These Twisted Bonds (These Hollow Vows, #2)(13)

“That wardrobe is full. Whose clothes are those?”

“They’re yours, milady.”

I frown and study the dress on the bed. I don’t recognize it, but then I had more dresses at the Golden Palace than I could’ve ever worn. I let Tess and Emma choose my clothes and never paid much attention. “From the Seelie Court?” I ask.

“No, milady. These are new clothes, purchased for your stay in our lands. His Majesty asked us to prepare them for you while you slept.”

How so quickly? With magic? And how did I not hear them bringing all the clothes into my room?

But I don’t bother asking. It all feels like a trick. Everything in this realm is a trick.

“We’ll make adjustments, of course,” she says, “now that we know you prefer pants to dresses.”

Pulling open a drawer, she produces a pair of light brown leather riding pants and a white blouse and sets them on the bed next to the discarded gown. Next she opens a drawer and removes a set of undergarments.

“I can dress myself,” I say as she pulls a pair of riding boots from the wardrobe.

“Of course, milady. As you wish. I will wait in the hall and escort you to the dining terrace when you’re ready.” She gives a slight bow of her head.

I shift awkwardly. Even after weeks of being pampered and catered to at the Golden Palace, I’m still not comfortable with having servants. I’m so used to being the servant, I don’t think being on this side of the exchange will ever feel right. “Thank you.”

She turns to the door and stops, her hand on the knob. “It is I who should be thanking you,” she whispers.

“For what?”

“For breaking the curse.” She keeps her gaze on the door. “I lost a dear friend from the golden court. He was attacked by a shadow fae in his own home. He . . .”

“He couldn’t defend himself,” I whisper, and then cringe at myself for stating the obvious. The queen’s curse made the Unseelie mortal and limited their magic, forcing them to make human sacrifices to use their magic and extend their lives. But the cost of such a great curse was, in part, taking away the Seelie’s ability to physically harm the Unseelie, making the Seelie defenseless against Unseelie attacks and deepening the divide between the courts. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

She nods. “Not all in her court are like her,” she says, then scurries out the door.

I take my time dressing. The leather pants are soft and fit perfectly around my waist and thighs.

The blouse has a square neckline and laces up each arm in a fashion that places aesthetics over function—like so many clothes for females at home and here in Faerie—but it’s stitched of the softest cotton and allows me to move freely, so I don’t mind the unnecessary frills.

I know the boots will fit even before I slide my feet into them. They’re a darker leather than the pants and hug my calves, tying just below the knee. I take my time tightening the laces, comforted in knowing that I’ll be able to run if I need to. I don’t dwell too long on how Misha’s servants knew my size or why the king is being so generous. I’m sure he has his reasons for such generosity, just as I have reasons for accepting it.

Because you have nothing and no one. Because you have no choice.

Pushing away the dark thoughts, I finish dressing and turn to the mirror hanging over the bureau. I stop short at the sight of myself.

The female in the mirror looks like me, but isn’t. Her hazel eyes are the same shade as mine, but they somehow shine brighter. Her face is the same, but her skin is luminous, and her ears . . .

Swallowing back the hot surge of emotion bubbling in my throat, I tuck back my jaw-length red curls and examine my elven ears. Delicately pointed, these ears are the surest evidence of my transformation. In every other way, I could almost pass for human, but these ears mean I can never go back to Elora to see Jas.

Is she okay? Has she found work? Without any debts, her skills as a seamstress will be more than enough to support her, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she moved in permanently with my friend Nik and her daughter, Fawn. I could see that arrangement benefiting all three of them.

But knowing she’s okay doesn’t make up for the fact that I may never see her again. Of everything Sebastian stole from me, this hurts the worst. If Jas needs me, I won’t be able to return to Elora to care for her. I can never live there again. I can never go home.

Home. A memory cuts through me, too new and too fresh. Before I bound myself to Sebastian, I told him that Fairscape wasn’t my home, that I wasn’t sure I had a home anymore. He’d kissed me, and his words tasted so sweet against my lips.

I’ll make one for you . . . if you’ll let me.

Flinching, I drop a blanket of darkness on the memory, smothering it like an errant flame. Was it all a lie? Every touch of his lips, every whispered promise? Was it all a ruse to steal the crown? Was none of it true?

I can’t think about that right now. I won’t.

When I leave the room, Genny is in the hall waiting for me, as promised, but the hall is . . .

outside. There are doors on the wall opposite mine, but there’s no ceiling save for the dome of treetops looming high above. Birds chitter and swoop this way and that, and a soft breeze toys with the ends of my hair.

Genny leads me through the brightly lit halls until they open to a set of grand, twisting alabaster stairs with a shining wooden banister. If everywhere I looked in the Golden Palace reminded me of the sparkle and shine of a cloudless day, Misha’s home reminds me of the most beautiful parts of the forest, as if earth and stone and trees all came together to honor him.