Page 29 of Fae Tithe (The Cursed Courts #1)

H elena and Lance were dragged down six sets of the spiralling stairways.

The four remaining Manor Guards that escorted them looked as if they were on their death beds, shivering and pale, sweat soaking the red linen under their armour.

Helena could not help but smirk at the one who had held a knife to her throat.

She had scored a lucky punch on his nose even as he had dragged her down the stairs.

As they had descended the spiral stairs, her captor shifted the knife to Helena’s ribs, keeping Lance in line. He kept it pressed there as they entered the dungeon. She raged at being used as a method of controlling her Merman.

A Fae guard slammed open the door of an empty cell. Helena struggled against the strong arms of her captor as they shoved Lance in. Her stomach twisted as she watched the way they roughly handled him.

“Let him go!” she spat.

The Fae banged the barred door shut behind the Merman, locking it with a wave of magic. With a flick of his hand, he opened the cell next to Lance’s. Helena braced her legs as they tried to shove her in.

“Don’t hurt her!” Lance threw himself against the bars. “I will tide-damn drown you!”

Her captor finally lifted her from her feet, roughly tossing her inside. Her leggings ripped, scraping her skin as she skidded along the stone.

She immediately leapt to her feet and practically hissed at him through the bars. “Give me my daughter.”

The Fae guard with the broken nose sneered at her. “Human filth. You’ll be dealt with soon enough.”

“Like I dealt with you?” Helena bit back.

He shoved his arm through bars to grab her, but she staggered back, catching herself before she fell again.

Helena stalked away, seething. She eyed another Fae as he slumped against the bars of the empty cell opposite hers, clutching his stomach.

He looked pasty and gave a low groan. Helena studied another who grasped his middle, his pale, sweating face a picture of nausea.

It must be from whatever the kitchen staff gave them. Her lip curled in disgust. It wasn’t enough.

“We need to report this,” the one with the broken nose snarled. He turned his back to Helena and yanked the slumped Fae to his feet. “Let’s go!” he barked at the remaining two Manor Guards.

They filed behind him, boots echoing on the cold stone floor, disappearing up the staircase and out of Helena’s sight.

She turned from the bars and saw that her Merman had retreated.

Lance sat on the cobblestone floor. His back was flat against the wall at the rear of his cell, chest rising and falling rapidly.

Helena bee-lined for him. The Merman’s long side was pressed into the bars that divided the space between their cells. She sat next to him, awkwardly squeezing her hand through the bars to push his curls from his sweating face.

“Lance?” she asked.

His eyes focused on the bleeding scratch on Helena’s neck, widening as he tracked the red pathway blooming on the collar of her white blouse.

“I almost lost you. That wasn’t supposed to happen, Len,” he panted.

“Whatever they gave the guards… I think it must have started to wear off by the time they got to us. I saw one of them collapse down here. We were just too slow,” she growled. Her head pounded, and she winced, pressing the heel of her hand to her temple.

“Yes,” Lance agreed. “They were still ill. I could smell something odd on their sweat, and I think they struggled to fight us.” He swallowed. “I am sorry. If I was faster, you wouldn’t—”

“Don’t say sorry. I am the one who was caught,” she reassured, her arm still pinched through bars.

She cupped his cheek and tilted his face towards hers.

“I am the one who fucked up,” she admitted, voice cracking, tears flowing down her dirty cheeks and onto her bloody neck. I am the one who can’t fix the Circle.

They breathed together, eyes on each other, for several minutes. Helena’s heart rate lowered, allowing the panic to ebb so she could think.

She squinted at the door to her cell as she held Lance’s hand through the bars. “Do you have much magic left?”

The Merman closed his eyes for a moment. “…No.”

Helena pulled herself up, sore and aching from the fight. “Could you try…?” She limped over to the front of her cell and pointed through the bars to the door of Lance’s cell. “Maybe if you fill it with water, I don’t know… it might loosen.”

Lance nodded and wobbled to his feet, taking two long strides across the space. Conjuring a small ball of water, he closed his eyes as he pushed it into the lock. Helena watched, holding her breath, as her Merman’s fingers twitched.

Lance eventually opened his eyes, gave a wave of his hand, and the water spilled out. He gripped at the handle and wrenched. Disappointment flooded Helena as it held fast.

The Merman shook his head, lips tugged downwards. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded. “It’s alright.”

Helena fished around in her boot, pulling out her shucking knife.

So arrogant, they didn’t even search me before throwing us in here.

She tried to shove the tip of her small blade in the lock, but it merely bounced off, again and again.

“It won’t even go in,” she growled, tucking the knife way again.

“I think… a lot of the objects here are enchanted with Fae magic,” Lance suggested, raking his fingers through his hair. “It might only work for them.”

Helena huffed through her nose. “Of course it does! Why didn’t they just kill us?”

“Arrogance...” The Merman shrugged. “Entertainment. I suppose if you live a really long time, anything for a diversion. Who knows?”

Helena rubbed her temples, her pounding head intensifying its tempo with every passing minute. “Faedammit, I hope El is alright.” She stomped her way to the back of her cell, settling herself against the cold wall.

Lance followed her, seating himself next to her, his body pressed against the bars that separated them. “Me too.” He laced his fingers with hers through the gaps.

Helena's head swam as they took turns suggesting escape plans, only to have them discarded one after the other, as each became wilder and more dangerous, not only to them but to Eleanor.

Both even tried their locks and doors repeatedly, trying to find a non-existent weakness.

Helena had no semblance of time, but felt the hours drag, sensing it must be at least mid-morning.

Her eyelids eventually weighed heavy, and her chin fell to her chest.

Helena snapped her head up from her dozing.

She squinted down the dimly lit dungeon at the sound of several heavy footfalls on the cobbled flooring.

There was eight Fae, all in matching Manor Guard uniforms, a rose etched onto each breastplate.

They squeezed into the narrow corridor and stood in front of their cells.

One unlocked the bolt of the door with a flick of his hand and stepped through. A second Fae followed right behind him.

Helena leapt to her feet and scowled. In her periphery, she saw Lance shoot up into a fighting stance. “What do you want?” she spat.

The two Fae made their way over to her, cornering Helena in the cell.

“Get away from her!” Lance warned through the bars, a floating orb of water hovering in his hand.

The Manor Guard closest to her raised his hands, palms facing Helena. “You wanted to see your daughter, right? Eleanor? It’s been arranged.”

“Arranged?” Helena furrowed her brow suspiciously. What does he mean? This seems too easy.

“Yes. Arranged.” The Fae turned his head to Lance, eyes narrowing at the Merman through the bars. “Dispel that magic now, or we won’t take you. Do I have to manacle you two, or will you behave? I would prefer not to. The Seelie Court find chains distasteful, even on prisoners.”

Helena turned her head to Lance and gave him a nod. He waved his fingers, his water orb dissolving back into the air.

“We will behave. No chains necessary,” she promised, with no intention of keeping it.

They made their way up and out of the dungeons, flanked by four Manor Guards each. They were all shorter than Lance, but well-armed, with their eyes focused on the movements of pair. Helena lost her bearings as they wove through Tithe Manor.

“This feels too easy, Lance. Why would they just take us to her?” Helena hissed as they made their way up another winding staircase.

“It is too easy,” the Merman whispered, glancing at their surroundings. “The Seelie Court loves their amusement.”

She narrowed her gaze, suspicious at Lance’s comment. “How do you know—”

“Shut up!” one of the guards barked, stopping them in front of a set of huge red double doors. It was framed by ornate rose vine carvings, with two large dragon-head doorknobs at the centre. Two of the Fae guards stepped forward, pulling open a door each.

Helena took in nothing else as she was ushered into the huge circular room. Her eyes raked over the figure that stood in the centre.

“Eleanor!” she shouted, breaking into a sprint over to her daughter, her heart pounding with relief.

Eleanor turned to Helena. She was resplendent in a pastel pink dress decorated with tiny chips of rubies and pearls sewn into the silk. On her slender neck, she wore a wide gold choker necklace, embedded with rubies the size of hen’s eggs.

“Mum!” she cried, dashing towards her mother.

Helena was quickly blocked by the mountainous Manor Guard who had first entered her cell. Rage spiked within her at the Fae who blocked her way.

“Move,” she growled upwards, eyes boring into his.

The Fae responded by placing his hand on the hilt of his short sword. sheathed at his lean waist, and glowering down at her.

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” Helena peered around the guard, ignoring his threatening stance. She took in the sight of her daughter properly, her eyes widening in shock at the change in Eleanor. What happened to her? What did they do to her?

“What a heart-warming reunion.” A honeyed voice purred behind her, interrupting her appraisal of her daughter.