These Twisted Bonds (These Hollow Vows, #2)(9)

.” With a wrinkled nose and a repulsed little shudder, he gives me a once-over and shakes his head. “I don’t care for bed partners who smell like the dung pile my father forced me to shovel as a child.”

I gasp. Rude.

He chuckles. “I speak the truth. You have . . . an odor, likely from last night’s sleeping arrangements, but nonetheless you look like you haven’t bathed in a fortnight. Forgive me for not finding you tempting.”

He’s maddening. “I don’t want to tempt you. I just want to . . .” What do I want? Nothing. I want nothing but to escape this nightmare. Right now, the only thing that appeals to me is sleep.

“Then sleep,” he says, waving to the bed. “But perhaps a bath first? I’ll call your handmaid.” He turns to the door.

“Wait.”

Pausing, he arches a brow.

“Who are you?”

His slow smile stretches across his face and makes his eyes light up. “I am Mishamon Nico Frendilla, but you may call me Misha.” He bows at the waist. “Pleasure to officially meet you, Abriella.”

Misha. Pretha’s brother. That’s why he is so familiar to me. He resembles his sister. “No.” I fold my arms. “You’ll have to take me somewhere else. I do not need to involve myself with another prince of another faerie court. No.”

His eyes go wide. “Prince? Milady, I am king. And with all due respect, where do you think you can go? You want some time to gather your thoughts and figure out how you feel without Prince Ronan trying to influence you. I’m offering you that time.”

“Get out of my head,” I growl. Not only do I not want to involve myself with more fae royalty, the last thing I need is to take shelter where even my thoughts aren’t private.

Misha sighs. “Like I said, Ronan can’t come here without my permission—not without starting an ugly conflict.”

“You can go into the Court of the Sun, open portals, and steal away the queen’s prisoners, but I’m to believe that Sebastian coming to retrieve me would be considered an act of war?”

“Trust me, the queen would love to seek retribution for all I’ve taken from her, but she can’t. Not without exposing herself to the entire realm as the slave-keeping, child-stealing, power-hungry bitch that she is.”

“But Sebastian—”

“Ronan’s power is tenuous at best, in either court,” Misha says. “He can’t risk losing the precious followers he has by sending soldiers to this mountain to claim a girl.”

“And Finn?”

He shrugs. “Finn doesn’t know you’re here.”

“And how do I know you aren’t in alliance with him in exchange for access to me?”

“And why does he need access to you? What do you have to offer?”

I flinch. Too true. Of course. Why would they risk anything for me? I no longer have what they want. “Perhaps you’ll sell me to the golden queen? Or maybe you’re looking for information. I doubt you’re doing this because you make a habit of helping random humans.”

He looks me over again. There’s no interest in his perusal, only curiosity. “I don’t help random humans, but you, Abriella, are neither random nor human.”

“You know what I—”

He holds up a hand. “As for my reasons for helping you, you are correct in assuming my motivations aren’t selfless. I’m responsible for my kingdom and all that reside here, and whether I like it or not, the actions of the other courts affect my people. And whether you like it or not, you’re caught up in the middle of all of it.”

“So I’m a pawn?” Again.

His eyes heat, and he steps forward. “You don’t get to play the poor little abused mortal girl with me,” he says. “Oberon gave you his crown and his power, and in doing so, he tied your fate to the fate of his kingdom. You weren’t given a choice. But neither was I when I was born to rule these lands.

Neither was Prince Ronan or Prince Finnian. You are not the only one who’s been dealt a difficult hand, and feeling sorry for yourself won’t change the fact that your actions will have an impact on my family, my people, and this entire realm.”

Gaping at the beautiful, sharp-tongued fae king, I grapple for a smart reply, but my brain is too fuzzy. “I don’t have the crown anymore. I’m just a human who’s been made fae. I’m no one.”

He looks me over slowly, and I feel as if he can see past all the dirt, past my skin, and inside my very soul. “You’re filthy and exhausted. You’ve never fully recovered from the potion, and you’ve expended an extraordinary amount of power in the last day. Even the sacred fire gem around your neck can’t save you from burning out if you keep this up.”

My hand goes to the emerald teardrop hanging between my breasts. “The sacred what?”

“Fire gem,” he says, eyeing the stone in my hand. “Don’t you know you’re wearing a talisman? An incredibly rare, highly valued one at that?”

I look closer and realize it’s not a stone at all—not like one I’ve ever seen, at least. “Why is it called a fire gem if it’s green?”

“They come in all colors, but I imagine it’s named after the way it looks when you hold it up to the light—like there are flames inside.”