Page 79 of Fae Tithe

“Come on, Goliath!” Eleanor urged. She rolled the reins in her hands, and the horse broke into a gallop.

Helena barely registered the moment they plunged through the burning wreckage of the gate. The stallion thundered forward, hooves striking sparks, as Lance held the steaming water ward in place. Sweat slicked Helena’s scalp, trickling into her hair.

She clung to him, nails digging into his shirt, trying to steady herself against the jarring rhythm of the ride. Lance’s arm locked around her waist, anchoring her as they hurtled through the inferno.

Above them, his other hand stayed raised, constantly feeding the ward even as it hissed and boiled. Lance’s face was taut with strain, his jaw clenched, the cords in his neck raised with the effort. She saw his fingers trembling, then felt the heat spike as his protective dome wavered. Still, he did not look down. His gaze remained locked ahead, through the flames.

They finally crossed the threshold from the city onto the main road. Once the group was clear of the Dragon Flame, Lance exhaled and finally let his arm drop to his side.

“Great job, El!” he called out, his voice shaking.

Eleanor kept her eyes dead ahead on the road as Goliath hurtled his speedy gallop away from Solas. She responded by lifting her arm above her head and giving him a thumbs up. Helena smiled feebly at the gesture. She turned her gaze to her Merman’s face. He beamed down at her and pressed her even closer to his side. She returned his grin with her own weak smile, before succumbing to exhaustion.

Helena saw Atlas again in the white void of her mind. The Dragon was lying on his chest with his long tail curled around himself, not for the first time, reminding Helena of a house cat. Atlas opened the eye on the side of his head that was closest to Helena. She saw that it had dulled with exhaustion. She walked over to him on a surface that was not there, her feet still finding purchase.

I don’t understand this mind stuff, she confessed.

Helena resolved to learn more. She had spent most of her life working and providing. She decided that she would etch out some time to read when they returned home, even if she was slow. Majora, her home island, had a small library, and occasionally travelling merchants would come to the Clusters to sell books. Helena had no idea whether they would yield information on Changelings, Dragons, and mind ties, of all things, but it was a start.

Ours, I believe, is a unique circumstance. Dragons of the same family, and those that are mated, can speak to each other with their minds, Atlas replied wearily.

How do those that are not mated or in the same family speak? she asked, pressing her matching hand to the scales under his eye.

Draconic. We emit the resonance of our language much too low for those who are not Dragons to hear and speak, Atlas replied, pushing his massive head into her palm and giving a contented hum.

That sounds a little bit like Mer and other Seafolk languages. I can only speak and read Seeliespeak, and I can’t read well, she admitted. Lance can speak at least a dozen, and I know he can read Seeliespeak and Mer, probably more.

He is a polyglot? Your Siren is impressive. Atlas shifted his tail and so it was wrapped around the back of Helena’s legs, pushing her more closely towards him. Your ability to only speak and read one language was a deliberate move on Theo’s part. It is not your fault.

She settled herself next to the Dragon’s eye, the end of his tail curling around her ankles, the serrated spear at the tip resting on her knees.

What do you mean?

Theo wanted to keep many under his influence. Take away people’s languages, force them to speak and read only their own? You swap the many for the one, and you immediately have more control. Atlas opened his maw and gave a mighty yawn. Your Siren will have to make sure we are safe for the time being. I do not know when we will be strong enough to use the Flame again, he admitted. I am drained, Len. The travel between worlds, keeping your curse at bay, and you using my magic to break the ward… I am exhausted.

So am I. How can I be so tired when I am already asleep?

Your mind is still working, that is why. I have to say, your use of my magic was impressive. You did so well. He closed the eye next to her head.

Helena let her eyelids drop. She felt strangely safe, tucked in against the Dragon that now made his home in her mind.

Eleanor relished the feel of the breeze blowing over her face as Goliath cantered down the main road that led them away from Solas. The spring sun above was hot, and she felt the skin on her face begin to burn. The Changeling did not relish the thought of sunburn. Eleanor did like the idea of getting her freckles and light tan back. She had both before the weeks inside Tithe Manor and her change. She desperately wanted to feel like herself again.

Her captivity under the Fae had not suited her. She was overjoyed at the feeling of freedom as she drove the Seelie Stallion down the road. In truth, she did not have to do much driving. It was clear Goliath was well-trained and easily avoided other travellers as he cantered past them. He did not waver in his pace and continued despite the lateness of the morning.

Eleanor let the wind tangle her hair as the cart rumbled along the road. Fields stretched wide around her, dappled with wildflowers in every hue. Scarlet poppies, yellow daisies, and tiny bluebells accented the emerald grass. Spring had swept over Seelieland like an artist’s brush, leaving no patch untouched.

Along the swollen banks of Sol River, golden reeds swayed and shivered. Warblers darted between them, trilling and fussing over their nests. The trees lining the road wore their blossoms like lanterns, in bright oranges and soft lilacs. Their fragrance drifted on the air, light and clean. Eleanor drew in a breath, nostrils flaring.

She let out a contented sigh. Better this than that Faedamn reek of roses.

The steady churn of barge paddles splashed, catching her attention. She managed a quick study of one before hurtling past. It was heading upriver, bound for the capital, weighed down by heavy crates. Further out, small sailboats glided towards the coast, catching the gusts of wind in their canvas sails.

Eleanor’s lips curled into a small smile. The King was dead. She was free. Yet, trade still moved, rivers still ran. Seelieland, it seemed, had no intention of stopping.

“How do you know him?” Lance called out over the rattling of the cart.

Eleanor snapped herself from her observations of the landscape.