These Twisted Bonds (These Hollow Vows, #2)(31)

I finger a loose strand of hair at my temple and smile as the light catches on the threads of the goblin bracelet Bakken gave me. Dozens and dozens of thin silvery threads visible to no one but me glitter iridescent in the moonlight. I hop out of bed and find my knife. Using the sharp edge against the back of my scalp like a razor, I sheer off a short lock of hair and snap a thread on my goblin bracelet.

Bakken appears almost immediately. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since that night at the Unseelie palace. Then, with blood still on my hands from slaying Mordeus, I’d had to sheer off all my hair up to my jaw to get the goblin to take me to Finn’s catacombs.

I’m hoping tonight he’ll work for less.

“Fire Girl,” he says, grinning at me. “What do you have for me?”

I open my palm to show him the tuft of short hairs I’ve shaved from the back of my head.

Bakken scowls. “Don’t insult me, Fire Girl.”

“I’m mean no offense,” I promise. “But this is all I have, and I need to go to the Unseelie palace.”

“I don’t work for free.”

“Consider this a deposit,” I blurt, then swallow, hatching a plan on the spot. “How would you like a lock of Prince Ronan’s hair for the return trip?”

Bakken narrows his bulging eyes. He wants what I’m offering. “How do you intend to obtain the prince’s hair?”

“Leave that to me,” I say, a little breathless. I think this is going to work. “Please?”

It’s only as Bakken reaches for my wrist that I remember I’m dressed in nothing more than a thin sleeping gown.



Bakken brings me directly to a low-lit bedroom and vanishes again before I’ve even fully materialized. This isn’t the lavishly furnished bedroom I appeared in when going through the portal in the queen’s armoire. This one overlooks a rushing river flowing through a mountain pass, but it’s not the view that strikes me most intensely. It’s him.

The utter essence of Sebastian slams into me.

“Abriella!”

I turn to the sound of Sebastian’s voice. He launches himself out of bed. Before I can say a word or even brace myself, he’s gathered me into his arms and lifted me off the floor. He’s shirtless and warm, and it would be so easy to melt into him. Not just because I miss his warmth and love. Not just because I’m lonely and don’t want to live in this awful realm without him.

I want to melt into him because here, in the same room, this connection between us is more than a conduit of emotion. It’s as if he’s half of me, and I cannot bear the pain he’s feeling. It reminds me of myself seven years ago, of my grief in those days after I’d recovered from the fire. I’d almost died, yes, but my father had died that night, and the weight of that loss had been a constant pressure on my chest and shoulders, a grip around my lungs that made it impossible to take a deep breath.

Feeling that now—knowing Sebastian’s suffering in that way—I want nothing more than to ease his pain. With my kiss. With my body. With my forgiveness. Anything to crawl out from under the weight of all this grief and guilt and worry.

But I can’t. Instead, I press my hand against his chest and pull away. “Put me down.”

“Gods above and below, you came back to me,” he says, nuzzling my neck. His lips graze my skin, and it feels incredible—a buzz of awareness both from my own body and from his. “I knew you’d come back.”

I’m perilously close to dissolving under his touch, and I grapple for my control. “Put me down now, Sebastian.” Darkness floods the room with a deafening boom.

Sebastian obeys, slowly lowering me to the floor, and I grasp for control over my magic even as the darkness lifts. “I’m sorry,” he says, scanning my face. “I just . . . I’ve been so worried and have missed you so desperately. I tried to visit your dreams, but you pushed me out.”

“I know. Because you’re not welcome there.”

I don’t need to see the hurt flash across his features to know I’ve struck a blow. I feel it. It’s like breaking my own heart with every word. He shakes his head, and the pain abates— all of his emotions weaken, as if he’s somehow put a damper on them or thrown up a wall.

“I understand why you’re angry,” he says, “and I deserve that, but—”

“I’m not here to talk about us. I don’t forgive you, and I’m not looking for a reunion.”

His face pales, and those beautiful sea-green eyes lose their luster. “I didn’t want things to go the way they did,” he says.

I set my jaw. I thought I was ready to face him, that I could focus on my mission, but it’s harder than I expected. “You had choices. You could’ve told me.”

“Could I?” he asks. “What would you have said?”

I would’ve gladly given him the crown if I could. Except . . . it required me to die or to become fae to survive. The truth is, if I’d known what he needed from me, I would have run.

“Did you ever really love me?” I ask.

“You’re my bonded partner,” he says, cocking his head.

I huff. “Judging by the tattoos all over you, it seems to me that you bonded yourself to everyone who’d have you, so forgive me if I don’t take that as a sign of your undying love.”