Tithe

by Chani Lynn Feener

  “What was so bad that I wouldn’t want to see it?” she asked, almost regretting it when he winced. “What happened at the rest of the party that’s so unforgivable?”

  Mavek stood his ground, debating whether or not to answer her truthfully. He wore black leather pants with a formal jacket opened over a silk button-up. He looked more like a hot college student about to go clubbing than a centuries-old faerie prince.

  Not that she knew what a faerie prince would look like otherwise. He was the only one she’d ever met, and despite his title, he wasn’t even technically a prince. Both he and the Erlking had to answer to Titania, who was considered Queen of the Fae.

  The three of them tended to spread across North America, only gathering their courts together a few times a year. The Tithe was their largest event, and the only time in seven years that all three courts gathered together as one. From now until the day after All Saints' Eve, Mavek would be forced to do as Titania said, no matter what he wanted himself. This was a fact that Arden found infuriating.

  She hated the idea that he had to follow another’s rules; she’d always seen him as the strongest being in the world. But he wasn’t, not really, and having Titania in town was just another reminder that in his world Mavek was only one of the more powerful of his kind, not the most.

  Arden thought again of the Unseelie girl with the basket, hunting down the tree sprites, members of Mavek’s court that guarded some of the woods in Thornbrooke. All the fae were dark, but Mavek at least kept an order to things.

  “One of the Erlking’s subjects was executed,” Mavek told her then, pulling her from her thoughts with a start.

  “What?” Her stomach roiled. “Why?”

  “Disobeying.” He tilted his head, watching her through narrowed eyes as if to gauge her reaction to his next words. “The Erlking left her in charge of a family member of his Heartless. Apparently, that member had an accident and died. His Heartless is not doing well, as you can imagine, and is now fighting with the Erlking to allow him to go home.”

  “Of course he is,” she said. “Isn’t he going to let him?”

  “No.”

  “But that’s—”

  “It’s too close to the Tithe, Arden. The Erlking can’t risk it.”

  “You mean he won’t,” she corrected. Technically, the Unseelie still had Titania’s Heartless and Arden herself to fall back on. They didn’t need whoever the Erlking had chosen in order to successfully make the Tithe.

  He looked away. “You know we need the strongest candidate.”

  “Out of those chosen,” she stated. “Even if there was just the one, that’s still one. One is all the Tithe calls for. One person to willingly sacrifice their soul for another seven years of freedom for your people.”

  In return for that, the human winner’s curse would be broken. For her, that meant wiping the slate clean for her relatives and any future generations. She, her sister, and any children they might have would be safe from the sight and the curse that came along with it: going insane and dying young. Her soul, as far as she was concerned, was a small price to pay for that.

  Her mother had deteriorated slowly right before her eyes, sometimes forgetting who her daughters were and attacking them, screaming words like demon and devil. Then she’d killed herself so that she wouldn’t have to see the Unseelie ever again.

  Arden’s great aunt supposedly went through the same affliction, as well as her great-great-great-grandmother before her. Only the women in her family carried the curse, and fortunately for them, most of the children born on her mother’s side had been male. Her mom was the first unlucky girl in almost two generations.

  “The fact of the matter is, it never should have happened at all. The Erlking placed protection on his Heartless’s family in order to prevent such complications. The Corrigan he’d left behind got distracted and failed to do her job. So he killed her.”

  Arden recognized the type of faerie. Corrigans appeared as beautiful women at night as they searched for their true loves. Only, during the day they reverted into withered hags. They were cursed as well, a curse that could only be broken by a man willing to remain with them even when they turned old at daybreak. If they were fortunate enough to find such a mate, then they would get to keep their youth forever.

  “How was she—”

  “Stop.” Mavek took her hands, slipping the final throwing knife from her fingers. “Please, heart, don’t ask me that.”

  “I’m a part of this world,” she argued, “whether we like it or not. I want to be prepared.”

  “Not for that.” His eyes glinted, but she didn’t think the sudden anger was directed at her. “I won’t fail like the Corrigan, Arden. I’m going to protect you from such things. From such fates.”

  “Mavek.” She placed a palm against the spot on his chest where his heart beat. It wasn’t like a human heart—the pumps fewer and farther between—reminders of how different the two of them were from one another. “The Tithe is in six weeks.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Because I’m going to win,” she nodded, frowning when he didn’t immediately agree with her. “Don’t you think I can do it?”

  He had thought so before he’d left three months ago on his search for the secret thing he refused to tell her about. He’d been adamant, in fact, that she would. He’d spent the past year telling her without a shadow of a doubt that she was going to beat the challenge against the other Heartless.

  “It’s not that I don’t think you can,” Mavek began tentatively, “it’s just…” He laughed at himself, but there was no humor in the sound, and then turned away from her. Flinging the knife, they both watched as it twirled tip over handle over and over again before slamming into the very center of the target, snug between the two she’d thrown earlier.

  “Never mind,” he told her, taking her hand. “Let’s go upstairs, I brought you another cupcake.”

  She wanted to insist he explain himself, holding herself back at the last second. It was rare for him to seem unsure, and she found that it shook her confidence. Even if, for some reason, he no longer believed that she could win, Arden had to stay strong. She would not allow what happened to their mother to happen to Ainsley.

  Arden didn’t want it to happen to herself either. Sometimes, she’d wake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat from a dream where she’d gone insane and almost killed Mavek, thinking he was someone else. She was always in the same small white room her mother had been in, with the single window and the single bed and dresser. With no bathroom, her mother had relied on the nurses coming to take her to the communal facilities three times a day.

  Arden remembered pitying her mom in those days. Her mom had clawed at Ainsley’s arms one time and had to be dragged away by three large male orderlies. Arden didn’t want Mavek—anyone, really, but him specifically—to see her like that. She didn’t want him to pity her like she was some fragile broken thing, not when seeing the spark of pride in his eyes gave her such a rush.

  Not when her most secret wish was to have him look at her the way a boy would if he were interested.

  She felt like a fool and actually blushed as she trailed him up the stairs, glad he was ahead of her and couldn’t see. She hated those thoughts, the ones that always made her feel pathetic and weak. Logically she knew they could never be together, and that should be enough to get her stupid heart to shut up and move on.

  But it wasn’t.

  Arden waited outside the theater, hands stuffed into the pockets of her pink pea coat. It was especially chilly, and she was glad she’d thought to grab it on her way out the door. Above, the sky was bright, cerulean blue and cloudless, so the sun was warm enough to counteract the gusts of winds that blew by.

  At her right people entered and exited the theater. Since it was the middle of the day, she didn’t expect to find any Unseelie traipsing around town, but after seeing Victor and Twila at the diner yesterday Arden wanted to be cautious.

 
When she spotted Eskel her mood picked up, and not wanting to dwell on the whys of it, she pretended to adjust the leather strap on her left boot. He’d reached her by the time she straightened, and she smiled at him.

  “Just in time.” She tugged open the door to the theater and motioned him ahead of her, executing a mock bow.

  With a smirk, he entered. Once at the front desk, he bought two tickets without asking her permission, handing over a crisp twenty before Arden could stop him.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking the ticket. “I’ll buy the popcorn.”

  “Then I’ll buy the Milk Duds.” He lifted both brows in mock challenge and she laughed.

  He’d invited her as a friend; they weren’t on a date. She didn’t know why she felt the need to establish that by insisting on spending money herself.

  The line moved quickly enough, so they didn’t have to think of something to say to fill any awkward silences. Seats were also easy to find, and they got good ones in the center only a few rows back from the screen.

  Eskel tore open the box of Milk Duds and then shook them into the popcorn she’d settled on her lap.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, once the deed was done.

  “I’ve never tried,” she admitted, scooping up a couple pieces of popcorn and a single Milk Dud. The mixture of buttery caramel and salty butter hit her tongue, followed by the sweet hint of chocolate. “Wow.”

  He took a handful himself.

  “You’re quiet today,” she pointed out, after he’d downed a few more handfuls.

  “I did some research last night,” he told her. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

  He didn’t have to elaborate. He’d gone home and looked up the Unseelie, now that she’d supplied him a name to go along with the creature. Arden licked her lips and took a steadying breath. It wasn’t like she’d revealed anything, really. He’d already known something was out there—that the supernatural did exist.

  She thought about the Erlking’s murdered faerie and swallowed a well of guilt. “This is dangerous stuff, Eskel. You don’t want to know the things I know.”

  He looked at her hard, searching the plains of her face as if hoping to discover her secrets etched in her skin. “I know things too, Arden.”

  The way he said it caught her off guard, like he was the one hiding things from her, not the other way around. Like there were things weighing on him that he had yet to tell. Everyone had their secrets, but how could his have to do with the Unseelie?

  Before she could ask, a body dropped down nosily into the seat next to her. A hand snatched up some popcorn a split second later.

  Arden glared at Cato.

  “Hello, Heartless,” he cooed, completely unaffected by the metaphorical daggers she was hurling his way. He propped an arm on the rest to lean over her. “Eskel.”

  “You know my name.” Eskel eyed him suspiciously.

  Good for him.

  “Any friend of Arden is a friend of mine,” Cato said, grinning so widely that his teeth flashed in the dimming lights. “Looks like it’s about to start.” He rubbed his hands together. “What’s this film about again?”

  “Sorry,” Arden mouthed to Eskel just as the movie began to play.

  He just shrugged and turned his attention back to the screen.

  The seat to her right shifted, and then she felt Cato’s warm breath close to her ear. She didn’t pull away, not wanting to cause a scene, forcing herself to remain still despite how badly she wanted to hit him.

  “In the back corner to your right,” he whispered, waiting for her to casually look in that direction. “Do you see them?”

  She did.

  Arden didn’t recognize them, but that didn’t mean anything. Mavek’s court was large in number, and she usually stayed away unless called to one of the revelries. There were the Unseelie she’d seen around town and in the woods while growing up, but she’d always held herself aloof from them.

  She could only discern what they were from the sparkling sheen to their eyes, a result of their tapetum lucidum. The same tissue in the eye that many nocturnal animals had, it caused light to reflect back and appear as a glow in a variety of different colors, depending on the angle. Although a familiar sight in cats and dogs, seeing the same effect in creatures that appeared human was eerie.

  From this angle, the reflection looked teal every time the picture on the screen lit up particularly bright. They were seated next to each other, without food, watching the previews play as if they belonged there.

  She couldn’t tell much about them from where she sat in the dark, only that they both had short hair and broad shoulders. They were dressed in button-up shirts with vests over them, a similar look to the one Mavek often preferred. Almost like they were trying to attract attention.

  “The one on the left is a Buachailleen,” Cato whispered to her, moving his head so it appeared that he was watching the film as well. “They’re shapeshifters whose main form is that of a young, attractive man.”

  Arden resisted the urge to take another look.

  “His comrade is a Gancanagth,” he continued, pronouncing it, gon-cawn-ah. “They seduce human females who eventually die of love for them. Usually they stick to beautiful, cliché romantic settings. Their attractiveness rivals that of the Buachailleen.”

  “Do they usually hang out with one another?” Why she bothered to ask when she already knew the answer was beyond her. Maybe she just wanted to keep him talking. She had to admit her curiosity was piqued, as well as her unease. Was it mere coincidence they were here at the same time that she and Eskel were?

  It had to be.

  “No,” Cato confirmed her suspicions. “They’re usually adversaries, considering that their goals are so similar. Though, the Buachailleen have a tendency to torture animals for fun.”

  “That’s disgusting.” She wished she had one of her throwing knives on her. The two daggers still tucked into her boots wouldn’t travel far enough, or with enough force, to hit a target at that distance.

  “The Gancanagth agree,” he stated, “believe it or not.”

  “What are they doing here?”

  “My guess is they’re only here to watch the movie,” he caught her eye and held it. “But I could be wrong.”

  Arden reached for some popcorn, and realized that Eskel had eased closer. He was practically leaning on her arm rest, just a breath away from touching her. Obviously he’d been listening in, and a part of her hoped that he heard enough to come to the conclusion that she was telling the truth. This world was dangerous.

  Humans had been hunted by the Unseelie since the dawn of time, and now Thornbrooke was overrun with them. He’d do best to avoid drawing their attention, at least until after All Saints’ Eve.

  And he couldn’t do that if he kept hanging around her.

  Arden felt her chest tighten, and any semblance of a good mood vanished. She’d realized it before, especially after all of Cato’s warnings, but this was further proof that she shouldn’t be entertaining a friendship with Eskel.

  She spent the next two hours staring at the screen but seeing nothing. When the movie ended, Cato stood and the movement of his seat shook her into action. She stood and waited for her legs to solidify under her weight, wishing she could sit back down and stay in the dark forever.

  In the corner, the two Unseelie had already left with the rest of the crowd. It wasn’t enough to make her feel better though.

  “That was a terrible portrayal of the Erlking,” Cato said then, distaste ringing in his tone. “And what on earth was that creature with the two heads supposed to be? He wasn’t modeled after anything I’ve ever seen before.”

  “You’ve been alive for, what?” Eskel asked, voice even, “a couple centuries?”

  Cato’s eyes narrowed and he glared down at Arden.

  “She didn’t tell me anything,” Eskel was quick to her defense. “I already knew.”

  That wasn’t completely a lie. Arden waved a hand, in
dicating they should get out of the theater before continuing their conversation. Amazingly, Cato complied without argument, leading them quickly from the building and out the back door.

  The parking lot was mostly empty with just two cars. Leaves of differing oranges and yellows were scattered across the asphalt, scrapping against it as the wind pushed them. The air was colder now but the sun was still blaring above in the clear sky. Sunlight spilled down on them, sending shoots of white gold glinting off Eskel’s head and streaks of fiery gold off Cato’s as the two faced each other.

  “Oh, enough.” Arden rolled her eyes. “Let’s at least get coffee if you two are going to insist on doing this.”

  Cato’s eyes widened.

  “What?” she snapped, her bad mood worsening.

  “Did you just invite me to come along?”

  Shit. She had, hadn’t she? With a low growl she headed for the street, calling over her shoulder to them, “If you’re coming, then get a move on. I’m not waiting. For either of you.”

  After a moment they both fell into step, one on either side of her.

  “Has she told you what she is?” Cato asked as they crossed the street toward the coffee shop.

  “I’m allowed to have friends,” Arden snapped.

  “You keep saying that.”

  “Because you keep insinuating that I need reminding.” And she was so far past sick of it. All Cato had to do was sit down and point out some nearby faeries for her to start second-guessing her friendship with Eskel. But as long as that’s all it was, why did it matter?

  It didn’t. It shouldn’t, anyway. Her curse had already taken so much, why should she allow it to damage something else? She liked Eskel, even his inquisitiveness on the one subject she was trying to forget. She didn’t want to give him up before they’d even established anything, despite the risks.

  “It’s only fair that he knows,” Cato urged, and she hated him for it because he was right.