Page 16 of Fae Tithe

The lights at the tall wooden doors cast the bathhouse in an eerie glow. Large limestone blocks stacked on top of each other formed the square building and the roof was topped with terracotta tiles. Eleanor stepped next to Deon, her eyes drawn to the rattle at his belt. He loosened a thick key and pushed it into the brass lock on the door, turning it with a clunk.

“Where’d you get that?” Eleanor jabbed, “steal it?”

Deon titled his chin down to her, his gaze narrowed. “You know, most humans just do what Fae tell them, it’s you that’s different. I simply told the innkeeper I wanted the key and he gave it to me.” He tugged open the door, the hinges creaking and the light within spilling out.

Eleanor blinked at the sudden illumination, tears stinging at the glare. Before she could recover from the speckles dancing in her vision, Deon tugged on the chain, pulling her inside. Once her eyes had adjusted, she scanned the low-ceilinged room, the walls smooth and whitewashed. Eleanor breathed in the warm steam, chasing the cold air from her lungs.

She continued her study of the bathhouse. There! She spotted a narrow window. No glass, it must be to let out the steam. She blinked. It’s not that small, maybe I could—

“Are you listening?”

Eleanor snapped her focus away from the window and turned to scowl at Deon. “No. What is it?”

Deon let out a long sigh. “I said, you have fifteen minutes in here.” He pulled out his pocket watch and flashed it in front of her face, tapping it with a nail. “Once that’s up, I’m coming in for you.” He shoved the time piece back into his belt.

Eleanor’s gaze dropped to his wrist as he turned his palm up, he tapped the back of his knuckles on his manacle, and it sprang open.

“Give me your hand.” She acquiesced and extended her own wrist. Deon repeated the procedure, freeing her. He gathered the chain and attached it to his belt. “Fifteen minutes,” he repeated before turning his back and stomping his way out of the bathhouse.

Eleanor glowered after the Fae as he slammed the door behind him, turning the lock with a rough click. She rubbed her freed wrist, pain emanating from the raw skin, and turned her attention back to the vent.

This might be my last chance. A delicate bud of hope bloomed in her chest. I think I can fit. She ran her gaze over the room for the third time, running her hand over the smooth white wall, slippery from the steam. A small collection of wooden stools was stacked in the corner. There!

Eleanor dashed over and picked the tallest one, hefting it up. She lugged it to just beneath the window, setting it down as quietly as she could. She took a step up onto it and then another, bracing herself against the wall for balance.

You can do this, El. She took a deep breath, grasping the sill with her fingers, heaving her body upwards.

Eleanor sucked in her breath, heart hammering, as she shoved herself through the small opening. One arm shot through first, she felt the prick of gravel dig into her palms, the loose stones making it difficult for her to find purchase. Eleanor kicked up, her shoes knocking the stool over. A sharp crack rang in her ears as wood met tile.

Faedamn. Panic dried Eleanor’s tongue as she wriggled her body the rest of the way out, squeezing her torso through, followed by flailing legs. She hissed through her teeth as the rough gravel ripped at her uniform, grazing her belly and chest. Did he hear that?

Eleanor rolled onto her back, chest rising and falling in rhythm with thundering pulse. The cold night air stung her scrapes as she forced herself up. The pitch black closed in on her as the crunching steps of gravel met her back.

She sprinted away, blind in the night. Eleanor dared not look behind her, sensing a rushing presence behind her. She managed a few strides before she felt a hand wrap around her hair, yanking her, but catching her before she fell flat on her back. Pain flared through her scalp. She screamed, the sound echoing into the quiet surrounds.

“Little bitch,” Deon spat, “this is why we were bringing you all separately, less chance of this happening. But of course, the captain would get saddled with you for Tithe duty.”

The Fae spun Eleanor around so she met his gaze. Recoiling at his glare, Deon slapped the silver manacle back around her skinny wrist. Tears of frustration streamed down her cheeks at her failure to escape. She gasped a sob as he pulled her away into the night.

“Where are you taking me now?” she wept, trembling as the shock of her recapture left her legs.

“Well, not back to the bathhouse. We’re going straight to the inn,” Deon growled, stomping ahead of her. “You’ll take a meal in the room, chained to me, and sleep. I’ll make sure you’re not out of sight again. Thank fuck we’re handing you over tomorrow, because I’ve had enough of you.”

Late into the following morning, on the fourth day since Eleanor had been taken from Portson, the Seelie Stallions finally slowed their frantic pace. The carriage completely stopped after it passed through the massive gates of the sandstone outer wall of Solas.

“What’s happening?” Eleanor asked as the captain unbolted the inside of the door.

“All carriages, carts, wagons get searched,” he explained as he stepped down. “Come out, or we will be waiting here all day.”

The chain had not been removed since her bathhouse escape. It glinted in the sun, pulling taut as the distance between the pair grew. Eleanor set her jaw, irritation flaring at being ordered around. Her eyes squinted as she stood in the doorway of the compartment, the bright sunshine a stark contrast to the inside. Eleanor leapt, her scuffed shoes landing neatly on the cobblestones. She watched as humans on horses were immediately waved through.

“They are not being searched though?” she pointed out.

The captain scoffed, eyebrow quirked. “Not much danger, are they? Broken down geldings ridden by a pair of humans. Humans are everywhere. If the Solas Guard stopped to search every single one that came in and out, no one would ever get anywhere.”

Eleanor scowled at the captain as she tried to think of a retort, but none came. She instead distracted herself by taking in the city sights in her moment of respite from the stuffy carriage. There was more Fae in Solas then she could have imagined. After spotting more than a dozen, she observed that being tall, lean, and beautiful was a common trait amongst their kind. It also did not escape her notice that all the Fae she saw were men. Each one was surrounded by faerie and human servants rushing to meet their every whim.

Terraced whitewashed apartments lined the noisy streets. Peddlers and stallholders advertised their wares by shouting in Seeliespeak. It was too much for Eleanor. The sound invaded her mind, and she pressed her hands over her ears. The smells were also overwhelming, a mix of ornate perfumes worn by the Fae, food vendors with their pastries, and unwashed bodies of the travellers. The mingled scents made her want to vomit.