Page 15 of Fae Tithe (The Cursed Courts #1)

H elena, her spectacles slipping down her nose, fiddled with the large iron padlock that was chained to the door of her rudimentary work shed at the base of the cliff.

It was nestled far enough up the beach that high tide never touched it.

Lance waited patiently behind her, arms full of towels, fins, goggles, and changes of clothes.

“Got it,” she grunted as the large key clicked to the left. “I will have to oil this later.”

The door of the wooden shed creaked and groaned as she pushed it open, the hinges complaining from lack of use after a long winter.

A vague smell of salt and seaweed wafted into Helena’s nostrils as she stepped into the dim interior.

She checked the equipment that she used for pearling inside.

The magnifying glasses, tweezers, and glass beads were all in good condition, aside from being slightly dusty.

While she did that, Lance unpacked the oil lamps from their wooden boxes and tested that they all still functioned.

Happy enough that everything was in working order, Helena slipped her round, gold-framed spectacles from her face.

She folded them and placed them carefully on her workbench, next to the base of the pair of fixed magnifying glasses.

Lance left the towels and spare clothes in the shed but insisted on carrying everything else down the shoreline.

“Let me help,” he argued. “You do not have to do everything by yourself, especially when I am here.”

Helena conceded. He was right, and she should accept his help when he was home. It was just hard for her to remember sometimes. She had been so conditioned by Eleanor’s father to never ask for help, to never ask for anything, that even all these years later it was a hard habit for her to break.

It’s so different with Lance, I must remember that.

He handed off the goggles and fins to Helena when their toes brushed the shoreline.

The Merman slipped off his shorts. He then picked up the net baskets again in his arms, biceps bulging, as he stepped into the water until it was at his hips.

Lance’s form took several minutes to shift.

Before long, Helena could see his shimmering tail peeking from the waves.

Helena followed with goggles on her head and fins in her arms. She raked her eyes over him and her face split into a grin. “I really like the tail,” she teased, “perhaps a little too much.”

Lance hummed a tenor song in his chest. It was a sound that Helena had come to understand was the Merman’s laugh in his true form, not so different from his chuckle when he was human-shaped.

He whipped his teal tail around and soaked her still-dry torso.

Lance closed the distance in between them as Helena pushed her dripping hair from her eyes.

The Merman pushed the net baskets to his elbows, reaching out to her.

Helena quivered as he ran the back of his claw down the edge of her cotton covered breast. She wore similar swimming clothes to the day before, but in blue.

“Different ones?” he asked, hands moving quickly to form signs.

“Yes, different ones. Someone shredded the black ones I wore yesterday. Know anything about that?” Helena retorted, quick hand movements matching her words. She knew he could hear her, but habit meant her hands would sign whenever they were in the water together.

The Merman sung his laugh in response. Helena felt Lance’s eyes continue to watch her as she slipped on her goggles and kicked on her flippers. She tried to take the net baskets from his arms. He pulled them away from her reach and shook his head.

Helena sighed and surrendered to him. She knew Lance could be just as stubborn as she was. More than once in their relationship they had butted heads over doing things for each other, each thinking the other did too much. They swam together in a familiar rhythm.

Lance began to serenade her in a language of the Seafolk. She had no idea what he was singing, but the melody was sweet and light, and Helena was grateful to have music to accompany the hard, tedious work.

She dived again and again to different areas of her pearl farm. She picked up large oysters woven into their holding nets by carefully untying them. Helena would then pass them to Lance, who would store them in the net’s baskets, looped onto his arms, for safekeeping.

Between each collection, Helena would burst to the surface and take a deep breath, filling her starved lungs. At the twentieth oyster she surfaced, chest heaving.

“Let me catch my breath…” Helena panted while treading water. “…then we will go back to the shore.”

She looked back to the beach. They were some distance away, and she knew she would have to rest a moment before she could make the swim.

Lance crooned a reply. He blinked at her with a fang-filled grin on his face.

Suddenly, he disappeared from her sight beneath the waves.

Before she knew it, he had slipped his strong body beneath her and positioned Helena on top of his back.

He reached behind him, grabbing her wrists with his fingers and setting them on his toned shoulders.

“You don’t have to—”

She watched the back of his head shake from side to side as he angled his webbed hands high out of the water. The full baskets had been shoved to his elbows, so she could see the movements of his hands as she peeked over his shoulder.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to,” he signed.

“Okay, okay…” Helena relented. She rolled her eyes at him through her goggles, but was touched by his concern.

Helena could tell he was smug that he had convinced her to let him help again .

She felt Lance begin to work his teal tail up and down, setting a gentle pace back to shore.

Helena pushed her goggles to her hair and rested the side of her face on the back of Lance’s neck as he swam.

She breathed slowly in and out, the ache of the swim leaving her muscles.

Lance began to sing again, a different melody from the one before, quieter and more soothing.

The tune sent a relaxing vibration through her chest as she pressed up against him.

“Thank you,” Helena whispered into his long black curls.

Once they were near the shore, she slipped from Lance’s back, kicking off her fins as she made her way onto the beach. The Merman followed close behind, waiting for the shift to complete.

Helena ran a hungry eye over him as he stood. He’s perfect.

Long, lean and muscular, his black hair curled around his face, almost glowing in the spring sunshine overhead. She watched as Lance pulled on his cotton shorts that he had abandoned by the shoreline.

“Let’s get to work?” he asked with a gentle smile on his lips.

Helena grinned in return. “Absolutely.”

They made their way into the wooden shed.

Helena and Lance dried themselves, then together lit the lamps, illuminating the dim space.

She submerged the oysters into several wooden buckets of seawater that Lance had hefted up the beach for her.

Helena clamped the first huge oyster into the iron clamp on her workbench and positioned the glass magnifier arm over the top of the lip.

Sliding on her spectacles, she then inserted a flat iron tool in the joins of the oyster’s shell and turned it with a sharp crack, prying the mouth open.

Helena felt Lance watching over her shoulder as she carefully eased a pair of metal tweezers past the narrow opening and into the soft flesh.

She fiddled around inside and eventually fished out a large violet pearl.

“Beautiful,” Lance murmured. His warm breath on her neck gave Helena goosebumps.

She dropped the first pearl into a wooden bowl next to her elbow.

Helena took her tweezers and selected a glass bead from another container behind the clamp.

She pushed it into the oyster’s mouth, embedding it into the flesh.

She had inoculated it so that another pearl would form there in the next year or so.

She unclamped it, placing it into one of the ‘return’ buckets to her right.

Her great aunt had taught her the technique before the elderly woman quit the ocean for good, as a way of harvesting the pearls without killing the oyster.

Lance took up the space beside her, a matching magnifying glass and workstation, assisting her in the harvest and reseeding of the shellfish.

By the time they were done, her fingers ached and her back cramped from having repeated the process again and again.

Eventually, Helena and Lance had twenty beautiful pearls in the bowl between them.

She took off her spectacles and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Her eyes felt strained, and a headache scratched at her temples. “We need to put them back,” she sighed.

“Is it not enough for today?” Lance ventured, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. “They will be alright in the buckets overnight. We could put them back tomorrow when we go out for more… I am guessing there are more?”

“ So many more,” Helena replied. Always more, I must make sure we have enough.

Enough to make sure everyone is taken care of.

She leant her head on his shoulder. Her neck ached from leaning over the intricate work for such a long amount of time.

She glanced down at the freshly inoculated oysters in the overflowing bucket. “Tomorrow.”

Lance knew humans did not have magic of their own, but every time he smelt Rose’s cooking, he questioned whether that was true.

“Good timing!” Rose turned and beamed at Helena and the Merman as they stepped through the kitchen door, both washed and fresh from a well water shower after working at the beach for most of the day.

Her long hair was tied on the top of her head and secured with a braided ribbon, thick strands escaping at the back her neck, and there was a smear of flour on her cheek.

“The brisket has been resting for a while – a present from Willow – and the buns are ready, here,” she said, gesturing to the iron tray covered by a cotton rag on the bench next to her.

Lance’s gaze followed her hand. His mouth watered at the scent, and he licked his lips in anticipation of the meal.

“Let’s eat!” Rose took a deep breath and yelled, “MAX! ZAC!”

Lance recoiled at the noise, which felt like a needle to his ears. His hearing was more sensitive than a human’s, and her shout made his ears ring. He was not going to complain though – the food smelt amazing, and his mouth watered as he breathed it in.

He watched Helena plop down at the wooden table, placing the bowl of twenty pearls next to her. She had dark circles of exhaustion bagging her eyes, and she rubbed the back of her neck with the knuckle of her fist.

I understand. My neck hurts from leaning over so long, too. She works too hard... I don’t know how she does it when I’m not here. He swallowed, guilt prickling him at the duty that kept him away.

“Grab this, Fish Boy,” Rose ordered, snapping him from his thoughts. She handed the tray of warm dinner rolls to him, and he placed them on the table. She then tried to heft the brisket to him.

“Let me, Red.” He took a step towards the stove and lifted the heavy iron tray overflowing with beef. He placed it next to the buns on the table, mouth still watering.

“Thanks.” She turned and faced the hallway, tapping her foot. “Where are they?” she grunted. Rose unwound her apron from her waist and charged off in search of her errant sons.

Lance pulled out a chair. It creaked as he lowered his long frame onto it and sat next to Helena.

Biscuit, who had been lounging beneath the kitchen table, shifted his chunky body to lie directly onto the Merman’s bare feet.

The dog’s wiry fur scratched at his toes as he panted and rested his head back onto the cool tiles.

Helena was still knuckling the back of her neck, and her spectacles had slipped down her nose.

While they waited for Rose to return with the twins, Lance reached out and laid a hand on the aching part of her neck, sore from being arched too long during the pearl harvest. A bright blue glow emanated from where his palm touched her skin.

“Thank you. That feels much better,” Helena sighed.

Lance reached around to the back of his own neck, pressing his fingers into the knot at the base. He felt a flush of magic leave his fingers and let out a huff of relief as the ache dissipated.

“Tomorrow, tell me which grids need to be collected. I’ll go out and bring the oysters back to you. I’ll do it in batches. That way, you can start harvesting and seeding while I bring them in and take them back,” Lance offered, desperate to lighten the physical load for Helena.

He expected her to argue, as she had in past, so surprise surged through him when she dipped her head in agreement.

“Okay, I will let you know what areas. We can get it done a lot more quickly that way. Plus, then I get to see that tail working hard for me.” She waggled her eyebrows at him suggestively.

“Tides-damn, Len. And you call me a flirt?” He chuckled.

“Yes, because you are, shamelessly so.” She pushed up her spectacles and grinned down the hallway.

Lance’s eyes followed her gaze, and he snorted as he saw Rose shepherding her sons to the kitchen table, a scowl on her face.

“They thought it would be funny to hide under my bed,” she huffed as they sat down on either side of her, faces downcast. “Just missing El, aren’t we? It will be good in Portson in a couple of weeks, when we are all back together again.”