Page 84 of Fae Tithe

What do you mean? Helena asked, eyes silvering from his overpowering emotions.

Once fierce and wild, but now they are… this. They used to have a horn, you know, he replied.

Atlas filled her mind with an image of a rearing horse. It was tall and muscular, with a flowing mane and tail. Importantly, a single horn spiralled from its forehead, pointing straight to the sky. The creature he showed her was midnight black, just like Goliath.

Lance interrupted her conversation as he plopped down next to her, a whole roasted trout on a skewer for them to share. Eleanor sat a short distance away, pieces of fish meat on a makeshift plate of folded-up cloth in her hand. Helena watched as the Seelie Stallion wandered over to her daughter and folded his legs beneath him, lying down next to her. The horse let out as contended nicker as she leant back into his soft fur.

“I don’t really know where to start,” Helena admitted.

She took the piece of roasted fish Lance offered to her. Helena placed it in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. It was well-salted and smoky, and the delicious flavour melted onto her tongue.

You should start at the beginning, when you awoke in Muspelheim, how you came to be there, Atlas suggested. He peered down her fiery eye as she moved her gaze from Eleanor to Lance.

Helena let out a long sigh. There was a dull ache at her temples. She felt her Merman’s hand give an encouraging squeeze on her shoulder, right over her black scales. Borrowing some of Lance’s strength, between bites of fish, she detailed the story.

Helena spoke of dying from Rian’s curse, about Atlas, the truth of the Last Dragon and the First King, Muspelheim, the bond, and the Surts. She then talked about Lance, of how he reached between the worlds and ripped a tear in the fabric of reality of Muspelheim. How his magic brought her home. Helena looked at him in awe as she explained that part. She was stunned that he had the power to reach between worlds.

Neither Eleanor or Lance spoke as she told them the story. She finally informed her family of where her Dragon was, how he now lived in her mind, and that Atlas could see and hear everything she could. Helena explained to her family how he spoke in her head, how she had some of his memories, and the Dragon had some of hers. She took a big gulp of water from the water bag Eleanor offered her before she continued.

“I don’t really understand how it works yet,” Helena admitted, “but Atlas saved my life. He is keeping the Seelie King’s curse at bay. He kept me alive long enough for you to bring me back to Midgard, Lance. Thank you.”

“Midgard?” Eleanor asked. Her voice was thick with drowsiness as she leant herself more heavily onto the stallion’s side.

“That’s what this world is called, El,” she replied, smiling as she saw her daughter’s eyes close as sleep took her.

“The world?” the Changeling mumbled as she drifted off to sleep, her head resting against Goliath’s pelt.

“Iwould like to bathe,” Helena signed to Lance once they had finished their meal.

They were sat quite close to her sleeping daughter, and she did not want to wake Eleanor. Helena desperately wanted to wash. She was painfully aware she reeked of dried blood and smoke. The scent of iron and ash filled her nostrils, staining her tongue.

Lance gave her an exaggerated wrinkle of his nose and a quick sniff. “Understandable,” he signed back, with a cheeky wink.

Helena gave a mock gasp. “Rude!” she gestured, giving him a nudge in the ribs with her elbow.

“Let me get it organised for you,” Lance signed, standing before she could do anything about it.

He tapped her thigh, and Helena shifted off the cloaks, so he could bundle them into his arms. She watched as he flitted around their camp. He quickly tied their cloaks from tree to tree.

What is your Siren doing? Atlas asked curiously.

I think he is setting up a makeshift washroom for me, Helena replied.

Lance tied their two cloaks to trees, making a rough triangle, to protect her from two sides. He strode back over to her and helped Helena to stand. Her feet felt tender even on the soft grass. It occurred to her that Lance may have removed her boots to heal her wounds, repairing her skin, even in her sleep.

Helena stepped into the cloth triangle. Lance stood protectively at the open end. She studied him. Huge dark circles bagged his eyes, and his face looked pinched with exhaustion. His short beard had sprinkles of grey through it. She also noticed that there was a singular streak of silver peeking through his long black hair.

The grey is new, Helena mused.

What does that mean? Atlas asked, of course hearing her.

We still need to have that privacy discussion. Not all my thoughts are meant for you, she chided. But it means this experience has aged him. He must have been – maybe still is – very stressed. Still so handsome, though.

“You don’t need to heal me tonight,” Helena said softly, her gaze meeting her Merman’s. “I feel comfortable enough. I just need you to hold me.”

Lance gave a long sigh. A muscle feathered along his jaw line, as though he was about to argue. “Alright,” he agreed.

Helena watched as the Merman focused on the river. Just like from the well at the villa back home, Lance shifted water from it in a spiral. His eyes followed the water as it formed a huge floating orb above her head. Helena peered down at her ruined clothes.