These Twisted Bonds (These Hollow Vows, #2)(103)

“When the water rises, you need the white-eyed monster. Don’t hide from him. And don’t give up.”

The image fades again, and I frown, trying to understand. “Can you show me?” I ask. “Explain why I need this monster?”

She fades away, and suddenly I’m floating above a room of sleeping children, like the infirmary in the capital but somewhere different. What does some monster have to do with the sleeping children?

“Lark?” I call.

“I’m so tired,” she says, but I can see only her eyes this time, nothing more. “It’s almost time for me to sleep.”

“You don’t mean— No.” My throat feels too thick, and I cough on surging tears. “But you’re half Wild Fae. How is this getting to you?”

“Don’t give up until the monster takes you deeper, Princess.”

She fades away, and I bolt awake, alert and panting.

The camp is quiet, and morning is close. Finn sleeps beside me, his breathing even, his arm looped around my waist.

White-eyed monster. What does that even mean? Is it some sort of metaphor? But my confusion is overshadowed by my fear. We can’t lose Lark to the Long Sleep. It would destroy Pretha.

I could wake Finn and tell him what I dreamed, but he needs the rest. We all do. If Lark is becoming one of the sleeping children, we need to fight harder than ever to get someone on that throne.





Chapter Twenty-Five

After another hour of fitful sleep, I wake to the first rays of dawn peeking through the trees. Kane and Tynan are sleeping on their bedrolls on the other side of our barely glowing fire. Finn’s left our bed early this morning, and I imagine him sneaking through the woods with his wolves, already out scouting for breakfast.

I grab my cloak and shrug it on, moving quietly so I don’t wake the others. I pull on my boots, not bothering to lace them, and make my way toward the trees, where I take care of business quickly before heading to the stream I spotted last night.

I’m in desperate need of a shower, but I’ll settle for washing my face and hands. I stumble forward, groggy after sleeping on the hard ground. Jas used to joke that I could sleep anywhere, but my weeks in Faerie have made me soft. Or maybe my sleeplessness had less to do with needing a mattress and more to do with trying to resist the deliciously warm and perfectly solid body holding me.

The stream is smaller than I hoped, but running water is still a gift, so when I drop to my knees beside it, I let it run over my hands for a moment before splashing my face.

Leaves crunch behind me, and I smile. I knew it wouldn’t take Finn long to find me.

“Good morning,” I call, turning without rising, but it’s not Finn.

A white-haired female in a blue cloak throws her hand out, and a burst of light barrels toward me.

I reach for my power, throwing up a shield and blocking her before I’m even sure what’s coming.

I jump to my feet and reach for the dagger at my hip, flinging it through the air toward her chest.

She grabs the blade before it hits its mark and throws it to the side. Opening her palm, she sneers at the blood there.

“You human filth,” she says, launching herself at me.

I fall back to my heels, blocking her first swing with my forearm. She lunges, and I sweep my leg out and around, bringing her to the ground. She reaches for her hip, but I pin her arm to the side with my booted foot before she can touch the knife strapped there.

I reach for my power, planning to trap her before she can overpower me. I could do it so easily, but I hesitate. Finn. I can’t risk Finn. I put my weight on her arm instead.

“Who sent you?” I ask, meeting her icy blue gaze. She spits at me, and I grind my heel into her wrist. “What do you want?”

Her gaze catches on something over my shoulder, and her sneer turns to a smile. I turn my head to see what she’s looking at, but I’m too slow, and the needle is plunged into my neck before I see it coming.

I scream as I go down, clawing at my neck and howling as the burn races like fire through my blood.

The male holding the needle has foggy white eyes, and he grabs my wrists roughly, yanking my arms behind me so tightly my shoulders scream in protest. Consumed by the agony snaking through my veins, I can’t bring myself to fight him.

The female in the blue cloak hops to her feet, glaring at me. “You’re lucky she wants you alive,”

she hisses. She wipes leaves and dirt off her cloak with her good hand and clutches her bloodied hand to her chest. “Where are the others?” she asks the male holding me.

“They’re being handled. Let’s go.” A whistle comes from the trees, and the male holding me frowns up at them. “Hurry. There are—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before a snarl tears through the morning air and two massive wolves charge toward us through the trees. Dara and Luna. One grabs the arms of the male holding me, yanking him back, the other pounces at the female, returning her to the forest floor before sinking her teeth into the female’s neck. She screams, but the wolf snarls in her face.

I right myself, reaching for my sword as more black-clad males pour from the trees, heading toward me. Dara and Luna howl and take off after them, not letting them get close to me.

Out of nowhere, arrows fly through the air one after another, taking out two men in black.