These Twisted Bonds (These Hollow Vows, #2)(6)

Suddenly their chains break and their shackles fall to the ground.

A branch snaps behind me, and I swing around in time to see a figure step from the shadows. He has glowing red eyes and curled horns. I do a double take, thinking of Finn’s friend Kane, but this isn’t the male I know. This horned faerie has dark hair and doesn’t tower as tall as Kane. I half expect the children to shrink from the terrifying figure, but when he waves them toward the forest, they obey, running into the thicket—toward the portal?—as if their lives depend on it. They probably do.

A shout of pain brings my attention back to the camp. My friend has a sword to his neck, and the sentry holding it snarls. I focus on the guard and thrust him into his worst nightmares. His sword drops to the ground, and my ally gives a little salute in my direction before rushing to the next section of the massive cage.

My magic feels endless, always there with more to give when I reach for it, yet exhaustion swamps me, threatening to pull me from consciousness. But I don’t stop. As long as I have power to help and children to free, I’ll continue.

Minutes tick by, and sweat beads on my brow as I struggle to maintain my focus. I stop guard after guard with my power as more and more children rush from the prison, but the guards escape my hold almost as quickly as I can trap them.

A big hand grabs me by the scruff of the neck and drags me up. “What do we have here?”

I’m turned too quickly, my neck whipping back as I meet the murky brown eyes of the orc from the inn. A sharp sting buzzes through my shoulder, and pain blazes through my veins—hot and heavy. I try to lash out with my magic, but instead of pulling from an endless well of power, I find myself trying to fill a glass from an empty jug. There’s nothing there.

In the next moment, I collapse.



“I found her.”

“You wouldn’t have found her if Crally hadn’t told you where the magic was coming from.”

“Well, I stopped her. I get the first shot at her.”

“You? She sent me to the bowels of hell. I want to watch her bleed.”

“The bowels of hell? You’re really that scared of the dark?”

“Shut your mouth. You don’t know what it was like becoming nothing like that. Best part of that curse gettin’ broken is gonna be how good it feels to sink my blade in her heart. Unseelie filth.”

“Either of you touch her before the captain questions her in the morning, and you’ll have to answer to him.”

I’m on the ground, and my whole body burns and aches in equal measure. Metal shackles cut into my wrists, but I stay still and keep my eyes closed, listening to the men around me talk.

“You ever see an Unseelie bitch with hair like that?”

“She looks like the Hendishi from the shadow valley.”

“I never saw a Hendishi shorter than me. Can’t be.”

“She’s probably got horns hiding under there.”

“I say we kill her now. He’ll never know.”

“You have another way to explain what happened back there?”

Someone grumbles under his breath.

I reach for my magic and find nothing. It’s like trying to take a breath and finding there’s no room for air in your lungs. I try again and again. Nothing.

Panic swamps me and has me pulling against my restraints.

“Oh, look. She’s waking up.”

They’ve done something to me. Something to steal my magic.

The injections.

I shift my legs, testing. No bindings. But my wrists—iron manacles shackle them, and everywhere the metal touches me, my skin burns.

I keep my eyes on the ground, scanning my surroundings as best I can. A lone owl hoots from its perch above us, and insects fill the air with their nighttime song. A campfire crackles three feet from me. Two orcs lounge around it, as if they’ve set up camp for the night. A third looms over me.

“She’s awake.” A boot to my gut makes me cry out. “Say hello to the filth, boys.”

“Sit your ass down and leave her alone,” one of his companions says. “Once Captain has a chance to talk to her, you can have at her, but until then, back off.”

There’s a scuff of gravel, and boots come into my line of sight. The male stoops until his face is inches from mine. His breath smells like rot and decay, and his two curving teeth glisten in the firelight. “You ready to meet our captain? I’m gonna do you a favor, girl. Tell him who you’re working with, tell him who helped you, and he’ll only make it hurt a little.”

“Don’t tell her that,” one of the lounging orcs says. “I want to see the bitch scream.”

Once the captain gets here, I’m toast. I can’t be here when he arrives, but I can barely stay conscious now. And even if I weren’t fighting for consciousness, what would I do without my power and with my hands shackled?

Sleep, Abriella.

No. I can’t. But the voice in my head sounds like my mother’s.

Sleep, and let the shadows play.

The call is too sweet to resist, my body too weak. I close my eyes and sleep.



It’s time to run.

My eyes fly open. Last night’s fire crackles in front of me, and the first rays of morning sun slant through the trees. There’s a funny smell in the air. Sitting up, I rub my eyes with my shackled hands— and freeze.