Page 60 of Fae Tithe

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.