Page 49 of Fae Tithe (The Cursed Courts #1)

L ance removed his hands from Helena’s legs.

“Try that, sweetheart,” he said, shifting back on his knees, moving away from the bed to give her room to place her booted feet on the worn-out rug.

For the love of the sea, please let that be enough. I don’t have much more in me.

The High Prince watched as Helena pushed herself up from the bloodied sheets. She stood for a moment and wobbled a little. Lance shot up and caught her in his arms before she fell.

“Thanks,” Helena murmured into his chest.

“I’ve got you,” the Merman reassured, looking down at her and brushing loose strands of hair from her eyes.

She looked up through her eyelashes at Lance.

“Can I kiss you? I know I must look awful right now, but—”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he blurted out, studying the burns all over her skin.

“Please?” she asked. “I need to… I need to feel like I’m really here.”

“You’ll tell me if it hurts? Promise?” Lance insisted before touching her further.

Helena nodded in agreement.

The Merman wrapped his arm around the small of her back and softly cupped her peeling cheek.

He knew he had to be gentle. He pressed his lips to hers softly.

Helena opened up to him and let his tongue explore hers.

He lightly stroked the inside of her mouth.

Lance felt the heat between them building, excitement coiling in his belly.

He shifted his hand up the small of her back and into her hair as their kissed deepened, gently massaging her scalp.

Helena sighed against him, and he finally broke their caress before they got too carried away.

“I missed you,” she breathed, laying her blistered temple gently against his excited heart.

“Missed me?” Lance chuckled. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

“I… haven’t. I felt like I’ve been gone for weeks, not here,” Helena spoke into his shirt, gripping the fabric beneath her fists.

The High Prince let their tender moment last slightly longer before he shifted, looking down at her red welted face.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted. “We will talk about it, though. Eleanor has been sorting out a cart for us. We should go find her, finally get out of this tides-damn city.”

Lance shepherded Helena to the armchair, where she sat while he dashed around the room.

He threw their few clothes and possessions into cloth sacks and saddlebags.

He loaded them onto his shoulders, before gently helping Helena back to her feet.

The High Prince helped her shuffle over to the door and out into the hallway.

He watched as Helena went to take a step down the wooden staircase.

“Absolutely not,” Lance growled, placing a gentle hand on the crook of her elbow.

“What?” She turned and glared up at him.

“I’m pretty sure you just died. Or were dying? Or came back from another world? I don’t even know. I know one thing though: you are not climbing down those stairs when you can barely walk,” the Merman replied firmly as he adjusted the bags on his shoulders.

“Then how—”

“Now, don’t argue with me about helping you.” Lance swept her up into his arms and she let out a squeak of surprise. “I know how you love to argue. Especially if it’s me you’re doing it with,” he teased.

“I’ll be good,” she conceded.

Lance clutched Helena to his chest, one forearm under her knees and the other secured around her shoulders.

The Merman felt her soften into him as she surrendered.

Despite their situation, he loved to hold her close like this.

He tried not to squeeze her too tightly, very aware that despite his healing efforts, she would still be in pain.

His long legs ate up the wooden steps beneath his boots as he rushed down the stairs and exited Bright Sun Inn.

The High Prince blinked as he stepped into the dawn light. A smile spread across his face as he saw Eleanor standing on the driver’s seat of a battered wooden cart. It was hitched, to his surprise, not to the two horses he and Helena arrived on in Solas, but to the Seelie Stallion.

“He’s faster,” Eleanor explained with a shrug.

Lance watched as her ears twitched and she turned her head down the street. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on what she heard. His sensitive hearing detected the noise of dozens of booted feet on cobblestones and the scrape of armour.

“You did a great job, El. We need to get out of Solas now ,” said Lance.

The Merman rounded the cart and gently lowered Helena into it, placing the bags around her to prop her up. He was about to hop onto the wooden bench at the front when Eleanor beat him to it, dropping swiftly from her standing position and seating herself firmly.

“You’re sure?” he asked, tilting his head in concern at his daughter. “He’s huge and might be difficult to control.”

“I’ve got this.” She jutted her chin out confidently. “I probably have more experience with this than you. Plus, Goliath listens to me.”

“Goliath?” Helena asked, turning her head and raising an eyebrow at her daughter.

“That’s what I’ve called him,” Eleanor replied, nodding towards the black horse in front of her, taking the reins. “He likes it.”

“Follow this wider road and then take the third right,” the High Prince instructed, his impeccable memory for direction guiding him.

“Got it!” She turned back to the stallion and clicked her tongue. “Let’s get going.”

Lance squeezed himself in next to Helena and smiled down at her.

He exhaled through his nostrils, the tension uncoiling from his belly.

The cart lurched forward as the stallion eased into a trot, and he tugged Helena back upright before her head slammed into the wood.

Lance tucked her under his arm, wrapping her to his side.

He watched as her eyelids closed and her breathing evened out.

She must be exhausted. He squeezed Helena a little closer.

The Merman felt the cart rattle into a faster movement. The four wheels bounced over the cobblestones, the hovelled houses flashing by.

“DAD!” Eleanor screamed.

The High Prince turned, eyes widening in terror. He unravelled his arm from Helena, leaping to his feet, but careful not to step on her.

“Fuck!” Lance spat, gritting his teeth. We took too long to leave Solas!

The massive Western Gate had been barred shut and the portcullis thrown down. Lance sensed a ward was in place, just like the one that encircled Tithe Manor. The enchantment was woven into the walls, gates, and portcullises of the city.

No, no, no. Panic clawed at his throat.

It was impossible to get in or out of Solas. The city’s ward completely encased the Capital under its protective dome. Dozens of Fae guards lined the Western Gate, swords and spears ready, as the horse and cart hurtled towards it.