Page 63 of Fae Tithe

Declan led them through. Helena, near-blind in the dark, stuck close to his side. Unease prickled goosebumps up her arms, sensing others around them.

“Who else is here?” she whispered.

“Faeries, Half-bloods, humans… they sleep here if they have nowhere else to go, if they can’t work, if they aren’t considered useful,” he replied, voice low.

Helena swallowed, a pang of sympathy in her chest. El, Lance, Rose, Max, and Zac… we all have each other. These people have no one.

Declan eventually led Helena into the familiar lane where he had first met her. “I’ll be leaving you here.”

“What? You’re going?” Helena asked, her eyes meeting his and narrowing.

“I’ve five other people to help tonight,” he explained, a muscle feathering in his jaw as he stared back.

Helena exhaled heavily through her nose. “Fine. How will I know which carriage is his?”

“The King’s carriage is gold and red. It’s modelled after a dragon. The doors of it will be shaped like wings, and it will be pulled by two huge black stallions,” the Half-blood explained. “You wait until the Dragon Carriage leaves Tithe Manor’s ward. The Wisp magic won’t work through it. Remember, you must be close, no more than five carriage-lengths away.”

“How do you know that?” Helena asked.

Declan smirked. “I hear a lot, remember?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know, if you didn’t put on such a cocksure attitude, you might actually be likeable. Imagine that.”

Declan scoffed at her jab. “He will be leaving last.” He turned to leave, tossing his head over his shoulder. “The others will be waiting for your Wisp coin to ignite before they set theirs off.”

Helena waited, watching him disappear into the night. Placing a hand on her chest, she took a deep breath, trying to slow her racing heart.

You can do this. She nodded, before striking out into the night alone.

The manor was only a short distance from her now. On the remaining quick march through the streets, she stuck to the shadow of the terraced buildings, avoiding the obvious glow of the lamplight.

Then, there it was. Tithe Manor.

Studying the gaudy building, Helena put her hair back in a low bun and fiddled with the Wisp coin in her pocket. She had eyes on the manor’s gardens from her position, the floating orbs dimly illuminating the vibrant green of the grass and briars.

She watched as two other carriages departed. None belonged to the King. “Under an hour? Faedammit!” Helena snarled to herself.

Her strong legs began to cramp from standing so long. She took to stepping from foot to foot to help ease the ache. Helena took long, deep breaths to ease the pounding in her ears and thundering heart rate. She did not know how much longer she could stand the tension. She also knew she could not bear it if she let the King get away. Helena had to try. She did not know which was more terrifying: what would happen if she did succeed in killing the King, or what would happen if she did not. The two young men, Declan and Simon, were both right. She stood on the precipice of changing everything, and the only reason she chose to do it was to save her daughter from the Seelie King.

In the dim light of the floating orbs illuminating the pristine gardens, Helena saw a flash of glossy black, red, and shimmering gold. It was time for her to take the leap.

“That’s it,” she hissed.

The black stallions that pulled the carriage were huge, just like Declan had said. The vehicle was vaguely dragon-shaped and gaudily gilded. It shimmered in the night, drawing Helena’s attention like a moth to flame. The doors of it looked like folded wings. Driving the carriage, seated on top, were two Fae guards.

“Faedammit,” she grunted as she saw how fast the stallions were merely trotting through the sprawling gardens. I will have to do this quickly.

Helena watched with bated breath as the King’s carriage slowed before the warded gate, its wheels crunching softly on the gravel path. The stallions, sleek and powerful, halted obediently with unnatural discipline. For a moment, all was still.

Then, one of the Fae guards dropped from the driver’s seat, landing with the fluid, unnerving grace that only Fae-kind possessed. Helena’s heart thumped harder as he approached the heavy iron gate. She clenched her fists, knuckles white, breath shallow.

The guard slipped a key from beneath his cloak and pushed it into the massive padlock. She could see the shimmer of the ward, barely perceptible, that had sealed the gate with ancient, humming magic.

The clunking sound of the turning key echoed more loudly in her head than it should have. The ward dissolved in a ripple, vanishing as if it never existed. The gate creaked open.

The stallions stepped forward obediently, crossing the threshold into the street. Helena squinted at them through the gloom, guilt blooming in her chest. They were oblivious to the danger of the Wisp coin.

She clenched her jaw. I’m so sorry, it’s not your fault.