Page 1 of The Curse of Golden Blood
one
The Tithe
Miralyte
ThelasttimeIsaw the fae, they were dragging my sister's body through the snow, her blood marking a crimson trail behind them.
Now, watching the same snow swallow the footsteps of the next batch of victims, I wondered if it still remembered Ciradyl's screams.
I tore my eyes from the drifts, forcing myself to focus. That day was long gone. But this one might end the same.
Hundreds of us marched toward the town center with our breaths rising in white puffs, the sky heavy with clouds.
Winter had never been kind to us.
The chill sank its teeth into me, burrowing straight into the marrow. It was the sort of cold that made your muscles stiff, your skin numb, and your minddull.
Perhaps that was why the fae had chosen this season. No one could fight when their limbs were frozen solid.
We were herded together in the middle of the town, where the cobblestone streets were swept clean, and the wooden signs advertising local shops had been taken down. A crowd had already gathered, waiting for the procession.
Most of them were the families of the unlucky souls who would soon be picked. Some were openly sobbing. Others had the same hollow, lifeless stare as the rest of us.
"It's so unfair," Pelbie muttered. She'd been saying the same words for the last ten minutes, as if repeating them would change the situation.
I'd already made a vow never to utter that phrase again. Fairness didn't exist. Wishing otherwise was a waste of breath.
"Don't let them see your fear," I nudged my friend's side. "You don't want them to see weakness."
"You should take your own advice."
Pelbie had a point. My fists were clenched at my sides, and my shoulders were drawn up so high I could feel the tension creeping into my neck. I forced myself to take a few deep breaths and relax.
The Tithe had to be carried out with a certain amount of fanfare. We had to parade around dressed in our finest clothes, and pretend we were honored to be selected.
"They won't even let us choose which court we get sent to," Pelbie went on.
"What difference would it make?" I asked. "You'd still be a Vessel. You'd still have to serve them."
"Well, some are better than others, aren't they? I heard that the Cloud Court is beautiful."
I rolled my eyes. Beauty meant nothing when the Cloud Court specialized in dream magic—stealing pieces of who you were until only an empty shell remained. I'd read enoughforbidden texts to know that much, even if women weren't supposed to touch the old books. "It doesn't matter how nice their castles are. You'll still be trapped. Is that really what you want?"
"No," Pelbie said glumly.
She tugged at her sleeve, eyes flicking to the crystal platform as if calculating its circumference. Pelbie always solved things in her head to stay calm. Formulas, facts, herbal dosages. Genius under pressure .
I reached for her and squeezed. "They're not going to pick either of us. The odds are low."
Pelbie’s fingers twitched at her sides, like she was counting something only she could see. Survival odds, maybe. Probabilities. Her mind never stopped, even when her voice did. "Don't be so sure," Pelbie said. "They take more each year. Faeries don’t breed fast enough. They need us to keep their courts running."
I frowned. "Greedy parasites, the lot of them."
The square was completely silent aside from the crunch of footsteps on the salty pavement and the muted rustling of clothing. It made it easy to hear the distant bells as the churches up north began to chime for nightfall.
"It's always so dramatic," Pelbie broke the silence.
The fae had a flair for the dramatic. The Tithe was the only day they came in full view, dressed in power and ceremony, reminding us who held the leash.
