibbled. She swallowed before continuing. “So, all packed?”

“Of course I am, I have been ready for ages ,” she replied with a huff.

“And you definitely have the spare bag of stationery I got you?” Helena asked, lip quirked upwards with amusement.

“ Yes, Mum, I do. I promise,” Eleanor replied, clicking her tongue against her teeth in exasperation.

“Good.” She nodded, taking another sip.

Eleanor watched her mother examining the charcoal drawing that sat framed on the wall.

The sketch showed the face of an older woman, drawn by an antlered faerie in the village closest to their home.

The ramshackle settlement had been cobbled together over the years as the human population of the island multiplied and they were joined by faeries of all kinds from the coast of Seelieland.

The skilful artist had captured the fire in his elderly subject’s eyes but also her kind smile.

Helena swallowed her bite. “Great Aunt Eleanor would be so proud of you.” She smiled gently at her daughter.

Eleanor barely remembered the older relative who was her namesake.

She could vaguely recall a small elderly woman with ashen curls, always ready to press a tender kiss to her forehead.

She had died ten years ago. Eleanor did know, however, that the Great Aunt had taken in Helena when she was very young, with a newborn in tow.

After much prodding, her mother had eventually revealed to her daughter exactly how they had come to be in the villa on the Clusters, the group of islands connected to the coast of Seelieland by ancient stone causeways.

Helena’s own mother and father had turned their back on her.

Eleanor’s father, Peter, had died suddenly in a bar brawl after having a glass smashed over his head.

Helena, only sixteen at the time, had refused a second match to yet another man, some old uncle who had been vaguely related to Helena’s dead husband.

This obstinate refusal had led to Helena having the door of her childhood home slammed in her face by her bad-tempered father, leaving her outside alone with a baby in her arms. Moments later, Helena’s own mother had run down the street and pressed a scrawled name and address into her hand.

She promised that the Great Aunt would look after them, and she did.

Eleanor noticed tears silvering in the corners of her mother’s sepia brown eyes. “Mum, don’t cry,” she begged. “I know you’ll miss me, but it always goes so fast when I’m at school, you say that all the time, remember?”

“Sorry, love.” Helena sniffed. The teenager watched as a tear made its escape down her mother’s bronzed cheek and dripped into her black coffee.

“It’s not quite that, though I do miss you when you’re gone, and you are growing up so fast. I was just thinking…

about how lucky we are, how far we have come.

This Circle drawn around us, keeping us together. ”

Eleanor had heard her mother talk about this many times in her sixteen years.

For no one in the family to go through what she had gone through, Helena espoused ‘The Circle’ philosophy to all of them.

She reiterated time and time again how important it was for them to look after each other and look after themselves.

They may not all be blood, but they were all family, and nothing was more important.

Eleanor repeated this mantra back to her mother: “You draw a Circle around the ones you love, and keep them safe, no matter what.” She knew this was why her mother worked so hard, to keep them all safe, fed, and sheltered.

“You got it.” Helena sniffed through her tears.

She wiped them away with the back of her hand, a practical look returned to her face, her brow slightly furrowed.

She drained her coffee and turned to her daughter.

“There’s hot water, El. Finish your breakfast, have a wash and get ready for the ride” Helena rose, the wooden chair scraped over the terracotta tiles.

Eleanor winced at the noise. Her mother stepped towards her and kissed the top of her daughter’s wavy hair.

“Can I say bye to Aunty Rose and the boys first?” Eleanor asked.

“Of course. Quickly, though,” she replied.

Eleanor watched as her mother stepped into her riding boots by the back door and made her way outside to where the ponies were kept.

She scooped a bowl of hot water from the pot her mother had been boiling on the stove.

She took it back to her bedroom to wash and dress.

Eleanor had to admit, she looked forward to returning to her school where running water was present, as unfortunately many homes on the Clusters depended on wells to supply their homes with.

After she was ready, sensibly clad in leather riding leggings, a thick jacket, buttoned snugly over the top of a cotton shirt and a knitted red scarf wrapped around her neck, Eleanor padded up the hallway in her thick socks.

She gently knocked on Rose’s bedroom door before peeking inside.

An oil-lamp light from the hallway cast a gentle glow over the three sleeping faces.

They were crammed awkwardly in the bed. Eleanor rolled her eyes at the common sight.