A Court of Starfall & Deception - An ACOMAF Rewrite

Chapter 8

The Tithe arrived two weeks later.

I'd not had a single day with Tamlin or Lucien after the interrogation when I got back that first day. Tamlin had been called to the border. He didn't tell me why or where. Only that I was to keep to the grounds, and that I'd have sentries guarding me at all times. 

The semi-permanent gaggle of Spring Court lords and ladies at the manor had been dismissed, along with their personal servants. I was grateful for it, that I no longer would run into them while walking the halls of the manor, or the gardens, and have to dredge up a memory of their names, personal histories, no longer have to endure them trying not to stare at the tattoo, but... I knew Tamlin had liked having them around. Knew some of them were indeed old friends, knew he liked the manor being full of sound and laughter and chatter. Yet I'd found they all talked to each other like they were sparring partners, pretty words masking sharp-edged insults. 

Some days, I didn't speak to anyone at all. Even Alis. I savored the silence, even as it crept into my veins, my head.  

I found myself back to waking in the middle of the night to hurl up my guts, to sob through the nightmares. But at least I was alone. I didn't have to witness Tamlin being yanked from his dreams, shifting into that beast of fur and claws and staying awake until dawn, monitoring the estate for threats. Especially when I was the source of so many of those fears... 

I knew the servants reported all my movements to Tamlin, even when he wasn't here, so I spent my hazy days in the library, practicing my reading and writing. Adding to that mental shield, layer by layer. 

While they were gone, Ianthe returned - to keep me company, protect me, I don't know.

Ianthe, if she'd learned of her sisters' massacre in the north, said nothing about it the few times I saw her. And given how little I liked to be pushed into talking about the things that plagued me, I opted not to bring it up during the hours she spent visiting, helping select my clothes, my hair, and my jewelry for the Tithe.

When I'd asked her to explain what to anticipate, she merely said that Tamlin would take care of everything. I should watch from his side, and observe.

Easy enough – and perhaps a relief, to not be expected to speak or act.

But it had been an effort not to look at the eye tattooed into my palm – to remember what Rhys had snarled at me.

Tamlin had only returned the night before to oversee today's Tithe. I was grateful for the time apart, for any time I got alone. Tamlin had a lot on his shoulders, even if he wouldn't tell me much about it beyond what Ianthe had mentioned.

Seated beside Tamlin atop a dais in the manor's great hall of marble and gold, I endured the endless stream of eyes, of tears, of gratitude and blessings for what I'd done. A reminder of why I sat here, endured all I did.

In her usual pale blue hooded robe, Ianthe was stationed near the doors, offering benedictions to those that departed, comforting words to those who fell apart entirely in my presence, promises that the world was better now, that good had won out over evil.

After twenty minutes, I was near fidgeting. After four hours, I stopped hearing entirely.

They kept coming, the emissaries representing every town and people in the Spring Court, bearing their payments in the form of gold or jewels or chickens or crops or clothes. It didn't matter what it was, so long as it equated to what they owed. Lucien stood at the foot of the dais, tallying every amount, armed to the teeth like the ten other sentries stationed through the hall. The receiving room, Lucien had called it, but it felt a hell of a lot like a throne room to me. I wondered if he'd called it that because the other words...