These Twisted Bonds (These Hollow Vows, #2)(81)

I shrug. “I’ll be fine. How hot can it get in the mountains?”



Really damned hot. Especially considering my too-thick clothing and the heat of Finn riding behind me. The sun beat down on us as we rode along the mountain paths, and by the time we stopped at the spring to make offerings to Lugh, I was flushed, sweaty, and miserable.

The human in me wanted to mock the foolishness of the simple ritual, but when we walked sunwise around the small stone-encircled pool in the mountainside, dropping handfuls of grain into the water, I felt the magic flow through me as sure as I feel the presence of the night sky.

When we were done, Pretha asked that we go on ahead and give her some time alone.

We ride only a short way before stopping in a clearing. “We’ll wait here,” Finn says, dismounting.

When he helps me off the horse, he holds me close a few moments longer than necessary, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile, as if he knows exactly how riding so close to him affected me.

I wiggle from his arms and step back. Looking over my shoulder. We’ve traveled just far enough that Pretha’s out of sight, but not out of earshot. “Why did she want to stay?”

“She scattered Vexius’s ashes around that spring,” Finn says softly. “This is the first time she’s been back to visit.”

My heart tugs for my friend and her grief. “Are you sure we shouldn’t have stayed?”

“We’re sure,” Kane says, taking a seat on one of several fallen logs arranged in a circle. “She wants to be alone. Let her.”

I follow his lead, but I settle onto the dirt in front of my log so I can lean back against it. The heat has taken too much out of me.

“Are you okay?” Finn asks for the third time since we left the spring.

“I’m fine. I can handle a little heat.”

“You could take off the dress,” Kane suggests, smirking. “We don’t mind.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t be a pig.”

“Ignore him,” Finn says, shooting Kane a look.

Kane shrugs. “She’s uncomfortable. I’m just trying to help.”

“It’s the season,” Finn says. “This part of the court could bring you snow in the morning and a warm enough evening to go swimming.”

“It’s true,” Kane says. “The only thing reliable about the weather here is that it’s unpredictable.”

“It’s not so different in Elora,” I say, remembering how volatile the weather could be at the end of the summer. I laugh. “Did you know that some humans blame you for any unexpected, unseasonal weather?”

Kane grunts. “Blame the fae? For the weather in an entirely separate realm? How powerful do they think we are?”

“The better question,” Finn drawls, “is why would we care enough to bring an early snowstorm or a winter heatwave to the human realm?”

I laugh again—so much of what I thought I knew about the fae was wrong—but then my smile falls away. “They also believe the Unseelie are wicked and cruel,” I say, shaking my head. “But even Mordeus couldn’t compare with the cruelty of the supposedly benevolent golden queen.”

“That was no accident,” Kane says. A fly buzzes around his face, and he waves it away. “Back before the portals were closed, the Seelie used the fear of the Unseelie to get humans to trust them.”

“Queen Mab used their fear to her advantage, though, like she did everything else,” Finn says.

“Was Mab the first Faerie queen?” I ask.

Kane pulls his canteen from his mouth and coughs.

“Not at all,” Finn says, shaking his head at Kane. “But she was the first shadow queen. She created the Throne of Shadows and provided a refuge for those the Seelie Court tried to enslave.”

“How did she create her own court?” I ask.

“This realm existed for millennia as a whole,” Finn says. “Faerie was one kingdom united by one king and one queen, but everything changed when Queen Gloriana came to rule. She did something unprecedented at the time: she took power before ever choosing a husband. Her parents passed the crown and its power to her and allowed her to step into the position before she chose her king, believing she hadn’t found her heart’s match yet. In truth, she was in love with two males—both were sons of a faerie lord but born of different mothers. One son, Deaglan, was born of the lord’s wife, and one, Finnigan, was born of the lord’s peasant mistress.”

“Finnigan?” I ask. “Another Finn? Are you named for him?”

Kane arches a brow. “She’s quick, that one.”

“He’s an ancestor, then?” I ask, ignoring him.

“Not by blood,” Finn says, “but you’re getting ahead of me. Legend says that Queen Gloriana loved them both and would’ve preferred never to choose, but the brothers were jealous and possessive, and together they demanded that she pick one to put on the throne beside her. Tradition would dictate that she choose Deaglan, since he had a royal mother and was of noble birth, whereas Finnigan was a peasant’s son, a bastard who would have to fight for the respect of the kingdom. But Gloriana’s advisors saw the extent of the males’ jealousy and told her that choosing either was dangerous. They told her to allow Deaglan and Finnigan to be her consorts but to choose someone else to sit beside her on the throne. Her advisors presented her with many options, and she determined to follow their advice, causing the brothers to believe that all hope was lost.”