These Hollow Vows (These Hollow Vows, #1)(12)
I ignore the nickname he’s used for me since the day we moved in with Uncle Devlin and I met Bakken for the first time. He took my hand in both of his and leered at the scar on my wrist—the only evidence left of the burns that should have killed me. That day, I was shocked that he knew about the fire and my unlikely survival, when I knew nothing about him. I didn’t know then that goblins deal in stories—in histories, secrets, and information. They make it their business to know. “Take me to my sister.”
He blinks several times, as if trying to process my request, before shaking his head. “It doesn’t work like that.”
“Cassia said you’re the one who took her to the traders’ market. I need you to tell me who bought her—how to save her.” My heart is racing too fast, and it’s all I can do not to look over my shoulder to make sure that Madame V is still in her office. She wouldn’t want me talking to Bakken and would probably find a way to make me pay for the privilege—or to deny me entirely out of spite. If I don’t talk to him now, I may never have another chance. “Please.”
“There is a price.” Licking his lips with a pointed tongue, he closes the distance between us. He glances down the hall in each direction before pulling me into his tiny room and closing the door behind me. When it clicks shut, he drags one of those long, pointed nails through my hair, from my ear all the way down to my shoulder. Revulsion crawls over my skin, but I don’t let myself back away. He releases a gleeful giggle. “Such a fascinating red. As if your hair took on the color of the fire that day.”
“Take me to whoever bought Jasalyn.”
He frowns. “But why?”
“I want to . . . I’ll buy her back.” I’ll have to raid Gorst’s vaults again to have any chance of finding enough money. Maybe even clear them out this time. But it’ll be worth it.
“Not everything is about money, mortal.” Bakken narrows his eyes and cocks his head to the side. “In this world of yours, I’d think you’d be glad to have one less mouth to feed, but you look . . . heartbroken? Curious.”
I clench my fists at my sides. Goblins are known for their ability to move between the realms and for collecting information. They’re not known for their compassion. “Where?”
“Let it go, Fire Girl. You don’t want the fate that awaits you in Faerie.”
“I want my sister back. Tell me where you took her. Please.”
“What will you give me for that information?”
The word anything sits on the tip of my tongue like a piece of sour fruit. I want to spit it out, but goblins are very literal. I know better than to offer more than I can give. “A lock of my hair.”
“Ah, but I’d prefer to have all of your hair.” He reaches out, but drops his hand before touching me. “It would make such a beautiful scarf. What could I make with a mere lock?”
“What could you make with nothing?”
He grins, but I see the greed in his eyes, the glint of desperation. “Show me how much.”
I take some between my fingers and hold it out for his inspection. “From here,” I say, pointing to a spot on the lock just beneath my eye, “to the end.” Jas used to wear her hair with shorter pieces that framed her face. I always loved the way it drew attention to her eyes. But I wouldn’t dare let Bakken know I won’t miss what I’m offering; he’d only demand more.
“Yes, that’ll do.” Before I can draw another breath, he has a knife in his hand, and he takes my hair with one slice of his blade.
I bite back my gasp at his speed. “Tell me.”
“I brought her to the king’s emissary in the traders’ market who was to escort her to the king. Madame Vivias couldn’t refuse the sum the traders offered.”
The king? My blood turns to ice in my veins, and I freeze all the way to my bones. “What king?”
“The emissary took her to His Highness, King Mordeus,” he says, “who paid a great deal to purchase your sister’s life.”
No. It can’t be. Buying or stealing my sister back from some random faerie is one thing, but getting her back from a fae king—from Mordeus, the Unseelie ruler, the shadow king himself? Where mortals consider the Seelie to be the “good” fae, the Unseelie kingdom is most dangerous and most lethal to humans. Their king has a reputation for finding pleasure in torturing creatures of all kinds. Humans who go to that kingdom rarely come back. If they do, they return as catatonic husks of themselves. On the other hand, this is the king who has countless human slaves. Perhaps he wouldn’t even notice if she went missing. “One human girl’s as good as the next. Why didn’t the king buy one of those girls who wants to go to Faerie?”
“Because he wants Jasalyn Kincaid, sister of the Fire Girl, daughter of the beautiful mortal who—”
“I know who my sister is,” I snap. This has to be a nightmare. It doesn’t make sense. “Why does he want her? Why Jasalyn?”
“It’s not mine to question the king. Perhaps he wants to make her his queen.” His sigh might pass for dreamy if his expression weren’t so . . . hungry. “Maybe he just loves her beautiful chestnut hair.”
“If he doesn’t want money, what does he want? What kind of payment can I offer?”