These Twisted Bonds (These Hollow Vows, #2)(3)

But the children? They may be fae, but they’re innocent in all of this. Taken from their parents and locked away as part of an endless power struggle between two courts that already had too much power to begin with. It’s disgusting.

Maybe I was never imprisoned, but I spent my childhood caged by an unfair, exploitative contract.

I know what it’s like to be an orphan, and I know what it’s like to have your choices stolen from you by those who have so much power they can’t see anything beyond their greed for more.

The barmaid slides a bowl in front of orc, shaking her head. “The curse is really broken, then?”

“Aye.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry to hear about your sentinels. Will you be needing a room?”

He shovels a heaping spoonful into his mouth and doesn’t bother to swallow before speaking again. “Yeah. Need a few hours of shut-eye before I go back.”

She grabs a key from the board behind her and drops it in front of him. “Careful tonight, ya hear?”

The orc grunts in response and returns to shoveling stew into his mouth.

My stomach is sour at the thought of children being injected with anti-magic toxin, at the thought of them being imprisoned at all. The unclean ones, he called them. Is that a term used for prisoners or for Unseelie? I think I already know the answer, and it makes anger steam in my blood.

I force myself to finish my dinner, because I’ll need the energy, but the bread feels like ash in my mouth and the stew sits heavy in my gut.

After the barmaid has cleared my dishes away, I nurse my water while the orc finishes his meal and gets seconds. Only when he’s finishing those and making satisfied noises do I drain my glass.

“Mind refilling this and letting me take it up?” I ask, hoisting my empty glass in the air.

The barkeep nods and uses her pitcher to refill it.

With one last glance toward the guard, I head for the stairwell. I hide in the shadows, wrapping them around me so none of the patrons see me as they pass. I wait in silence, my lids heavy as the shadows stroke my frayed nerves, my body begging for rest. I wait and wait until, finally, the orc appears in the stairwell and heads up.

Keeping to the shadows is easy in the candlelight, and the guard’s lumbering breaths mask any sound from my own steps. He stops on the second floor and heads to the door two down from mine.

When he enters, the door swings into the hall and not into the room. Perfect.

Once he’s inside, I go to my own room. It’s small, dark, and musty, but there’s a bed and, as promised, clothes and a bucket of warm water for washing. I drain my glass and refill it with soapy water before returning to the hallway. I position the glass directly in front of the orc’s door so it will topple over when the door opens. I wish I could set a more elaborate trap with my magic, but I’m too unskilled and I don’t trust anything to hold while I sleep.

I’m exhausted and impatient, my instincts at war. Half of me wants to sleep forever while the other half wants to set out to help the Unseelie children right now. But I don’t have the first idea where to go or what I’d be walking into, and I need sleep desperately.

I return to my room, strip off my dirty gown, and scrub my skin until it tingles.

As I continue washing, I notice the emerald hanging between my breasts. Sebastian gave this to me for our bonding ceremony. It seemed like such a thoughtful gift—a piece of jewelry to match the dress my sister designed for me—but now it’s a cold reminder of his betrayal. I’m tempted to tear it off and toss it into the trash, but I resist. I don’t have any money, and I might need something I can sell down the road.

I swipe the washcloth over my breastbone, ignoring the rune inked into my skin, the sign of my life-bond with Sebastian, right above my heart.

It’s been only a day since I last bathed, but it feels like a lifetime has passed since I prepared myself for Sebastian and our bonding ceremony. I was filled with such joy and anticipation; now all I feel is the burning ache of betrayal, the steady lapping of his emotions through the bond, like waves against a crumbling seawall, threatening to overwhelm me.

Love you. Need you. Forgive me.

But forgiveness feels as distant and impossible as a return to my life in the human realm.

Sebastian stole the last of my ability to trust when he bonded with me. He made me believe he wanted the bond because he loved me. I tied my soul to his so he could protect me from those who would end my life to steal the crown. And he let me. He let me bond with him, coaxed me into it while feeding me carefully selected bites of the truth paired with tidy, alluring lies. He took my bond even though he knew the curse and his Unseelie blood would kill me, even though he knew I’d have to take the potion and become fae to survive.

And he did it all for power. For the very crown he condemned Finn and Mordeus for pursuing.

Sebastian’s no better than the rest of them, and now I’m tied to him forever. For my entire immortal life. Now I can feel him, as if he’s part of me.

I push it all away. His feelings. Mine.

It’s too much. Too big. And yet too small all at the same time. There are whole camps of children being drugged and locked away for the queen’s nefarious purposes. Innocent children who have no more power over their circumstances than I had when I signed the contract with Madame V so Jas and I wouldn’t end up on the streets.

When I found out about the camps, I was sick. Finn told me that when the golden queen’s guard caught shadow fae in her territory, she’d separate the children from their parents and put them in camps, where she’d brainwash them—teach them that the Seelie were better, more worthy, and that the Unseelie should serve them.