These Twisted Bonds (These Hollow Vows, #2)(10)

“What do they do?” I ask. And why would Sebastian give one to me?

“Probably to ensure you were strong enough to survive the transition. Not all humans who’ve taken the potion have lived to speak of it.”

I swallow hard as a flurry of emotions twist my gut. Is this a sign of Sebastian’s love for me or further damning evidence of just how premeditated his choices were? He knew I’d die when I bonded with him, and he kept the truth from me. He stole my human life so he could take the Unseelie throne.

“You’re thinking too much,” Misha says. “I’ll explain everything soon, but you need rest.” He pokes his head out the door and calls softly down the hall for someone.

A white-haired female wanders in. Bowing her head, she skirts me and steps into what appears to be a bathing room.

“Holly will draw you a bath and get you some clean clothes,” Misha says. “If your mind won’t allow you to rest, there’s a sleeping tonic by the bed.”

As if I’d take anything—

“It’s not poisoned, Princess. It’s an herbal mixture prepared by my healer for a more peaceful sleep, but whether you use it or not is entirely up to you.”

I take a deep breath. He’s right. I need a bath and some sleep. I’m exhausted and heartbroken and — I scream and jerk back as pain slams into my body. I press my hand to my gut, fully expecting to see blood seeping between my fingers; then pain seizes my limbs so forcefully that I fall to the ground. “What . . .”

I lift my gaze to meet Misha’s and see confusion flash there before understanding takes its place.

“The bond,” Misha says, his eyes wide. “You’re feeling Prince Ronan.”

I gasp at the burning ache in my gut, in my chest. I’m being torn apart. “Sebastian’s hurt?”

“You tell me.”

He’s right. I know it as surely as I know my hand is my own. This pain is Sebastian’s. “He’s been . . . attacked.”

“With magic? With a blade?” Misha asks. “Is it a death blow?”

I shake my head. “I . . . I don’t know.”

“Focus,” he says, his voice as soft as silk.

I close my eyes to focus and am pummeled by sensations and emotions that aren’t my own. The pain rolling over his body, his despair, his heartache. There’s more. Frustration and worry. And . . .

jealousy? Ripe, green jealousy that’s so potent it feels like anger.

Misha chuckles. “He must be with Finn. Ronan’s still jealous of the shadow prince even after getting your bond. What an insecure child.”

I glare. “Stop that.”

He shrugs. “Just trying to help.”

Another wave of pain, this one less intense, but it leaves an ache. How badly is he hurt? Will he be okay? I stomp down those questions. He betrayed me. “How do I make—” I gasp. “Make it stop.”

“The bond?” Misha shakes his head. “You can learn to mute what you’re receiving from him, but it will still be there when you let your guard down.”

I need you I need you I need you I need you.

I press my palms to the sides of my head. He’s there—not in words, but in this echo of feeling.

“He knows you’re tuned in to him,” Misha says. “He feels it, and he’s trying to communicate.”

I love you I love you I love you I love you.

Despair is a blow to my chest, his mingling with mine, and I slump against it. I grip the wooden bedpost to pull myself off the floor. “How does this bond work?” I ask. I’m a fool for not asking more questions before I accepted it. A fool for trusting a faerie.

Misha arches a brow and studies me. “It’s a connection,” he says. “An awareness.”

“Does he know my thoughts?” I love you I love you I love you I love you. I need you I need you I need you I need you.

“Not exactly.” He tilts his head to the side and studies the ceiling thoughtfully. “It’s more like an impression. A strong empathic connection between the two of you. So if what you’re feeling translates strongly into a word or a phrase, he might get the impression of that word or phrase. But usually it’s more of a feeling.”

“How do we undo it?”

Misha chokes out a laugh. “It’s a soul bond, girl. You can’t take it back.”

“Surely there must be some way.”

“Perhaps, but it’s costly and painful and requires the full cooperation of both parties. You each have to choose to release the other. There’s a ritual that requires many of our sacred fire gems—the one around your neck wouldn’t get you close—and I’m told it’s as excruciating as the Potion of Life.”

My muscles lock up at the memory of the Potion of Life and the agony it wrought on my body. I don’t know if I could go through that again, but maybe there’s another way. The bond isn’t the same between a faerie and a human. If I could transform back into a human somehow . . .

“The only cure for immortality is death. There’s no reverse Potion of Life. Not anymore. Though it might surprise you to learn that you’re not the first to desire such a thing.”

I glare at him and his intrusive mind reading. “Tell me how to mute this bond.”