Tithe

by Chani Lynn Feener

  “I can—”

  “Where’s the damn market, Cole?” She stopped him.

  “We can’t be seen together, Arden,” he reminded her. He looked so different then from the boy she’d known, fragile and strong all at once. Determined, guilty and scared. “The Heartless aren’t supposed to interact before All Saints’ Eve.”

  She frowned—Mavek hadn’t told her that, no wonder none of them had been properly introduced—but now wasn’t the time to press for details about the Tithe.

  “I’ll go then,” she said, and when he opened his mouth to argue added, “Someone needs to stay here with her. I know these Unseelie better than you.”

  Cole shook his head. “You know the fae of the Midnight Prince. These are the Erlking’s. It isn’t safe there, not even for us. They won’t do anything to jeopardize the Tithe, but that’s still far enough away for them to have a little fun. They like their tricks.”

  “You’ll be able to keep her parents from coming in to see her if they get back,” Arden insisted. “I won’t. Tell me where to find the night market.”

  Since he was family, Cole could easily convince Tabby’s mom or dad that she was resting and couldn’t be disturbed. It’d be a bit strange for Arden to be visiting when she couldn’t hang out with Tabby.

  “Fine,” he stated. “Between Cross Road and Turner. Bexly Park? Past the old oak on the right, and through the birches. You know the ones?”

  She nodded.

  “That’s where you’ll find it.” He shifted on his feet. “Arden. Hurry.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Eskel told her when she turned toward the door.

  “Are you sure that’s wise?” She was referring to Cole’s comment about them not to be seen together.

  “Just take him and go,” Cole pressed, ushering them out the door.

  She was surprised by this. If both of them thought it was worth the risk then it was two against one, a losing battle. Right now, Tabby was the only thing that mattered anyway.

  “What are we looking for?” Eskel asked, pausing beneath the threshold.

  “I’m going to have to coax her awake and find out what color fruit she ate,” Cole told them. “I didn’t know she was there, so I wasn’t watching.”

  “Text me,” Arden said, then grabbed Eskel’s arm and pulled him away.

  Back in the car she gave Eskel directions to the small park that wasn’t a real park. It had been once, more than twenty years ago, but now it was nothing more than a small copse of trees, a pond, and a couple of forgotten benches. No one thought of going there anymore.

  They pulled over on a dirt patch that had probably once served as a parking lot, and Arden was out of the car before he’d even switched off the ignition.

  The night was in full swing now, and crickets chirped wildly from the bushes. Stars twinkled like vibrant pinpricks of light in the clear, inky sky above, and the breeze brought with it the lilting sounds of phantom music.

  “What is that?” Eskel asked, sensing the night music as they made their way past the large oak with the decaying branches. “Where is it coming from?”

  “This way.” She spotted the white, papery trunks of the birch trees ahead and picked up the pace.

  “Didn’t you warn me against going near those?” he said as they approached, eyeing the thick branches above cautiously.

  She would have laughed in his face if she wasn’t so worried about Tabby. But, she reasoned, since he was in fact a Heartless, it was ridiculous for him to pretend that he hadn’t known about the tree faeries before she’d brought it up.

  “They won’t bother us,” she ended up saying as they walked among the birches with ease, “not when we’re going to the market.” Not when we are what we are, she wanted to add, but didn’t.

  “Have you ever been to the night market?” Eskel stuck close, glancing over his shoulder one last time at the birches.

  “No.” Up until an hour ago she hadn’t even known it existed. There was too much folklore on the planet to know what was truth and what was fiction. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much she knew about the goblin market either.

  For the first time in a long time, she wished Cole was with her.

  “Neither of us knows what to expect then.” Eskel fiddled with the ring on his middle finger and Arden almost snapped at him to stop.

  She wanted to confront him, to tell him that she knew he was a Heartless like her and that he was the Erlking’s knight, but she didn’t. They needed to stay focused, and as confused and hurt—and pissed—as she was by his secret, she needed him. Because he was right: there was no telling what went on at the night market, and surely having the Erlking’s Heartless with her would be a bonus.

  Right?

  It was strange though, that she couldn’t be seen with Cole, and yet Eskel hadn’t hesitated in offering up his services.

  “Aren’t you worried about us being seen together?” Arden blurted. Just what kind of game was he playing?

  “Should I be?” he countered, sending her a sidelong glance.

  “This is dangerous, Eskel.”

  “More reason for you not to go alone.”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

  They brushed aside the last of the low-hanging branches and then stopped, both of them speechless.

  Arden thought they’d somehow gone in a circle and ended up back at the festival, but then she began to process what she was seeing. Dozens upon dozens of booths were set up in rows, stretching in all directions farther than she could distinguish. Some of the tables had awnings fashioned from silks in gold and black and silver, others only had a tablecloth in vibrant colors like red and yellow. Metal objects sparkled on the surface of some, while alien fruits and vegetables filled bowls and littered different tabletops.

  And the fae.

  Some of them were beautiful, with angelic faces and slinky bodies. Others had skin rough and coarse like tree bark. Some only made it up to Arden’s knees, their white hair skimming the ground. None of them were hiding. Every time someone glanced their way, their all-black eyes refracted a neon glow.

  The Unseelie didn’t have eyes like humans. They could disguise them so that they appeared human, but in reality, the white part of their eye was black, same as their iris.

  Arden felt her phone buzzing in her pocket and took it out, jolted back to their reason for being there when she read the text from Cole.

  “He says Tabby ate something pale purple with green and yellow spots shaped like diamonds,” she said, lifting a brow.

  “That’s descriptive.” Eskel rotated his shoulders as if preparing for battle as they entered the market, heading down the row directly in front of them. They had to pick their way through a large crowd, and she noted how he weaved among the bodies with the grace of an assassin.

  Which only made Arden more suspicious of him and his lies.

  They scanned tables as they went, stopping every so often to get a closer look only to realize it wasn’t what they were searching for. Whenever they got too close to one of the booths, the owner would try to sell them something, and they’d run away quickly. They traveled down five different rows with no luck.

  “This isn’t working,” Eskel ran a hand through his hair and spun in a slow circle, frustrated as he scoped the full extent of the market. “There has to be an easier way to go about this.”

  Arden had been trying to pick out someone from the crowd that she recognized, but to no avail. Cole had been right when he’d said these weren’t the Unseelie she was used to seeing roam around town. That had become abundantly clear after they’d passed the third booth selling what appeared to be severed body parts of other faeries.

  “We’re going to have to ask someone.” But who? There wasn’t a single Unseelie here who looked even remotely friendly. Arden twisted the thin silver chain of her heart necklace around a finger and paused. “Wait here.”

  He wanted to argue, but she was already moving toward the nearest stall. A tal
l, dark-haired faerie was perched on the edge of a blood-red stool behind the stall. A single bloom was tucked behind one ear, and while Arden didn’t recognize her, the rose was an obvious indicator that she was one of Mavek’s.

  “Hello,” she stepped up, making sure to keep playing with the pendant so that the female’s gaze would travel to it. It worked. “I was wondering if you could help me find something specific.”

  The female was eerily beautiful, with creamy skin that mirrored the moonlight above and a gossamer gown made of silver and white silks. Her wide, oval-shaped eyes glistened when she leaned forward, peering at Arden’s necklace as if she were searching for authenticity. Satisfied, she sat back and offered a smile that contained more venom than honey.

  “Of course, Heartless. I am at your disposal.”

  “Great.” Arden opted to ignore the false smile. As long as the faerie helped her, it didn’t matter what she really thought. “I need to find a fruit.” She described it and waited, watching closely as the faerie thought it over. There was always the chance that the female would send them in the wrong direction, but they’d have to risk it.

  “Try Jenny Greentooth,” the faerie pointed a finger over Arden’s shoulder, “beneath the willow over there. She specializes in foods grown in fresh water. She might be able to give you what you’re seeking.”

  “Thank you.” Arden turned and walked past Eskel, waiting for him to fall into step next to her before filling him in. She could make out the willow and spotted the long table set beneath it with a gold cloth.

  “So the fruit grows under water?” Eskel asked. “Strange.”

  “Because the rest of this is so normal,” she mumbled, stepping out of the way of a man twice her height with a reddish sheen to his skin.

  “Just one more question,” Eskel held up a hand, “how do we plan on paying for this fruit?”

  They wouldn’t know what it was the faerie would want in return until they spoke to her, so Arden hadn’t bothered worrying over such a trivial detail. Now, she let out a growl and slammed a hand over Eskel’s when he went to take out his wallet from his back pocket.

  “Don’t,” she hissed, glancing around to make sure no one noticed. “Are you crazy? You can’t wave around money!”

  He stared at her. “Why not?”

  Arden gave him an incredulous look. Clearly the Erlking hadn’t taught him a damn thing. For a moment she debated whether or not there was a chance she’d gotten it wrong and he was actually Titania’s Heartless—it made sense considering Cole knew so much about the night market—but she remembered the ring and what it meant.

  Eskel wouldn’t be wearing the Erlking’s symbol if he was the knight of a competitor.

  “Money doesn’t have any value to them,” she explained, keeping her voice low, “so if they see that’s what you intend to pay with, they’ll think we’re trying to swindle them.”

  “Did you just use the word swindle?” The corner of his mouth began curling up, but at her glare he wiped his expression clean. “Right. Sorry. Serious mode activated.”

  “Come on.” She rolled her eyes and started for the tree again.

  “But then what—”

  “We’re going to find out.” She could see the owner of the table now, and steeled herself against her immediate trepidation.

  The faerie appeared to be an old woman, with skin that reminded Arden of pickled eggs, and long, straight, graying brown hair. At their approach, she turned her head toward them, lips pulling back to expose a set of pointed teeth protruding from black gums. She was wearing a shawl made of different bits of dark leather. From beneath the boughs of the oak, the moonlight reflected only off the content of her table, keeping her in complete shadow.

  “Ah,” she cooed as they stopped before her table, “the little Heartless. I’ve heard lots about you, dear. Lots and lots.”

  The table was covered in items Arden hoped were edible. A basket to her left held something dark blue and shaped like a star, and right next to it sat a white gourd the size of a basketball. Another basket held pink, round chunks with the stems still sticking out, like an apple, and yellow branch-like pieces were tied together with a maroon ribbon.

  “I’m looking for a pale purple fruit with spots shaped like diamonds in green and yellow,” she said, hoping that she sounded sure of herself. Arden had never actually needed to make a deal or trade with an Unseelie before. Mavek took care of anything she needed—which was nothing—through his people.

  “Ah,” Jenny Greentooth repeated, rubbing her hands together so that they emitted a sandpapery sound. “Right and right. Interesting choice that. It’s a Rusalka favorite. A delicacy, really. Very hard to harvest.”

  Fear tightened in Arden’s gut and she struggled to contain it. They got off on exploiting the fears of humans.

  “Do you have some?” she asked, praying the answer was yes, or at the very least, that Jenny Greentooth could point them in the direction of someone who did.

  “I may have one left over,” she clucked her tongue and dipped to shuffle stuff around beneath the table and out of sight. A moment later she emerged holding a single small, purple fruit in her left hand. “Here we are. You’re lucky. It’s the last of the batch.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  Jenny pulled it back, clutching it to her breast as she tapped a long and chipped nail against her thin lips. “What to ask for in exchange... Oh! I know, I know. A tear. A Heartless tear.”

  “Fine.” Arden ignored the warning bells going off in her head.

  Jenny pulled a small glass vial from a hidden pocket, no doubt placed there for just such an occasion, and held it out to her.

  Arden unscrewed the cap slowly, working herself up for a cry.

  “Is this a good idea?” Eskel asked her quietly. He obviously didn’t think so.

  It wasn’t like they had another choice, and she didn’t bother pointing that out yet again. Instead, she thought about what would happen to Tabby if they didn’t do this, and the way her best friend had looked when they’d left. She thought about her sister who hated her on a good day because Arden had sent her away. And how crazy her mother had been in the end.

  How that might be Arden one day, clawing at walls and screaming about devils.

  A few tears slipped down her cheek as she lifted the bottle to quickly catch a drop. She wiped the others away before the faerie could get any ideas, and then topped the bottle and held it out in one hand, her other hand, empty and extended next to it, waiting for the fruit. She refused to let the bottle go until the fruit rested in her palm.

  It was only the size of a golf ball and fit easily in Arden’s jacket pocket. She placed it there and carefully zipped up her pocket before turning her back on the booth and Jenny Greentooth without a parting glance.

  Arden watched closely as Cole brought the edge of the cup up to Tabby’s purple lips. Her friend looked worse now than when they’d left for the market less than two hours ago.

  They’d rushed back and Cole had tossed the weird fruit into the blender, turning it into a gross purple juice to force down his cousin’s throat. Tabby was too out of it to chew, she seemed barely conscious.

  “Are you sure this is going to work?” Eskel asked from where he stood in the doorway, watching with furrowed brows.

  “It should,” Cole replied, tipping the cup up so that more of the drink could slide down Tabby’s throat. He had to go slowly so that she wouldn’t choke, and so far she was taking it without any problems. “As long as we got the right fruit, we should start seeing improvement by morning.”

  “How do you know?” Arden believed he wanted to help Tabby—the two of them had always been very close—and yet, her own past experience with him kept reminding her that he couldn’t be trusted. When she’d needed him most, Cole had abandoned her. What was to say he wouldn’t do the same to Tabby?

  “The Erlking told me,” Cole said, refusing to look at her, as if ashamed. “After I got addicted to the fruit, he found me
. That’s how I became his knight.”

  Arden exhaled, and the sound must have come more forcefully than she’d thought because they both stared at her. She glanced between Eskel and Cole, noticing the necklace dangling from around the latter’s neck for the first time. If he’d been wearing it before, he must have had it tucked beneath his shirt.

  Cole protested when she reached for it, tugging at the ring on the end of the long silver chain so that she could get a better look. It was an exact copy of the one Eskel wore on his hand.

  Frowning, Arden refused to let go, even when Cole began trying to tug away.

  “But I thought…” No one could have two knights, it was against the rules. Which meant that one of them had to be lying, because they couldn’t both belong to the Erlking.

  Eskel stepped closer and peered over Cole’s shoulder, getting a good look at the ring she was still palming. His blue eyes widened and his left hand immediately went to the one on his right.

  “Where did you get that?” Eskel demanded.

  Finally, Cole freed himself and got off the bed, backing away from the both of them. He almost spilled some of the juice on Tabby in the process, but managed to right the cup at the last second. He glared at them and straightened the necklace around his neck.

  “It’s the Erlking’s symbol,” Cole snapped. “It signifies that I’m his Heartless.”

  “I thought Eskel was his Heartless,” Arden said.

  “What?” Both Eskel and Cole said simultaneously, looking at her like she’d grown another head.

  “Why would you think I was a Heartless?” Eskel followed up.

  “You have the sight,” she flung a hand toward the ring he was still twisting around his finger, “and that!”

  “This was my brother’s!” He held it up so that the light glinted off the metal. “He was wearing it when we found—” He stopped, took a breath, and when he spoke again he was more composed. At least on the outside. “He was wearing it when we found his body. I don’t know where he got it.”