Page 38 of Fae Tithe (The Cursed Courts #1)

T he night after her family’s meeting with Declan, Eleanor slumbered fitfully, Rian haunting her nightmares again.

“Leave me alone,” Eleanor growled up at the Seelie King. I can’t let him know anything. I need to make sure he doesn’t figure out what they’re planning. The Changeling clenched her jaw.

The Seelie King, with a snap of his fingers, changed her from her night clothes to a pastel pink gown.

The silk made her skin prickle, the memory of her wardrobe from Tithe Manor flashing across her mind.

She shifted uneasily, the gentle clink of the rubies stitched onto the garment echoing in her ears.

Rian had steered her nightmare to the grandest bedroom she had ever seen.

Outrageous in its dimensions, it was at least twice the floor space of the entire villa, illuminated by floating Fae Lights.

The golden carpet beneath her silk slippers was soft.

Everything in the room was gilded, accented with scarlet.

In the centre stood a behemoth four-poster bed, large enough to sleep a dozen people, piled high with plush pillows, a black Dragon embroidered on the goose down quilt.

Eleanor flared her nostrils. A stench of ash and roses turned her stomach.

“I will never leave you alone, dearest,” Rian purred down at her.

He stood in front of Eleanor, his mountainous figure dwarfing her, just a stride away.

The Seelie King wore a long red robe, Dragon-head buttons open, revealing a loose white shirt underneath.

It was untucked, and his golden trousers were a relaxed fit against his long legs.

On his feet were red silk slippers. There was no crown upon his head.

Is he in his night clothes? Yuck! Eleanor wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Why are you in my head again? Where is this place?"

“I missed you, Eleanor, so I decided I would visit.” He wore a bemused expression, stepping back. He spread his arm in an arc. “This is my bedroom in the Seelie Court Palace, soon to be our bedroom. That is, when you come back to me.”

“Why would I come back to you?” Eleanor bit.

Rian smirked, eyes flaring red. “Because you are mine, my Queen and mother to my future sons.”

The Changeling’s stomach lurched, bile catching in her throat at the thought. “I’m not yours.”

“Oh, dearest.” The Seelie King chuckled and waved his perfectly manicured hand in her direction.

Pain erupted across Eleanor’s chest and forehead. She leant forward, grasping her chest, squeezing her eyes shut in shock. “Ow!” Tears leaked. “Stop! You say I’m your dearest, that you want me… but then you hurt me. Why?” She opened her eyes again, gaze meeting the King’s.

“So you will learn that you belong to me. I will break that strong will of yours, and I shall enjoy doing it,” he promised, a soft, taunting smile playing on his lips.

I’m just a toy to him. Eleanor scratched her nails across her forehead, the tug of invisible hooks in her skin setting her teeth on edge. “Don’t you have something better to do? Like, you know, run a Kingdom?” she challenged. “Instead of chasing a teenage girl?”

“Be careful,” the Seelie King warned, a line between his eyebrows. “I find you amusing, but do not push your luck. Running my Kingdom is why our reunification is being delayed. I must go to Archipelago of Sol. Unless…” He tilted his head to the side, a smug expression on his face.

Eleanor’s heart hammered, fear numbing her limbs under his gaze. “Unless…?”

“You come back to me. I will have your own carriage arranged, and we would spend our evenings together,” Rian purred.

“Why, we could talk about the wedding. How lovely that would be! I have a vision, you see. In the gardens of the Seelie Court Palace, we would walk down the aisle together, the ribbon tied between our wrists. You would be a vision in white, trimmed in gold lace.”

“I’m not marrying you,” Eleanor retorted.

“Oh, darling. Yes, you are.” The Seelie King’s eyes flared red.

He waved a hand in Eleanor’s direction. A fiery, twisting line erupted from his chest. Horror seized her as it crossed the space between them in a blink. She stumbled back as it slammed into her chest. She fell heavily onto her rear, pain erupting up her spine with a jolt.

The Changeling turned her shaking gaze up to him. The thread between them wove into her chest, compelling her to stand again. She opened her mouth to retort, to demand him to release her, but no sound came. Her voice stolen as the Seelie King smirked down at her.

“I am still at Tithe Manor. Come to me,” he ordered.

The smallest of squeaks left her lips, unable to say more. The fiery cord worked its way to her neck and, taking control of her head, forced her to nod.

Rian’s lip quirked upwards. “I will see you very soon.”

He snapped his fingers. The King and the room dissolved.

Eleanor’s eyelids flew open.

The bed was lumpy beneath her, the room dark besides the dim illumination of the streetlamp filtering through the curtain.

Eleanor opened her lips to scream. Help me!

Her voice was silent.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, dampening the sheets beneath her. A ball of fire tangled in her chest, setting her skin aflame with an ache.

An ache to go back to the King.

No. I won’t!

She opened and closed her mouth again.

Eleanor turned her head, eyeing the sleeping form of her mother next to her. Swinging her head the other way, terror thundering her heart, she saw Lance sleeping in the chair, head lolled back and mouth open as he snored.

The fiery cord shot down her legs.

In a blur, Eleanor was on her feet, chest heaving in terror, barely able to fill her lungs with enough air. Tears stung her eyes as they freely fell. She opened to her mouth to scream, but only the quietest of whines left her mouth.

A command made her take a step.

Then another.

And a third.

Eleanor’s hand reached for the doorknob.

The Changeling’s head would not turn, her neck now stuck straight, but her gaze darted to Lance. The Merman was snoring loudly in the chair.

Wake up! Eleanor pleaded with her eyes.

Her burning fingers gripped the handle. Opening the creaking door, a blade of light cut into the dark bedroom from the illuminated corridor. Her stomach fluttered with fragile hope as Lance’s snoring stopped.

In her periphery, Eleanor watched as his eyes flickered open, and he yawned loudly. The Merman peered blearily up at her through drooping eyelids, blinking twice before fully snapping awake with a shake of his head.

“El!” Lance cried out, springing to his feet. “Where are you going? What’s wrong?” He gripped her shoulders and peered around her. “Len!”

The High Prince focused his gaze back on Eleanor’s. “Is it the King?”

Yes! Eleanor could not nod her head, but she blinked several times in answer.

From behind, the Changeling heard her mother’s steps.

“What’s happening?” Helena asked, her tone panicked.

“The King,” Lance replied, talking over Eleanor’s shoulder. He snapped his gaze back to her. “I’m going to cast a ward over us. Hopefully it will be enough.”

Eleanor’s eyes tracked his movements. His elbow crooked so he did not brush the ceiling, the High Prince turned his shaking hand upwards.

The ward bloomed from his palm, surrounding the three in its protective waters.

Helena placed a comforting hand on Eleanor’s shoulder, and she wished she could lean into the touch.

“It’s alright, El,” Helena reassured, “Lance will drive him back again.”

I’m not sure about that. Eleanor studied the ward as it faltered and flickered. Her gaze dropped to the High Prince’s face. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and his jaw clenched with effort. He doesn’t look good.

Then, the fiery thread was gone.

She could breathe again. Eleanor filled her constricted lungs.

All the fuelling fire from the burning thread had retreated.

The Changeling fell back as the foreign propulsion left her legs.

Panic flew through Eleanor as she failed to find her feet.

Helena’s hands snapped out, catching the Changeling’s upper arms in a bruising grip.

Eleanor winced as she steadied herself against Helena.

“I’ve got you. It’s alright,” her mother reassured.

The Changeling let out a sob, her hands trembling with shock. She pressed her forehead into her mother’s cheek. Helena crushed Eleanor into a comforting hug.

“He… he nearly… got me to go back to the Manor,” she heaved, soaking her mother’s shirt with her tears. “He… he… wanted me to travel with him to Archipelago.”

Lance, dropping his arm and dissipating the ward, gave Eleanor’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “He will never get you back, I promise.”