Page 45 of Fae Tithe

Helena yanked the dagger from her belt in one swift motion. She drove the blade up beneath the Manor Guard’s golden gauntlet, straight into the soft gap at his elbow. He roared, reeling back, gold spilling between his fingers. The Fae swept down to grapple Helena again, and she fought back like a feral cat. She spat, bit, and scratched. The moves drilled into her by the old Satyr soldier snapped into place like muscle memory. Helena sprang up and slammed her fist into his nose. Cartilage crunched beneath her knuckles.

Gold blood spurted from his face, splashing across the polished curve of his breastplate. He stumbled backwards, slumping into the wallpaper. Helena raised her dagger. She slammed it down into his throat. Bone crunched. He gurgled, choking on his own blood. The guard collapsed beside the Governess, her throat slashed and her body crumpled.

The tang of sea salt hit Helena’s nose. A soaked guard hurtled past and smashed into the wall, Lance’s magic rippling in the air behind him. She did not hesitate. Her blade flashed across the second Fae’s throat, coating the weapon in gold.

She heard a third body drop with a heavy thud. “Three down! Four to go!” Lance shouted from behind her.

The pulse of his magic saturated the air. She tasted sea salt on her tongue as she turned on her heel, dagger ready. A hand grappled her from behind, grabbing and twisting her wrist. Agony drove up her arm, forcing her to drop the dagger.

“Get the fuck off me!” Helena spat.

Flailing, pulling, kicking, the guard still tightened his grip. He glared down at her before brandishing a blade to her throat. The Fae spun them around, and panic hammered her heart into a frenzy. Helena gritted her teeth as her gaze met Lance’s, a flush of shame on her face at her capture.

She watched as Lance gripped his remaining dagger, the other embedded in a dead Fae on the carpet, panic etched on his face. The Merman’s chest rose and fell heavily as Helena was crushed to the breastplate of the guard. Drowned by his towering frame, she strained against his iron grip.

“Faedammit, let me go!” she hissed.

He scoffed down at Helena, nicking her skin with the edge of his blade, pain blooming over her as she grimaced.

“Drop your weapon!” he shouted at the Merman.

Helena’s eyes prickled with tears. “Lance, no!” Agony erupted from her neck as the Fae yanked her head back and made the cut wider.

With her head wrenched back, she heard the dull thud of the Merman’s dagger hitting the carpet. The Fae released her hair, dropping her head.

Helena met Lance’s terrified face, his hands up in surrender, eyes welling with fear.

Helena and Lance were dragged down six sets of the spiralling stairways. The four remaining Manor Guards that escorted them looked as if they were on their death beds, shivering and pale, sweat soaking the red linen under their armour. Helena could not help but smirk at the one who had held a knife to her throat. She had scored a lucky punch on his nose even as he had dragged her down the stairs.

As they had descended the spiral stairs, her captor shifted the knife to Helena’s ribs, keeping Lance in line. He kept it pressed there as they entered the dungeon. She raged at being used as a method of controlling her Merman.

A Fae guard slammed open the door of an empty cell. Helena struggled against the strong arms of her captor as they shoved Lance in. Her stomach twisted as she watched the way they roughly handled him.

“Let him go!” she spat.

The Fae banged the barred door shut behind the Merman, locking it with a wave of magic. With a flick of his hand, he opened the cell next to Lance’s. Helena braced her legs as they tried to shove her in.

“Don’t hurt her!” Lance threw himself against the bars. “I will tide-damn drown you!”

Her captor finally lifted her from her feet, roughly tossing her inside. Her leggings ripped, scraping her skin as she skidded along the stone.

She immediately leapt to her feet and practically hissed at him through the bars. “Give me my daughter.”

The Fae guard with the broken nose sneered at her. “Human filth. You’ll be dealt with soon enough.”

“Like I dealt with you?” Helena bit back.

He shoved his arm through bars to grab her, but she staggered back, catching herself before she fell again. Helena stalked away, seething. She eyed another Fae as he slumped against the bars of the empty cell opposite hers, clutching his stomach. He looked pasty and gave a low groan. Helena studied another who grasped his middle, his pale, sweating face a picture of nausea.

It must be from whatever the kitchen staff gave them. Her lip curled in disgust. It wasn’t enough.

“We need to report this,” the one with the broken nose snarled. He turned his back to Helena and yanked the slumped Fae to his feet. “Let’s go!” he barked at the remaining two Manor Guards.

They filed behind him, boots echoing on the cold stone floor, disappearing up the staircase and out of Helena’s sight. She turned from the bars and saw that her Merman had retreated. Lance sat on the cobblestone floor. His back was flat against the wall at the rear of his cell, chest rising and falling rapidly.

Helena bee-lined for him. The Merman’s long side was pressed into the bars that divided the space between their cells. She sat next to him, awkwardly squeezing her hand through the bars to push his curls from his sweating face.

“Lance?” she asked.