Page 30 of Fae Tithe (The Cursed Courts #1)

Helena spun and looked up. On a half-circle dais, raised above them and smirking down, sat six Seelie Fae, each on a grand golden throne.

The voice came from the Fae man in the centre.

His throne loomed above the others, broader, gilded, and carved with Dragons that shimmered.

A crown, sharp and brilliant, caught every glimmer of the floating Fae lights as it rested on his white-blonde hair.

Helena’s breath hitched. She knew that face.

It was the same one she had seen in the portrait on every trip to and from Portson Finishing School for Girls, bejewelling the foyer with its presence.

Her spine stiffened. Instinct urged her to bow, to drop her gaze, to kneel.

Helena stayed still. The air crackled around the dais, thick with power that made her skin prickle.

The Seelie King watched her, amusement dancing in his eyes, a smirk on his perfect lips.

What’s so funny? Helena scowled. Is Lance right? Are we just entertainment? Fighting the urge to subjugate herself, she lifted her chin, meeting the King’s gaze and holding it.

“What did you do?” Helena bit.

The Seelie King continued smirking down at her, studying her dirty, bloody form.

“Mrs Neycur, I can see where my dearest Eleanor gets her fire from. I understand you are quite upset, so this time I will ignore your rudeness. I would remind you that I am your King, and you should address me with deference. I am, however, very glad you are here. I wanted to find you.”

Helena saw Lance in her periphery. He tried to move towards her, but the Merman was blocked by the guards.

“Find me? Why?” she asked, a line deepening between her eyebrows as she frowned.

Rian folded his jewelled hands in his huge lap.

“Many reasons, Mrs Neycur. Firstly, to meet my future Mother-in-Law. Secondly, to pay the Bride Price, as is a custom amongst humans, and to compliment you on raising such a fine young lady.” His gaze flickered from Helena to Eleanor. “The potion has improved her though.”

“He made me do it, Mum,” Eleanor shouted, her voice cracking with outrage. “I didn’t want to. I didn’t know what he was doing. He changed me!”

Helena’s thoughts scattered, fragments slipping through her grasp. Her ears roared with a rush of blood, her pulse hammering in her throat. She jerked her gaze back to the King looming above her on his raised throne.

“You have no right!” she snarled. “Stealing little girls and changing them. Disgusting!”

“I have every right,” Rian clipped, his eyes narrowing.

“There is nothing disgusting in it. She is my claim from the Tithe, a tradition of the Fae nearly as old as Seelieland itself. Your daughter is to be the next Queen. Currently, it is my preference to have no conflict with you, Mrs Neycur, as it would distress my Eleanor. It is my desire to pay the Bride Price in compensation for your daughter. You would live in comfort for the rest of your short human life, and she would live a very long life in luxury with me. Think of it… your grandchildren would be princes.”

“Compensate?! Grandchildren?! ” she roared.

Something snapped. Rage surged within her, white-hot and all-consuming. Helena bolted, hand twitching toward the blade in her boot, her eyes locked on the King’s throat.

One step. Two. Three.

A blur of armour beside her, then iron fingers crushed her arm and wrenched her sideways.

She hit the tiles hard. Her skull cracked against the stone, pain lancing through her vision. The world tilted. Her ears rang like a bell.

“No!” she heard Lance yell over a muffled fight behind her.

Helena’s head spun. She squinted through the armoured legs of the Manor Guard who had thrown her down.

She saw Fae being shoved as Lance tried to push his way through, nearly reaching her.

Helena could feel something else magical crackling in the room, not from the observing Seelies, making the hairs on her arms rise.

It was a power she had felt from the Merman before, but not as strong as this.

“You think there is anything ? Anything you could give?” Helena bristled as she staggered to her feet, the room tilting sickeningly as she regained her balance. “I will kill you for this,” she promised, wiping blood from her forehead.

For a heartbeat, the room stilled.

His hazel eyes flashing with scorn, a blonde-haired Seelie Lord let a gasp. “You… you just directly threatened the King, in front of the rest of the Seelie Lords.”

“I did.” Helena lifted her chin in defiance.

Blood ran down her face and dripped loudly onto the tiles at her boots. Rage left her limbs trembling, and she hoped they did not think it was fear that made her shake.

“Mum, please! Stop,” Eleanor choked out. She took several steps forward. “Please, Your Grace. I will come with you. I won’t fight. I won’t argue. Just, please, let them go.”

“A direct threat to His Grace is considered the most grievous of crimes in Seelieland. It is punishable by immediate execution,” the Seelie Lord in green intoned. He gestured with a wave of his hand to the Fae guard who had knocked Helena to the floor.

The guard drew his sword from his hip.

“No!” Eleanor screamed, diving in the way of the blade.

Helena shoved her back.

“ENOUGH!”

A tidal blast of water exploded across the chamber.

It hit with a brutal force, a roaring wall that shoved every Fae around Lance off their feet.

Helena threw up an arm against the spray, staggering back as soaked bodies slammed into the blood-red walls with bone-jarring cracks.

The guard above her froze for a moment, blade raised, eyes flicking towards the chaos.

It was enough.

Helena surged forward, ducking beneath the arc of his sword. She rammed her shoulder into his chest, feeling the impact jolt through her bones. Her hand shot up and knocked the blade from his grasp. It clattered across the tiles.

He reeled backwards, tripping over his own boots, crashing to the floor. His jaw hung open, stunned.

Helena was already moving.

She spun, seized her daughter’s wrist, and yanked her to her feet. They ran as another blast of magic cracked through the air. She did not look back. She dragged her daughter with her, straight to where Lance stood, water dripping from his outstretched hands.

“Are the guards dead?” she bit out.

“Not all of them,” he grunted.

He lifted his hand. Water blossomed from his palm and spread, creating a protective dome of water. The Merman dropped his hand and clenched it into a fist. His condition did not escape Helena’s notice. His chest heaved and his limbs trembled, dark circles surrounding his eyes.

Lance gave her a firm nod, before turning his attention to the Seelie Court.