Tithed to the Fae: Fae Mates - Book 1

by Chant, Zoe

  “Door, door.” He bent to peer through a tiny gap where a root arced free of the ground, then shook his head. “Too small, too small. Hmm. Where to find a door?”

  “I thought you just…” Tamsin gestured, sketching the outline of a rectangle in the air. “You know, kind of made them.”

  Motley clicked his tongue, throwing her a mildly exasperated look. “Can’t hang a door on nothing. Need a frame for it. Otherwise it can’t open.”

  Tamsin wasn’t quite sure she understood the logic of that, but she had to assume that Motley knew what he was talking about. She looked around, searching.

  “Could you use Aodhan’s front door?” she asked.

  Motley gave the carved oak panel a long, considering look, then shook his head. “Too tangled up with Aodhan’s magics. Wouldn’t want to turn his tree inside-out. He’d be cranky.”

  “Uh, yeah. Let’s not do that.”

  Angus bounded up to her, a stick clenched in his jaws. He dropped it at her feet, tail wagging, and barked imperiously.

  “Sorry, baby,” Tamsin said, still scanning the meadow for anything even remotely door-like. “I don’t have time to play right…now…”

  She trailed off, an idea hitting her. She picked up the stick—much to Angus’s excitement—and stared at it thoughtfully. They didn’t need a big portal…

  “Hey, Motley?” She waved the stick at him. “Could we make a door?”

  Sometime later, with some help from Motley and a lot of interference from Angus, she’d cobbled sticks and strips of cloth into a small, crooked frame staked into the ground. It was only a foot high and leaned to one side, but Motley seemed satisfied. He propped a sheet of loose bark up against the rickety construction and sat back on his heels, dusting off his hands.

  “Door,” he said. He reached for the bark again. “Ready now.”

  “Wait! I still have to write the letter.” Tamsin patted one-handed at her pockets, gripping Angus’s collar with the other. “Crud, I don’t have a pen. Do you have something I could write with? And, uh, on?”

  “No,” Motley said. “Wouldn’t work, anyway. Can’t go through a portal to the human world, here.”

  I am not going to scream. Motley can’t help the way his mind works. I am not going to yell at the poor guy for not mentioning this before.

  “Why not?” she said, and was proud of how calm she sounded.

  Motley frowned, looking as though he was trying to think of how to explain something. He held up his hands, palms parallel, about four inches apart.

  “Your realm. My realm.” He indicated each hand in turn. He wriggled his index fingers, then curved them so that the tips almost touched. “Some places, realms closer together. Like at the sidhean. Little gap, small gap, can jump over. Open the door, step through. Easy.”

  “But it’s not easy everywhere? Not here?”

  Motley beamed at her, like a teacher with a bright student. He wiggled his pinkies, without moving them closer together. “Yes, yes. Here, could open a door, but big gap between the realms. Can’t jump across. Can’t throw something across. Would fall down the crack.”

  “Okay. So you’re saying we need to do this back at the sidhean?”

  Motley dropped his hands. “No, no. Don’t need to go through the door. Just look through. Wait.”

  He whipped the bark to one side like a magician finishing a trick. Warm sunset light spilled from the rickety frame, gilding the edges of the blades of grass. Bending over, Tamsin peered through the sticks, and found herself looking out over the familiar sheep fields around Fair Hill.

  Home. The distant glitter of traffic on the horizon, the homely bright beacons of lights in scattered cottages, even the faint, windblown tracks of airplanes across the sky—the normality of it all made her heart tighten in longing.

  Motley clicked his tongue. “No. Not here. Try again.”

  He dropped the bark down to cover the portal like a curtain. Immediately, he lifted it again, revealing a different scene. This time it was Tamsin’s own kitchen, as though she was standing in the doorway looking in.

  Homesickness stabbed her again. There was her gorgeous vintage stove that kept the whole room toasty-snug even in the bitterest winter nights; her collection of handmade mugs, and her glass jars filled with different blends of loose tea, herbs, and spices. Everything was just as she’d left it, down to the dog chew toys scattered across floor and the dirty plate with buttery toast crumbs sitting next to the sink.

  Angus whined in her arms, straining forward. She tightened her grip on his collar, rubbing his chest.

  “I know, baby, I know,” she whispered, unable to tear her eyes from that familiar, tantalizing view. “We’ll go home soon. I promise.”

  Motley made another sound of annoyance. “Not here either. Wait. Will find her.”

  He flicked the bark down and up again. Tamsin didn’t even have time to take in the view that appeared through the portal before it was gone again, Motley closing and opening the makeshift door over and over.

  “No,” he muttered, his face scrunched up in an expression of intent concentration as he passed the bark back and forth in front of the frame. “No. No, no, yes!”

  “I don’t care that it hasn’t been three days yet!” someone said from the other side of the portal, voice raising. “Look, I know Tamsin Farley. She wouldn’t just flake out and not show up to work. She loves those dogs. I’m telling you, something has happened to her.”

  Relief surged through Tamsin at that familiar sharp, take-charge voice. Peering through the portal, she found herself looking down at Betty’s office. From the odd angle, Motley must have anchored the portal in one of the windows.

  Betty herself was pacing back and forth in front of her paper-strewn desk. She had a phone in one hand, while the other was clenched into a fist.

  The policewoman listened for a moment, and her mouth tightened. She looked like she really wanted to punch whoever was on the other end of the line.

  “I just know, okay?” she snapped into the handset. “Please, ma’am, I need authorization to start a county-wide search. Every day we delay gives whoever did this a chance to get further away. No, I know it’s not protocol, but—”

  “Betty!” Tamsin hissed.

  Betty looked up, and her jaw dropped.

  “I’ll…call you back,” she said into the phone, and dropped the handset. She jumped up onto her desk, her anxious face filling the portal. “Tamsin? Is that you? Are you all right?”

  “Are you Wild Hunt?” Tamsin blurted out.

  Betty blinked. “Okay. You have been busy in the unseelie court.”

  Tamsin let out her breath in an explosive whoosh. “So you are fae.”

  “Not exactly.” Betty’s lips drew back in a feral smile, and for the briefest instant unearthly fire kindled in her dark eyes. “I’m a hellhound. We’re kind of distant cousins to the fae. And yes, I am a member of the Wild Hunt.”

  “Quick, quick.” Motley had drawn back, hiding behind the portal as though worried Betty might lunge through and bite him. He fidgeted with the piece of bark, casting a nervous look around. “Open door to human world will attract attention. Bad attention. Not just the Hunt. Hurry.”

  “Listen, I haven’t got much time.” Tamsin spoke as fast as she could, her heart hammering. “I was tithed to the unseelie fae, and now I’m stuck here. There’s some kind of curse on me. Is there anything you can do to help me?”

  Betty’s jaw firmed. “I’m already working on that, but it isn’t easy. Look, did you get a glimpse of the guy who pushed you down the portal? Can you tell me anything at all about him?”

  “No, I never saw him. But he made a call to the animal shelter, if there’s any way you can trace that.”

  “I might be able to get something out of that. I’ll see what I can do.” Betty peered up at her, looking concerned. “Are you okay? How did you escape the unseelie?”

  “I didn’t. It’s complicated. I’m at the court of this high sidhe woman cal
led Maeve—”

  Betty sucked in her breath with a hiss, interrupting her. “Shit. Tamsin, I swear I will get you out of there. I can’t enter the fae realm myself, but I have a favor I can call in with the seelie. They’ll send someone to get you. In the meantime, resist as much as you can. Don’t give in to those unseelie bastards, no matter what. Help will come. I promise.”

  Tamsin had to swallow sudden tears, overwhelmed by her friend’s display of fierce protectiveness. “I knew I could count on you. And I’m okay, really. I mean, the situation isn’t great, but I’ve found some allies here.”

  “Time, time.” Motley was hopping from foot to foot, looking increasingly worried. “No time. Eyes, eyes looking our way. Got to shut the door.”

  “I have to go,” Tamsin said to Betty. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to contact you again. My friend says it’s dangerous to keep a portal open like this.”

  “Wait!” Betty tried to reach through the portal, but had to snatch her hand back as sparks snapped at her fingers. “Tamsin, listen, you cannot trust the unseelie. Especially not the high sidhe. They can’t tell a direct lie, but that just means they’re really, really good at twisting the truth. They can have you thinking black is white and up is down, and the worst part of it is that you’ll believe it’s all your own idea.”

  “Not all of them are awful,” Tamsin said. “I mean, sure, most of Maeve’s court are monsters, but one of the high sidhe fought for me. He’s keeping me safe here.”

  “If he is, it’s because he wants to keep you,” Betty said grimly. “For himself. To unseelie high sidhe, humans are nothing but property. And they’re hugely possessive.”

  “Cuan’s not—” Tamsin caught herself halfway through her reflexive protest.

  Because Cuan was like that, wasn’t he?

  She swallowed hard, forcing down the sudden surge of doubt. “Cuan’s not like that. He only wants to protect me. He’s a good man.”

  Betty breathed a curse word. “Tamsin, listen to yourself. You’re defending one of your captors. He’s got you glamoured up to the eyeballs. I know it’s hard, but you have to try to resist.”

  “Time,” Motley said again, practically vibrating with agitation. “Got to close the door, now!”

  “I’ll get you out of there,” Betty called out as the bark dropped down for the final time. “And whatever you do, don’t trust the high sidhe.”

  Chapter 12

  Cuan emerged from Aodhan’s oak to find Tamsin sitting on a root, looking pensive in the twilight. Foxfire-flies danced around her like stars drawn from the heavens by her beauty, but she paid the glowing multicolored insects no heed. Her eyes were turned in the direction of Motley and Angus, sporting together in the soft purple dusk, but Cuan had a sense that she wasn’t watching them, either.

  He joined her, being careful to rustle the leaves as he went so as not to startle her. “An emerald for your thoughts?”

  She flashed him a slight, quick smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “Okay, either that saying means something different here, or jewels are a lot more common in fairyland.”

  “I assume the latter.” He sat down next to her, resting his forearms on his knees. “Emeralds are of no great value in the fae realms. But in truth I would pay my weight in phoenix feathers to know the mysteries that pass behind your eyes.”

  She blew out her breath. “Trust me, you don’t want to know. Did you find out anything from Aodhan?”

  “I left him with his nose deep in a tome, muttering something about harmonic resonances and the potential for a totemic substitution.” Cuan lifted one shoulder in a wry shrug. “Whatever that may be. As I warned you, the most I could do was fetch him cups of tea and murmur words of appreciation. In any event, it seems that your problem has engaged his scholarly interest. If there is something to be found, Aodhan will find it.”

  Tamsin drummed her fingers on the tree bark. “Any idea how long that might take?”

  He spread his hands palm-up. “I am afraid not. But I believe he will not dawdle. In fact, I am certain he will neither eat nor sleep until he has an answer. When something seizes Aodhan’s attention, it is excessively seized.”

  “Well, that’s good news.” Despite her words, Tamsin still seemed disheartened. She picked at the tree bark, avoiding his eyes.

  “Tamsin.” He touched the back of her hand, stilling the nervous movements of her fingers. “What shadows you? Did something happen while I was with Aodhan?”

  “No, nothing,” she said quickly. She smiled, but it looked forced. “Just, you know, got a lot on my mind. And it sounds like it’s going to take some time to figure out a way to break the curse. That means you’re going to have to keep fighting.”

  “I will defend you with all my heart and skill. Though I would greatly appreciate your continued assistance in that matter. Do you think you could hide another pineapple about your person tomorrow, just in case?”

  That sparked a real smile, at least, though it was brief and fleeting. “I’ll do what I can. Which includes making sure that you’re in a fit state to fight. Did you get Aodhan to heal your injuries?”

  “I could not waste Aodhan’s limited goodwill on such a trivial matter. I am in his debt enough as it is.”

  Tamsin finally turned to face him head on, fixing him with a stern glare. “Cuan, you were throttled half to death. Don’t be such a pig-headed macho idiot.”

  His lips twitched with amusement. “I vow that I shall strive not to be. But truly, my hurts are too minor to require Aodhan’s attention. A lesser method of healing will suffice. Motley!”

  Motley broke off from his game with Angus, coming over. “Hello. I thought you were going to see Aodhan.”

  “I did, my friend.” Cuan laid a hand on the raven shifter’s shoulder. “My deepest thanks for your help. I need to take Tamsin one final place, if you can manage it.”

  “Of course.” Motley frowned, his forehead creasing. “But we broke the door. And it would have been too small to fit through, anyway.”

  “I think Cuan means back where you made the first portal,” Tamsin said before Cuan could ask what Motley meant by that. “You know, when we arrived here.”

  Motley brightened. “Oh, yes. Good doorway, that one. This way.”

  Without a pause, he shifted into raven form, flying back down the path. They both had to hurry to keep him in sight. By the time they caught up with him, back by the archway of trees, he was already back in man form, waiting with arms folded and one foot tapping.

  “Took you long enough,” Motley said, as though they had kept him waiting for hours rather than a matter of minutes. He looked Cuan up and down, his nose wrinkling. “Cuan, you’re hurt. And you smell bad. You need a bath.”

  Cuan smiled. “I do indeed, my friend. Would you be so kind?”

  Motley reached through the archway, pushing at thin air. With a shimmer, the view between the silver tree trunks changed to a gravel path winding along the bottom of a steep, rocky gorge.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Tamsin said to Angus, tightening her grip on the dog as he wriggled in her arms. “I’m not having you charging off and disturbing a dragon or something.”

  Cuan chuckled. “No dragons in our lands, I promise you. Or at least, not true dragons, the great winged wyrms. We high sidhe drove them from our lands eons ago, before the realms parted. According to the histories, many dragon-kind took refuge in your own world, in fact.”

  Tamsin shot him a dubious look as they both crossed through the portal. “I’m, uh, pretty certain we don’t have dragons in the human world.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “Were you also certain that you did not have the Wild Hunt?”

  She bit her lip, eyes dropping. She turned away from him, looking over her shoulder. “Where’s Motley? I thought he would follow us.”

  Cuan frowned, glancing back himself. Behind them, the path ran through a dolmen—a large, square arch formed from three rough-hewn gray stones. Motley must have anchored the portal
between the rocks, but it had disappeared now. There was no white-feathered raven in sight.

  “No need for concern,” he said, turning back to Tamsin. “He often wanders off, as the whim takes him. He will be fine.”

  Tamsin still looked worried. “Won’t we need his help to get back to your place?”

  “Once I have attended to my wounds, I will be able to return us to Lady Maeve’s sidhean without his assistance. It lies close by.” He gestured at Angus, who was pawing and whining to get down. “You may release your noble hound. This is a safe place, and he cannot wander far.”

  Tamsin put Angus on the ground. He dashed away to investigate a pile of boulders.

  “Where are we, anyway?” Tamsin asked, looking around.

  “Come.” He offered her his arm. “I shall show you.”

  She hesitated, then slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. Trying not to show how that light, simple contact made his heart pound faster, he led her down the winding path.

  The limestone cliffs on either side grew higher, towering above them, striped in bands of pale, subtle colors—burned umber, pale gold, tawny orange. Glowing lichen clung to cracks in the rock, shimmering in soft shades of blue and aquamarine.

  Minuscule silver flowers bloomed amidst plush pillows of moist, green moss. Tamsin brushed her hand over a patch of them as they passed, and a sweet, delicate fragrance arose in her wake.

  “This is beautiful,” she said. “It all looks so wild, but everything is perfectly in balance. It can’t be natural.”

  “It is, though not entirely. We unseelie believe in letting things grow as they will, with just the lightest of touches to best enhance their beauty. It is one of the things that distinguishes us from the seelie.”

  Tamsin gazed around at the moonlit gorge. “Why, what do they do?”

  “They are rigid and unbending. Anything that does not conform to their narrow standards of beauty, they destroy. This,” he waved a hand at the rainbow-banded walls, “they would quarry, taking the stone away from its natural place to adorn their halls. We know better. All things have a right to be, in their own unique way. It is our guiding principle, the unseelie creed: Do as thou wilt.”