Page 10 of Fae Tithe (The Cursed Courts #1)

The following three days passed in a monotonous blur for Eleanor.

She was let out only to relieve herself by the roadside, wrist manacled and chained to one of her Fae captors after her first short-lived escape attempt.

They would turn their backs, offering her a small illusion of privacy.

Eleanor had studied the thin, silver chain as she squatted.

It glinted brightly in the sunlight and chimed when the breeze wafted through.

The first time she had been chained, she had smashed a heavy stone down onto it.

A pealing bell resonated, and the manacle squeezed tighter onto her wrist, rubbing her skin raw.

Of course it’s Faedamn magic. Eleanor hissed through her teeth as it loosened again, exposing the red welt to the air.

She was given road rations of hard biscuits and cheese for meals.

Her rough nights were spent sleeping, stretched out on one of the plush seats within her portable prison.

The three Fae would swap their shifts at regular intervals throughout the nights.

She knew exactly when the shift changes occurred, feeling the weight dip in the carriage as they moved, rousing her from an already restless sleep.

By the third night, Eleanor watched through the window into the pitch black.

She squinted at the small lamps in the dark as the carriage eased off the road, coming to a complete stop.

She clenched her jaw in worry as the carriage dipped and righted.

Eleanor heard dull thuds, the clinking of rattling chains, and the distinctive sound of heavy hoofbeats being led away on gravel.

What now? She chewed the raw skin on her bottom lip.

The captain stood and took a half-step over to Eleanor. He clicked the now-familiar manacle of the chain around her wrist, attaching the other end to his own. Eleanor seethed, eyes burning into the captain as he tugged her up.

“Where are you taking me?” she bit out.

“An inn. Surely you’d want a decent meal and soft bed by now,” he replied, turning his back to her.

He unlocked the door, opened it, and stepped down from the carriage compartment, the dark of the night sucking him in.

Eleanor squinted into the black, the dull lamps beyond doing nothing to help her see much beyond her nose.

A hand extended, offering a palm to help her down.

She ignored the offer and jumped down herself, braving the dark and the height.

She had surmised days ago that the carriage had been designed and built with the tall Fae-kind in mind.

She lost her footing as she jumped, but the captain reached out and grabbed her, his hands firm on her wrists, catching Eleanor before she slipped the whole way. She righted herself, pulling out of his grasp, her nose crinkled in revulsion from his touch.

She shivered in the night, hairs raised on her arms, breath steaming from her mouth as the cold worked its way into her lungs.

Eleanor rubbed her palms together, trying to warm herself, the silver chain chiming as it shook from her movements.

She squinted into the night, just able to make the shape of the captain’s face through the gloom.

Eleanor felt a stab of contempt in her gut as she scowled up at him.

She dug in her heels. “Yes, but why?” Her heart hammered, quiet panic at the break in the routine of the past three days.

Deon’s face appeared out the gloom, his face crinkled in disgust as he flared his nostrils. “Because you reek! We can’t have you showing up to the manor like that.”

Eleanor stared down at her clothing. She was still wearing her school uniform.

Suddenly, she became acutely aware of the wrinkles on her blouse and the grass stains on her skirt.

She could not see her shoes in the dark, but the smell of vomit on them wafted up to her in the night air.

Feeling ill at her stench, nausea turning her belly, a flush of hot shame passed over her cheeks.

She snapped her gaze back up to him. “That’s hardly my fault,” Eleanor growled, her shame flowering to rage. “You didn’t let me get washed or changed.”

A muscle feathered in Deon’s jaw as he stared back, eyebrows drawn together in contempt. Eleanor waited for a retort or a barb, but instead the guard turned to his Captain.

“Mathias is settling the horses and there is a communal bathhouse here.” He tossed a thumb over his shoulder.

The captain nodded. Eleanor felt a tug at her manacled wrist and the shiver of the chain as she was pulled closer to Deon. Her eyes widened in horror as she realised, she had been attached to him.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Deon growled, lifting his manacled wrist. “I’m not going in with her.”

Eleanor matched his protest, her throat nearly closing in panic. “There is no Faedamn way I’m washing or changing in front of him.”

The captain let out a long exhale, rubbing his temple with his fingertips. “Deon, you need to remember that I’m in charge here, not you. I need a fucking break from the pair of you.” He narrowed his gaze at his subordinate. “Is there any way out of the bathhouse besides the door?”

The blonde Fae backed down. “Apologies, Captain.” He then furrowed his brow, a thoughtful look on his face. “No. There’s only a tiny vent, she couldn’t possibly—”

“Good.” The captain turned to her, stormy-eyed and jaw set. “He will let you off the chain and lock you in, so you can get washed and changed alone. So, behave. ”

Eleanor opened her mouth to retort, but before she had a chance, he turned on his booted heel and strode into the night. Deon tugged at her, his outline in the gloom swooping down to pick something up to her right.

“My bag!” she exclaimed, surprise widening her eyes. “How did you get this? Why didn’t you let me have it before?”

“Captain Sylus had the school pack your clothes before we collected you.” Deon shoved the saddlebags in her arms. “Now, shut up. The captain may have found your questions amusing the past couple of days, but I definitely didn’t.”

Eleanor scowled at him, trudging close behind as her shoes crunched on the gravel path. She tried to follow his lead as he strode confidently ahead.

Can he see in the dark? He and the captain don’t seem to have any problems moving around. Eleanor tilted her head around his large body, spying more lamps in the darkness. That must be it. When he lets me off, I may be able to get away.

The lights at the tall wooden doors cast the bathhouse in an eerie glow.

Large limestone blocks stacked on top of each other formed the square building and the roof was topped with terracotta tiles.

Eleanor stepped next to Deon, her eyes drawn to the rattle at his belt.

He loosened a thick key and pushed it into the brass lock on the door, turning it with a clunk.

“Where’d you get that?” Eleanor jabbed, “steal it?”

Deon titled his chin down to her, his gaze narrowed. “You know, most humans just do what Fae tell them, it’s you that’s different. I simply told the innkeeper I wanted the key and he gave it to me.” He tugged open the door, the hinges creaking and the light within spilling out.

Eleanor blinked at the sudden illumination, tears stinging at the glare.

Before she could recover from the speckles dancing in her vision, Deon tugged on the chain, pulling her inside.

Once her eyes had adjusted, she scanned the low-ceilinged room, the walls smooth and whitewashed.

Eleanor breathed in the warm steam, chasing the cold air from her lungs.

She continued her study of the bathhouse. There! She spotted a narrow window. No glass, it must be to let out the steam. She blinked. It’s not that small, maybe I could—

“Are you listening?”

Eleanor snapped her focus away from the window and turned to scowl at Deon. “No. What is it?”

Deon let out a long sigh. “I said, you have fifteen minutes in here.” He pulled out his pocket watch and flashed it in front of her face, tapping it with a nail. “Once that’s up, I’m coming in for you.” He shoved the time piece back into his belt.

Eleanor’s gaze dropped to his wrist as he turned his palm up, he tapped the back of his knuckles on his manacle, and it sprang open.

“Give me your hand.” She acquiesced and extended her own wrist. Deon repeated the procedure, freeing her. He gathered the chain and attached it to his belt. “Fifteen minutes,” he repeated before turning his back and stomping his way out of the bathhouse.

Eleanor glowered after the Fae as he slammed the door behind him, turning the lock with a rough click. She rubbed her freed wrist, pain emanating from the raw skin, and turned her attention back to the vent.

This might be my last chance. A delicate bud of hope bloomed in her chest. I think I can fit. She ran her gaze over the room for the third time, running her hand over the smooth white wall, slippery from the steam. A small collection of wooden stools was stacked in the corner. There!

Eleanor dashed over and picked the tallest one, hefting it up. She lugged it to just beneath the window, setting it down as quietly as she could. She took a step up onto it and then another, bracing herself against the wall for balance.

You can do this, El. She took a deep breath, grasping the sill with her fingers, heaving her body upwards.

Eleanor sucked in her breath, heart hammering, as she shoved herself through the small opening.

One arm shot through first, she felt the prick of gravel dig into her palms, the loose stones making it difficult for her to find purchase.

Eleanor kicked up, her shoes knocking the stool over.

A sharp crack rang in her ears as wood met tile.

Faedamn. Panic dried Eleanor’s tongue as she wriggled her body the rest of the way out, squeezing her torso through, followed by flailing legs. She hissed through her teeth as the rough gravel ripped at her uniform, grazing her belly and chest. Did he hear that?

Eleanor rolled onto her back, chest rising and falling in rhythm with thundering pulse. The cold night air stung her scrapes as she forced herself up. The pitch black closed in on her as the crunching steps of gravel met her back.

She sprinted away, blind in the night. Eleanor dared not look behind her, sensing a rushing presence behind her.

She managed a few strides before she felt a hand wrap around her hair, yanking her, but catching her before she fell flat on her back.

Pain flared through her scalp. She screamed, the sound echoing into the quiet surrounds.

“Little bitch,” Deon spat, “this is why we were bringing you all separately, less chance of this happening. But of course, the captain would get saddled with you for Tithe duty.”

The Fae spun Eleanor around so she met his gaze. Recoiling at his glare, Deon slapped the silver manacle back around her skinny wrist. Tears of frustration streamed down her cheeks at her failure to escape. She gasped a sob as he pulled her away into the night.

“Where are you taking me now?” she wept, trembling as the shock of her recapture left her legs.

“Well, not back to the bathhouse. We’re going straight to the inn,” Deon growled, stomping ahead of her. “You’ll take a meal in the room, chained to me, and sleep. I’ll make sure you’re not out of sight again. Thank fuck we’re handing you over tomorrow, because I’ve had enough of you.”