Chapter 18

Chapter18

The tithing place is near the market, deep in an ancient grove of trees by the sea. Morven doesn’t take us there by any marked roads or paths—instead, we creep through the moss-carpeted trees and clamber up boulders, my torch doused and Morven’s better eyesight guiding us.

My feet hurt so much.

“Why can’t we just take the easy way through the market?” I ask in a low voice. The woods seem empty save for the thunder and creeping mist, but I don’t know how close we are to the stones yet, and I don’t want to risk being overheard.

“It’s the tithe. It’s secret,” Morven says, as if that explains everything, but when I make an exasperated noise, he sighs.

“Most creatures, including the fae, believe the rituals used to lower and raise the veil are vestiges of our old worships, carried forward purely for the reason of hosting the market. And they are partly right—the market is a vital thing, and if that were the only reason for continuing our ancient rites, we would still do them. But those tasked with running a court of Faerie—a ruler and their closest advisors, Seelie and Unseelie alike—are given the truth. That death renews life, and that this renewal is due every seven years. And that’s just here, in this part of Faerie. There are other parts of Faerie where tithes are demanded too.”

I recall Felipe’s mention of a tome from Devonshire. The people there had once paid the tithe another way…

“The rites used to lower the veil and then close the veil on a non-tithe year are an echo of the old magic. But the tithe is the old magic, the original magic. And it’s so old and so secret that even our own people only hear rumors of it. Because it is an awful thing. Necessary, maybe, but awful. And so, on tithing night, it’s hardly something we advertise by prancing through the market in full panoply. Fae rulers dislike speaking of it even with each other; it’s that much of a taboo to acknowledge it aloud.”

And yet the Queen of the Thistle Court had spoken of it quite readily to me in the Sanctuary. “I think Acanthia wanted this,” I say, the truth of it feeling clearer and clearer as I speak. “I thought she was helping me escape just to upset Morgana, but I think she knew that if I left, Morgana would take my place, and no one else.”

“That sounds like her,” Morven says. “I suppose they think they’d have an easier time coaxing me into marriage…or war, after Morgana died and I took the crown. And they might be right. I’d make a terrible king.”

He doesn’t sound upset when he says it, nor does he seem like he wants a response. So I don’t give him one, focusing instead on following him and keeping my bare feet mostly intact.

The lightning flickers constantly as we finally reach the place where the grove thins into a clearing, revealing the standing stones in their silent, crooked glory, ringed with blue will-o’-the-wisp torches. Morven gestures for me to stop well before we’d be in sight of anyone inside the standing stones, but it wouldn’t matter anyway. Everyone in the circle is very, very preoccupied with themselves. Preoccupied with Morgana, who stands in the middle wearing nothing but her white silk gown and her antler-bone torc.

Her dark hair is unbound, hanging in soft waves down her back, but the breeze lifts and pulls at her hair, revealing over and over the exposed glass of her back. She is arguing, I think, with Sholto, who looks wildly upset, and Idalia, whose moths flit around in darting, panicked movements.

There is one other person here, dressed in simple clothes of white and green, with a leek pinned to their chest. They have long hair and a slender frame, and they stand with their hands laced in front of them. Morven tells me they are named Ynyr and that they come from the Court of Harps some ways south of here. Every Tithe must have a witness from another court, Morven says, and Ynyr has come to ensure the Stag Court pays their due. From the warm way Morven speaks of the Court of Harps, I sense they’re not assholes like the Thistle Court.

“There is no other way, unless you are offering to volunteer,” Morgana’s voice carries over the wind. The trees around us creak like a boat in a storm. “It must be me. I choose for it to be me.”

“So you will pay with your own life?” Idalia asks, her voice breaking. She’s crying, and I don’t think I’d considered before now that Morgana being beloved meant something more than the land being attached to her. Idalia is agonized right now. “You will end yourself because Acanthia wanted you to suffer?”

Pay. Pay.

I think again of Felipe and his riddle.

A life paid didn’t have to mean a life killed.

“Morven,” I ask quietly. “Is there a way to pay a life without that person dying?”

He looks at me, a line of confusion between his straight brows. “You mean, like dying and being reborn? Like a god?”

“I don’t know, maybe?” I reply. “‘Sacrifice a life without ending it,’ that’s what Felipe said he read once.”

“Cernunnos had a power like that. Dionysus too,” Morven says. “And any new aspects of them would also gain their dying and rising power. Unfortunately, I’m coming up dry on how to turn any of us into a god at the moment.”

“Okay,” I say, “so let’s take dying and killing out of the equation. How else do you pay a life? How else do you sacrifice it?”

“I don’t know,” he says, a little impatiently. “I’m not exactly the sacrificing type. I’ve never given up anything in my life, and even when my sister was chosen to wear the crown by our court and I wasn’t, I stayed. I didn’t even think of leaving home because I couldn’t bear to. I couldn’t bear to give it up.”

Home.

Home.

It hits me like a sear of lighting, like an arrow bolt to the neck.

I step forward.

“What are you doing?” Morven says, stepping with me.

“I have an idea.”

“Is it an idea that will actually work? Or is it an idea that’s going to end with my sister dead and me being the worst king ever to sit on the antler throne?”

“I have no idea if it will work, but it’s all I’ve got,” I say. “Unless you want to wait around for the worst to happen?”

He lets out a heavy, put-upon sigh. “If my sister dies tonight, I will make sure Maynard sings the worst songs about you.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” I say, and then I start walking toward the circle, grateful to hear his nimble, rhythmic footsteps behind me.

The moment we step into the circle, I feel the frisson of power suffusing the space.

Electricity, potential.

Like the air itself is humming, vibrating with a song older than I can possibly imagine.

Morgana’s eyes widen when she sees me, and fear—real fear—chases across her face. “No,” she whispers. “You’re not supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be back home. Safe.”

Sholto, Idalia, and Ynyr are all watching me, and I notice Morven steps slightly in front of Sholto, blocking the tall advisor from being able to reach me quickly. I’m almost touched by his protective instinct, but then I see the look on Morven’s face. It’s very plainly an if you don’t save my sister, I will kill you expression, and that’s fair enough, I guess.

I set my eyes on Morgana, and my pulse speeds hot and quick. If I looked beguiling to her when I was bound and spread on the stone slab, then she looks perfect to me now—her hair blowing in the wind, her eyes flashing, the antler torc highlighting her long, graceful neck.

“I’m here for you,” I say, my voice pitched so only she can hear. “But I have to know one thing first. Did you always plan for me to be the tithe?”

Her brows lift; her mouth is soft and unhappy. “Yes, Janneth,” she answers as quietly as I asked. “From the moment I accepted your bargain. The long year of watching you and wanting you…falling in love with you. I knew what you’d be marked for. What I’d do to you.”

It hurts like peeling off a scab, like pulling a splinter free.

It hurts, and yet there’s something freeing in it.

She draws in a breath. “Except then you came here, then I truly knew you, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t use you to pay the debt. I…” She puts her hands palm up, almost helplessly. “I love you. So here we are.”

I step closer, my heart beating fast but my mind clear, the air cold and bright in my lungs. There is horror in this place, and there is horror in her, and yet it matches the need in me. Though I doubted someone could take me as messy and needy and sprawling as I am, here is the proof.

The queen loves me. Enough to die in my place when she had planned to kill me all along.

“Here we are,” I murmur. “Here I am. And here I’ll stay.”

A line appears between her eyebrows, and it’s so close to the expression Morven just gave me that I want to laugh. “Janneth,” she says. “You must leave. I don’t want you to see…” She looks down, and I see at last the dagger belted to her waist. It is sheathed in velvet embroidered with symbols that I don’t recognize; the faint sliver of the blade visible above the sheath is dark and dull. Iron.

The only iron I’ve ever seen in Faerie.

I take Morgana’s hands in mine, holding them tight. Mine are cold; hers are warm. She looks at me like she wants to eat me whole and also like she wants to tell me to run.

“I’m paying the tithe with my life,” I say, loudly enough that everyone in the stone circle can hear me. “I’m leaving the life of Janneth Carter behind. Forever. My parents are dead, I have no other family, and leaving their graves behind, along with my friends and my work, will come with pain. But the pain is what makes it a sacrifice, and so I pay it gladly.”

Morgana’s lips are parted in confusion. “What are you saying?”

“I’m staying in Faerie,” I tell her. “I’m saying I’m sacrificing my life—except instead of surrendering my body and breath, I’m surrendering my future as a mortal archaeologist, as a friend and as a student.” I take a deep breath and meet her gaze once more. “I’m saying that I’m yours, Your Majesty. Utterly and completely. Forever.”

The air splits, cracking like glass and then burning like fire.

It fills everything and everywhere—the air in my lungs, the space between me and the queen, the tiny space of a gap between her palms and mine. Light spills into the world, lightning forking down from the sky and joining to the trees and the standing stones, making a cage of sizzling heat.

And in that cage, I see visions of realms upon realms upon realms. I see them all suspended in space and time, joined, a tangled skein of kingdoms and dimensions.

And one by one, they vanish from view, tucked away once more.

The sizzling light fades, and the air becomes breathable again, light and easy and sweet. The electric feeling is gone, the ominous clouds are gone, leaving behind stars and a large, pleasant moon.

I look down and see roses have sprung up around my and Morgana’s feet. Their dark petals flutter and drift as the breeze tears them away.

We are still holding hands.

“You paid the tithe,” the queen says, her face young and open with shock and hope. “You paid the tithe, and no one had to die.”

“It was a lucky guess,” I say, pulling the queen close by her hands. “I had to try. And now you’re stuck with me.”

She searches my face. “You know I love you,” she says softly. “You know I’d want you to stay here, to live as long as one of us lives, like Felipe has. But you didn’t have to—”

“I love you,” I say, stopping her right there. “I love you so much it hurts, in the very best way. I love you so much that I still wanted to save you, even when I thought you wanted to kill me. Where you are is my home. For always.”

She touches her forehead to mine. “For always,” she echoes, her lips nearly grazing my own. “Forever, for the girl who will always want more.”

And I give up pretending I care about the people watching us. I wrap my arms around her and kiss her as hard as I can, shivering the moment she gives me her tongue and a taste of fairy fruit.

She tastes amazing, perfect, like a ripe eternity to be taken one bite at a time but swallowed whole. Heaven for insatiable girls; heaven when being hungry is half the fun.

And oblivious to anything and anyone else, I slip my hands into her soft hair and give her all my hunger and all my greed.

Enough to pay every tithe from now until immortal, monstrous, magical, cruel forever.

* * *

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* * *

“Don’t look at her,dipshit. Do you have a death wish?”

I let the barest hint of a smile lift my lips as I strode through the massive stone archway and past the guards who apparently thought I couldn’t hear them. The king in this realm refused to embrace the dress and customs of the modern mortal world, so the fortress stood unchanged from mortal antiquity: walls of stone and guards in bronze breastplates and tunics.

I looked out of place in combat boots and black fatigues, but I hadn’t had time to wipe the spattered blood from my boots, much less change into something that wouldn’t offend the ridiculous king.

I’d like to do far worse than offend him.

“Don’t be a pansy. She’s got sunglasses on.” The bravado in the smaller guard’s tone hid the fear I tasted in the air. But now wasn’t the moment to savor it.

“I’m not dumb enough to risk it,” said the bigger one, looking pointedly at the ground.

A sensible conclusion. Cowardly. But sensible nonetheless.

The stupid, brave one dared a glance in my direction and whistled low. “She don’t look dangerous.”

Oh, sweetheart…if only I had time to toy with you.

I almost always glamoured my appearance to what it had been when I was human. They knew what I was and yet had seen only a beautiful woman for so long, they forgot what lurked beneath.

The bigger one smacked his counterpart. “That’s how she bewitches you!”

I kept walking, eager to finish the job and get my sister out of this hellhole.

They swore I bewitched anyone who looked at me. The weak-minded fucks simply saw an invitation where there was none, and it was somehow my fault when it backfired.

To be fair, I could compel them to look into my eyes, but I wasn’t running around forcing random people to do it.

When I was younger, I believed them when they said I was bringing the danger upon myself, so I shrouded my face and covered my body, but it was never enough for them to leave us in peace.

I was forced to learn another way. They wouldn’t leave me alone when they thought I feared them.

So I made them fear me.

My hard-won reputation had worked for a while, but eventually a reputation grows until warriors want to test themselves against it.

Another set of guards silently opened the doors to the inner chamber, letting me into a cavernous dark room lined with stone columns. I didn’t remove my sunglasses; I could rely on other senses to make up for the darkness.

The older man on the throne marked my approach, and I pointedly avoided looking at what was displayed on the wall above his chair. Looking would make me want to puke, and I couldn’t afford that kind of distraction right now.

“It’s done?” Polydectes, king of this wretched kingdom, asked without glancing up from the parchment in his hand. He played it off as superior disinterest, but I knew better. He was too scared to look at me even if the sunglasses I wore were mirrored enough to make it safe.

Seems we’re both avoiding looking at the things that keep us up at night.

I pulled the heavy object from my satchel and held it out. He took it with his eyes still cast down, running his fingers over the shiny stone before he finally processed what he was holding.

His mouth tightened. “Was this necessary?”

For that reaction alone? Yes, yes, it was.

“You asked for proof. A trophy. I suppose you’d rather have a head or a heart?”

He pushed the stone off his lap in disgust.

It landed with a cracking sound, but my trophy was intact.

“You truly are a monster.”

I ground my teeth at the accusation, fighting the urge to look at the wall above him, to hurl the accusation back.

It wouldn’t do any good.

I shrugged, letting him think I was unbothered. They called me a monster but were only too happy to avail themselves of my services.

I was a monster so they didn’t have to be.

And I was done with all of it.

“Where’s my sister?”

He spread his hands, still looking down at the parchment. “I need you for one more job.”

“That wasn’t the deal.”

“Regardless, you will serve me.”

“Have your dog do it.” I nodded to the shadows behind the throne. I couldn’t see the captain of his guard, but with my heightened senses, I tasted the bitter tang of his treachery, so I knew Perseus was lurking there.

He stepped into the light, daring to look straight at my sunglasses. He was tall and muscular, with a chiseled jaw, a mop of blonde hair, and pale blue eyes.

Scum-sucking liars shouldn’t get to be that handsome, but I didn’t make the rules.

The king said, “He can’t. I need you to kill the Dark Druid.”

I looked back and forth between them to see if he was serious. “It can’t be done. Not even by me.”

His tone grew icy. “Not only will you do it, but you’ll do it before he drops the veil between the realms. Or I’ll turn Euryale over to my men for target practice.”

Shit. Shit.

Hunting the most fearsome creatures was my trade, but even I balked at the Dark Druid. He was a half-mad recluse who’d dabbled in dark magic, and now they said he was wrong, dangerously unhinged. As long as he got his sacrificial offering to drop the veil between the realms for Samhain every year, he remained within his cave, which everyone seemed to think was a fair trade. An act of aggression against him could be seen as an affront to the faerie Stag Queen since he served her, not to mention the risk of angering the Dark Druid if I couldn’t kill him quickly enough.

“Why? He isn’t a threat.”

“He’s a threat to the sacrifices,” Perseus said with a grin.

As though he cared about defenseless mortals.

I scoffed. “From what I hear, they aren’t complaining.” For many years, they’d been sacrificed and never returned. But more recently some sacrifices had reappeared, claiming they’d had a religious experience. Now people competed for the honor, swearing he was a sex god.

People like the Dark Druid didn’t change, though. It would only be a matter of time before they started disappearing again, but I wasn’t in a position to make that my problem. Why was the king suddenly making it his?

He shifted, clearly hiding something. I could taste his slimy secrecy and reluctance. “I need time to resolve a…situation. I have an unpaid debt to King Darius. If the veil is dropped now, the Shadow Market will open, and his cronies will be able to cross into this realm. When you remove the Dark Druid and bring me his ring of power, I’ll have a year to fulfill my debt.”

Making an enemy of King Darius was almost as dumb as attempting to kill the Dark Druid, but swapping one enemy for another hardly seemed like a good solution.

“The fae queen isn’t going to be bothered you’ve killed her beast and prevented the Shadow Market?”

He shifted again.

I sighed, feeling older than time. “You won’t have killed her beast. I will.”

“I’ll appease her. She may even be grateful to be rid of him and reward you. With the ring, I can protect you.”

He was desperate, and I was expendable if it meant he had a chance of holding off King Darius. If I was expendable, my sister certainly was too. I had no choice but to participate in his ridiculous plan if I ever wanted to see her alive again.

“How do you propose I even get close to him? He doesn’t leave his cave, and no one enters.”

The smile on Perseus’s face sent chills skittering down my spine like rodents. “With the sacrifice.”

The Death God’s Sacrifice is available now!