Page 46 of Fae Tithe (The Cursed Courts #1)
E leanor glared down at the King’s corpse, nose wrinkled in disgust. The capillaries in Rian’s face had burst in his death throes, leaving his skin with a gilded hue. His brown eyes were shot through with gold. They were open, lifeless, staring up to the smoky sky.
Eleanor knew he was gone. Relief flooded her as she breathed freely again. There were no more hooks or lines of his magic woven between them.
Mum did it, just like she promised. I’m free. A giddy grin spread across her face.
The crash of armoured boots on cobblestones snatched her attention, and she snapped her head in the direction of the noise.
Her smile was replaced with a furrowed brow. Panic flowed through her. I can’t get caught now!
The smell of charred flesh made her nose wrinkle as she narrowly avoided being seen by the Solas Guards, slipping into a side street as they poured towards the fiery wreckage.
Eleanor peeked around the corner. The score of Solas Guards surrounded the dead King, two dropping to their knees beside him.
She turned, glancing in the direction of Bright Sun. Her ears twitched and, unable to make out the sounds of any other guards coming, she sprinted away from the carnage.
I Faedamn hope Mum is alright. She puffed, sweat soaking her neck as she ran faster than she ever had before. A pang of worry struck her chest. She was really badly hurt… I hope Lance can heal her.
Before she knew it, the inn was in her sights. To the Changeling’s surprise, the Seelie Stallion was waiting for her obediently outside.
“Good boy!” she exclaimed, snapping out her arm as she dashed by, her fingertips lightly grazing over his soft muzzle.
The Changeling slammed through the door and made her way up the staircase two steps at a time, feeling the sting of her nails in her palms as she clenched her fists.
Please by alright. Please be alright. Dread thrummed through her body with every pound of her heart.
Eleanor barged into the bedroom, her stomach dropping at the sight of Lance’s tears and Helena’s pale body on the bed.
The Changeling’s breath hitched as she surged forwards, the whole room shaking with the resonance of Lance’s sobs.
She dropped to her knees next to him. Eleanor reached out and clasped her mother’s limp wrist. Helena felt cold to the touch.
No. She felt the prickling of tears. It can’t be. She can’t be…
The Changeling gently brushed her fingertips over the Merman’s elbow with her free hand.
“Lance?” Eleanor croaked.
He removed the hand pouring his healing magic into Helena’s heart and threw it around Eleanor’s shoulders.
She allowed herself to be held as reality hit her.
Her mother was gone. Helena had given her life to make sure she was free from the Seelie King.
Eleanor pressed her wet cheek onto Lance’s shoulder, crushed into a hug by her father figure, and together they wept.
Even with one eye, the view was amazing.
Muspelheim had ashen, charcoal fields as far as Helena could see.
Balls of fire erupted from mountains on the horizon, and there was swirling, scarlet sky above her, accented with drifting clouds of crimson.
It did not escape Helena’s notice that the landscape writhed with rocky life.
She studied the surging mass of Surts as they moved quickly across the landscape.
Atlas was faster. He was also magnificent.
The Dragon’s shoulders were broad and obsidian, his muscles rippling powerfully with every near-silent step.
His mammoth wings were tucked neatly against the massive length of his back and halfway down his long, serpentine tail that ended in a long-serrated triangle point.
Despite not being able to fly, he cut through the rocky, ashen landscape like a fish through water and outpaced the surging Surts following him.
Helena studied the Surts from her vantage point high up on the Dragon’s neck.
Though most of them reached his shoulder, the smallest reached his knee.
Atlas had spoken of there being one larger than him, but it was nowhere to be seen, yet.
Each of the creatures ran on all fours. A central fiery boulder made up their bodies, the black rock cracked through with wide orange lines.
The round boulder body was held aloft by four spindly legs, smaller boulders making up the limbs.
The arched back sloped down to the shorter rear legs, the resulting awkward gallop reminiscent of the faltering gait of a newborn foal.
I could get used to having a view, Helena mused, peering over Atlas’s horns.
Imagine if you could fly. I miss it, the Dragon rumbled wistfully in response.
After days, maybe weeks, of travelling towards Lance’s blue beacon, Helena had given up on speaking aloud.
Atlas already heard what she was going to say before she even said it.
Besides, her mouth was so dry and her throat so parched, Helena did not know if she could speak.
She did not even know how she was still alive.
Grievous injuries, hunger, and thirst racked her body, but Helena remained.
She had endured what felt like weeks of this, and she still remained.
What do the Surts eat? Helena asked. What do you eat?
I believe that the Surts do not need to eat, that they are fuelled by the heat of this world.
When I was bound to Theo and his descendants, the chain between us fed my body here and fed them my magic in Midgard, Atlas replied to her second question.
It is your body back in Seelieland that feeds me here now.
If your body dies in Seelieland, I do not know how long we will survive here.
The Dragon lowered his head abruptly. Helena banged her temple on the tall horn next to her and felt her head spin.
“Ow!” Helena yelped. “What the…?”
I apologise. We have company.
She squinted down as Atlas opened his maw and roared at the foolish Surt who blocked his path. The creature’s back was littered with red glowing crystals, and she could not be sure, but there seemed to be no face or mouth at all.
Be careful, Atlas! Helena warned.
Searing, liquid fire erupted from the Dragon’s maw.
Helena flinched back, hissing in pain as her cheeks blistered all over again.
When Helena felt the air around her cool slightly, she dared to crack her eye open.
She peered over the edge of the Dragon’s head as he strode past the Surt.
It had melted. All that was left of the creature was a bubbling slag.
Helena slumped backward in shock into the scaly hollow she had been resting in.
That’s the Dragon Flame, then? she asked.
Atlas growl laughed in his chest. Hardly. That is barely a hint of my capabilities. That foolish Surt would not move, and I do not like how your Siren’s light is dimming and flickering. We need to move as quickly as possible.
He’ll be weakening, Helena admitted. Lance has been so far from the sea for so long, barely sleeping, and probably needing water.
Your Siren reached between the worlds, the Dragon pondered. He loves you so much he did that for you. I never had a chance to find a mate and create offspring. You are very lucky, Len.
Helena smiled. I am lucky. I am fortunate to be so loved.
They are also lucky and fortunate to have you.
When I first saw the pieces of your memories…
well, you are the centre which binds them all together.
Atlas sent a warm feeling down the thickened thread between them.
You are like their sun, and you cast them in your warmth.
You brought them all together and drew your Circle around them.
Helena sent the image of a hug back down the link, and she could have sworn that she felt the Dragon purr in response, the resonance vibrating her bones. Are you a Dragon or a house cat? she teased.
What is a house cat? Atlas asked.
She chuckled in her desert-dry throat and sent forth an image of an orange cat, fluffy and fat, curled up on a cushion. The feline was purring contentedly in the vision.
Then yes, I am a very magnificent, intelligent, scaly house cat, the Dragon agreed.
Helena could not help herself. She opened her cracked lips and laughed. The delight hurt. Her blistered skin stretched as she guffawed loudly into the hazy, scarlet air. She even felt a tear of joy trickle down her blistered cheek as she closed her eye.
Helena’s giggling slowed and finally stopped.
She clutched her middle. Her core hurt from the laughter, as her muscles had lost their strength in her days riding on the back of the Dragon’s head.
She opened her eye and wiped the tear away, before it widened in shock at the movement in her periphery.
Atlas! Look out! she cried down the bond.
The Dragon began to turn just as a colossal Surt slammed into his side, sending him sprawling. Helena clutched onto his horn for dear life.