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

The barmaid opens the bag and peers inside, and her jaded eyes light up for a beat. Her lips curve in triumph before she schools her expression. “That’ll do,” she says, sliding a key across the counter.

“Second floor, last door on the left. I’ll have the maid take up some wash water for you.”

I know nothing about faerie money—what it’s worth, what I can expect from one of their shining gold coins—but I’ve clearly handed over a significant amount, and she’s trying to play me for a fool. I arch a brow. “I’ll need dinner too.”

She nods quickly. “Of course.”

Too easy. “And some clothes. Pants and a shirt. No dresses.”

Those wrinkled lips twist in consideration. “I’m not in the business of selling clothes, and the tailor’s shop is closed for the night.” At my hard look, she sighs. “But . . .” She looks me over. “You could likely fit into something of mine. I’ll make it work.”

I nod my thanks and slide onto a stool, unsure whether my shaking legs can take another moment.

“I’ll take my meal here.”

She tucks the bag away, then barks at a small child to get my dinner. He scampers off, his head down. When she turns her cold eyes back to me, they grow calculating. “Where are you from?” she asks.

I laugh, but I’m so tired it sounds more like a grunt. “You wouldn’t know the place.”

She arches a brow. “I know most places. Even spent some time in the shadow court during the war.”

I just shrug, figuring she wants those coins too much to insist on an answer. “Nowhere special.”

She sniffs, and I wonder what she smells. Do I still smell like a human despite being turned fae?

Can she smell the palace on me? Faeries have impeccable senses, but in my short hours in this transformed body, I’ve only found the heightened awareness of every sound, sight, and smell distracting. It’s too overwhelming to do any good.

The child returns, noiselessly. The barmaid takes a bowl of stew and a plate of bread from him and slides it in front of me. “As long as you don’t bring trouble to my door, I don’t need to know nothing. Sometimes it’s better that way.” She ducks her head to catch my eyes. “You understand?”

I pause, the first spoonful of stew halfway to my lips. What does she think she knows about me?

“Sure.”

She gives a sharp nod, then moves down the bar to help another customer.

I can hardly hold myself on the stool as I shovel the stew into my mouth. I shouldn’t be this tired, even considering the long day on horseback, but my body’s wrecked. As tempting as it is to ignore my stomach and go to my room, to climb into bed and surrender to sleep, I know I need to fuel myself for whatever’s next.

And what exactly is next?

I push away the question. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m going to do. I need to be away from the palace—away from Sebastian. I can’t think about the rest right now. Not about how unprepared I am to be alone in this strange land, and definitely not about how these pointed ears and this newly granted immortality mean I can never go home.

Never return to Elora.

Never visit my sister.

A heavy orc saunters up to the bar, takes the spot next to me. He’s over six feet tall with a flat nose, beady black eyes, and two big bottom teeth that curl onto each side of his upper lip. He’s massive, and solid muscle, as all orcs are, and his mere proximity makes me feel small and fragile. I bow my head, hoping not to catch his notice. After my encounter with one of his kind an hour ago, I’m not interested in getting this one’s attention.

“Ale?” the barmaid asks him, those pursed lips treating him to a smile.

“Aye. And a meal. Hell of a day.”

She pulls a tap handle and pours his drink. “Yeah?”

“The unclean ones have their powers back.”

Unclean ones?

The barmaid laughs. “Sure they do.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “It’s true.”

She shrugs. “If this means you can hurt them again, I’d think you’d be happy.” Her tone implies that she thinks he’s full of it.

“I’m not lyin’. Happened overnight at the children’s camp. Little fuckers killed ten of my men before we knew what was going on. The last eighteen hours have been complete chaos while we waited for the injections to arrive.”

The barmaid shudders. “I don’t know how you pump that poison into anyone.”

“Easy.” He mimes pushing the plunger on a syringe.

She shakes her head. “Got some stuck in me back during the war. Feels like death itself.”

When Jalek was prisoner in the golden palace, he was given injections that blocked his magic. Is that what they’re talking about? Are they injecting the children with the same thing?

When the barmaid turns to me and arches a brow, I realize I’m staring. I bow my head again.

“Rather kill ’em,” the orc says, “but we have our orders. She wants the little bastards alive.”

Children. He’s talking about the Unseelie children in her camps.

Rage simmers in my blood. I hate all of them. The fae are liars and manipulators. If it weren’t for their cruelty and political scheming, I could be home with Jas right now instead of here. Alone and aimless. Broken and stuck in this new, immortal body I never asked for.