Page 130 of A Soul’s Awakening

The guard, unhurried and confident, trailed the Dragon Carriage through the gate and turned to lock it behind him. The clunk of the padlock set the ward back in place, a rush of magic resetting around the manor. Without missing a beat, he vaulted back onto the seat beside his companion, the movement as effortless as wind through leaves.

The driver clicked his tongue. The stallions responded, hooves clomping on cobblestone as they began to move once more, breaking immediately into a quick trot. Helena took a deep breath, bracing her legs, and sprinted after them.

She managed to catch up with the Dragon Carriage, puffing heavily, before the horses gained more momentum and pulled too far ahead. Helena pulled the device from her hidden pocket. She held it in one hand and clenched her fist. It did not crush. Sweat drenched her face and chest as her mind whirled.

“Fuck!” she spat.

“What are you doing?!” A Fae guard stood on top of the carriage, glowering down at her, his lithe body riding the bumps of the vehicle seamlessly.

Helena tried to break the Wisp coin between her two palms, but it did not give. She finally threw it onto the neat cobblestones of the road. She took a running leap, landing on the coin, and smashed it beneath the sole of her boot.

The effect was immediate. Helena’s vision was filled with a sickly, bright green. The screams of the squealing stallions and pained shouts of the Fae Guards invaded her senses, making her ears ring. The green faded and burning heat blasted her face, blistering her skin. The two Fae guards were sprawled besides the half-collapsed carriage, their bodies smoking and charred.

The horses screamed and reared as the Wisp fire began to lick their rumps. Helena dashed over to them, not wanting the innocent animals caught in the inferno. She dodged their flailing hooves and unhitched each from the King’s carriage.

“Run!” Helena slapped each stallion’s rump. One bolted away into the night. The second trotted a short distance away before turning his head over his shoulder and pricking his ears back at the fiery wreckage behind her. “What is it, boy?”

Helena turned. To her horror, she saw an unblemished arm burst through the melted glass window of the carriage.

The bottom of her stomach dropped. “No,” she whispered.

She pulled the shucking knife from her boot, ripping it from its case. She clenched it in her fist. Helena dashed to the hand that was trying to wrench open the door by pulling at the melted bronze handle. She ignored the searing pain of the Wisp fire blistering the bare skin of her face and arms as she approached the flailing arm.

Helena drew a long line of gold blood as her blade bit his skin. There was a roar from within the carriage and the arm retracted. The King’s handsome face appeared in the flickering green light. The eerie flames had left him completely untouched.

“Little bitch. You think this filthy faerie magic would hurt me?” Rian growled. “I am the Dragon Flame.”

“I think you should have thought twice before stealing little girls from their beds,” Helena snarled back.

She sprang upwards, brandishing her blade. She struck true and plunged it into the bottom of his throat. Helena dragged it down, slicing a U-shape across his chest. Golden blood streamed down his bare skin, the Wisp flames having scorched away most of his shirt. She went to bring down her blade again, but the Seelie King caught her wrist.

“She did not look little to me,” he replied, a sick, twisted grin stretching across his face.

The Wisp fire lashed at Helena under his grasp. Not only did it burn, but it also cut. Little scratches nicked her body wherever the flames licked her skin. She grunted from the pain. Rian flew out his other injured arm and grappled Helena’s throat. He dropped her wrist and held her up by the neck, the toes of her boots scraping the scorched cobblestones.

“You are a worm,” he hissed. “A filthy human born to serve.”

Helena’s voice was stolen as her windpipe was crushed beneath his iron grip. The rings he wore on his fingers were red-hot and left scorching welts on her skin. She rolled her tongue in her dry mouth and sucked in her cheeks. Helena managed to work up just enough saliva to spit in his beautiful face.

Lance was awoken by a roaring thirst. Being so far from the sea for so long, and using his magic repeatedly, meant he was constantly thirsty and always tired. Every small use of his magic depleted it further, and he knew it would not be long until he could not use it at all. He straightened in the armchair, rolling his stiff neck. He licked his dry, cracked lips. Turning to the small table next to him, he poured a glass of water from the jug that sat there. Bringing the cup to his lips, he slaked his intense thirst, feeling his magic replenish slightly. He downed cup after cup, until only a small amount of water was left. He made a mental note to refill it in the morning.

The High Prince cast his eyes over to the bed where Eleanor was sleeping. He heard her whimper before rolling over. Lance furrowed his brow in concern.

Tides-damn, at least he hasn’t tried to control her again… The sooner Declan comes for us, the sooner we can get out of this nightmare. Lance stood from the armchair, rolling his shoulders. Len must be downstairs.

He knew her nights had been sleepless after accepting the Wisp coin from Declan. She had taken to spending them in the lounge, as her restlessness had repeatedly woken her family. The Merman shoved on his boots and decided to keep Helena company. He descended the stairs, a creak at every step, before rounding the corner to find her.

“Len?” he asked into the empty room, the oil lamps burnt out and newspaper folded onto the table between the two armchairs. “Len?!” he called loudly, his voice echoing through the lower floor.

He waited for a response, the minutes dragging, but no answer came.

She must have left without me. The High Prince’s heart sank. She promised we would do this together.

Lance set his jaw. He would not let her do this alone. The only other place Helena could be was outside Tithe Manor. His stomach clenched at the image of her waiting alone outside the looming building, copper disc in her hand.

But El... He paused at the door, turning his gaze back up to the dimly lit stairs. I don’t want to leave her. He felt as though his heart was being tugged two ways. But Len needs me, even if she doesn’t think so. He prickled with anger at being left behind.

The Merman stepped out into the warm night air. Lance began a quick jog through the city. He stuck to the main streets, not knowing another way to Tithe Manor. Each time he heard the stomp of guards’ boots on cobblestone, he would slip into the closest darkened alley, clenching his jaw in frustration at each wait.