These Hollow Vows (These Hollow Vows, #1)(108)

The goblin cackles softly, and Mordeus scowls at him until he disappears in a flash of light.

“Oberon’s crown saved your life,” Mordeus says. “It gave you life when yours was gone. So, no, you cannot continue this mortal life without the crown. Through the bond, you would shift the crown to me the same way humans have shifted their life force to the Unseelie for the last twenty years.”

That’s what Finn wanted from me—what Sebastian was warning me about, why he said Finn could take me away from him forever if I bonded with him. Because a bond with Finn would mean my death. I shake my head, and the room spins. “Even if I was willing to die to fulfill my side of the bargain, how would I know you freed my sister?”

King Mordeus smiles. “I swore that promise on my magic, so you can be sure it isn’t one I will break.”

I stare at my feet. I need to think, but between the pain in my shoulder and the countless implications of this new information, my mind is fuzzy.

“Since you’re so clever,” Mordeus says slowly, “I could offer you an alternative. A gift.”

I lift my head. I fear my desperation for another solution is all too clear in my face.

“If it’s death that bothers you, but you’re planning to make good on your promise to return the crown . . . What if you didn’t have to end your existence, only your human life?”

“What?”

“Surrender your life to me, and with it the crown, and I will revive you with the Potion of Life.” He steps down from the dais and takes my hand. I’m so stunned by all this information that I let him. “This doesn’t have to be the end for you. This could be the beginning.” A pile of rune-marked stones appear in his open palm. “All you have to do is bond yourself to me.”

My head spins, the room blurring around me. Mordeus smiles, and I sway toward him.

“Choose the stone that will represent our bond and accept your fate, my girl.”

It’s so simple. Choose a stone. Accept my fate.

I reach for the pile of runes in his hand and feel like I’m floating. So familiar, this feeling. I’ve felt this before . . .

At the Golden Palace. When I was drugged.

“I need the restroom,” I blurt.

Irritation flashes in the king’s eyes, but he smooths it away quickly. “Of course. My servant will assist you.”

I nod, careful not to let on that I know I’ve been drugged.

A young human servant with a scarred face appears and leads me out of the throne room under the watchful eye of a dozen of Mordeus’s sentinels. She keeps her head bowed as she opens the door and steps in behind me.

“Could I be alone, please?” I ask.

The girl darts a glance over her shoulder, hesitating. “I shouldn’t . . . I mean, the king wouldn’t like it if . . .”

“I will only be a moment,” I promise, fighting to stay steady on my feet.

“Okay.” With a bowed head, the girl backs away.

When the door swings shut, I pull Finn’s elixir from my darkness. With a quick look at the door, I drink. I drink, and then I sink to the floor and try to figure out how to fix this mess I’ve gotten myself into.

I can’t give Mordeus the crown. I can’t do that to Finn or to Sebastian. If the two are united in anything, it’s the belief that Mordeus will bring nothing but destruction to Faerie. But I can’t abandon Jas either. Even if . . . even if she has been safe thus far. Maybe she could wait a little longer. If I just had more time, I could figure out a solution that doesn’t end with this crown on Mordeus’s head. After all, the conditions I’ve seen in the mirror showed Jas—

The mirror.

I’ve spent all this time believing that my sister is safe and happy in his care, but I’ve believed that because of what I’ve seen in the mirror. But once, for just a flash, I saw Jas in that dungeon. But then the image shifted to what I desperately wanted to believe. And then, when I wished so desperately to not be going through this alone, the mirror showed me my mother—not because she was there, but because I wanted her to be.

Didn’t Finn tell me not to trust the mirror? He said it was dangerous for someone who had so much hope in her heart, and I disregarded the warning. But hasn’t it shown me what I hoped to see more than anything else?

I believed it when it showed me that Jas was safe and happy—because I wanted to believe. But for a beat tonight, the image it showed of my sister was dire, not joyful.

I’d thought that Finn didn’t know me at all to think I had hope, but he was right. For my sister, even for my mother, I did have hope. But now it’s gone.

Before, I needed to see that my sister was safe, and the mirror gave me just that. With shaking hands, I lift the mirror, stare at my reflection, clear my mind of expectations, and focus on my desire for the truth. “Show me Jasalyn.”

There’s no lavish room with lush bedding. No laughing handmaidens. There are no trays of food and picture windows that overlook beautiful vistas. All I see now is Jas, chained in a dungeon, a pallet of hay on the ground and a bucket in the corner. She’s thin, pale, and sipping at a cup of water with chapped lips.

I clamp my hand over my mouth before my gasp escapes. Sinking to the floor, I stroke my fingers across the image until it floats away. I’ve been eating like a queen and making friends. I’ve been dancing and laughing and falling in love. And all the while my sister . . .