These Hollow Vows (These Hollow Vows, #1)(13)

He taps one long, dirty fingernail against his front teeth. “King Mordeus cares for nothing more than securing his seat on the throne.”

I shake my head. “He’s the king. Why would he need to secure anything?”

“But some say he isn’t, not truly. Mordeus stole the throne from his brother many years ago and waits for the day when his nephew—Prince Finnian, son of King Oberon and rightful heir to the Throne of Shadows—emerges from exile to claim his crown. His subjects wait too. Some have pledged loyalty to the king and will fight to keep him in power. Others believe that the Unseelie Court is dying because of Mordeus’s trickery and that it won’t recover until the rightful heir is on the throne with Oberon’s crown.”

I normally wouldn’t care at all about Faerie politics, but I make myself tuck this information away in case it proves useful later. “What does this have to do with getting Jas back?”

His lips peel back from his yellowed, pointy teeth in a smile. “Do not underestimate King Mordeus. He does nothing by accident. Every choice he makes is about power—his power.”

I can’t wrap my head around it. Jasalyn’s never had dealings with the fae—at least none that I know of. What kind of power could the king get by enslaving her? Could this have something to do with our mother? But that doesn’t make sense. If, for some reason, the king requested her for our mother, wouldn’t she want both her daughters, not just her youngest? And why would she suddenly care about us after nine years? “Take me to my sister. Please.”

Bakken focuses on the lock of my cut hair in his fingers and strokes it lovingly. “The Unseelie kingdom is a dangerous place for a human girl, even for a Fire Girl. You’re better off forgetting about your sister and enjoying your newfound freedom.”

“That’s not an option.”

He tucks my hair into a pocket. “I cannot take you, but for another lock, I can tell you.”

I don’t even think before offering him a nearly identical lock from the opposite side.

His eyes dance as he slices it off. “At midnight, the river portal will open for the celebration of the Seelie prince’s birth. There you can enter the Seelie Court and find the queen’s secret portal to the Court of the Moon. It opens only once each day, when the clock strikes midnight.”

This makes me pause. “Why would the Seelie queen have a portal to the Unseelie Court? I thought they were sworn enemies.”

Bakken’s stroking his new lock of hair and barely paying any attention to me. He answers absently, the way one hums a tune they’ve heard a thousand times. “Once, the golden queen was but a princess. She loved Oberon, the shadow king, and sacrificed dearly for a way to see him in secret. Her kingdom had been at war with the Court of the Moon for centuries, and her parents would have never allowed her to visit.”

I frown. That’s the tale my mother used to tell us at bedtime—the golden princess and the shadow king. “I thought that story was just legend. It’s true?”

“Where do you think legends begin, if not from truth?”

Suddenly I wish I could remember more of Mother’s stories, but it’s been so long and I’ve recalled them with so much resentment for years. I shake my head, focusing on the issue at hand. “Where’s the portal?”

“You’ll find it in her childhood wardrobe—a massive armoire marked with wings on each door. She’s never been able to bring herself to destroy it.”

I swallow hard. Go to the Seelie Court, find the queen’s secret portal to enter the most dangerous place in Faerie, find my sister, and rescue her from a power-hungry king. Child’s play.

Bakken’s eyes flick to mine, and he frowns. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bracelet made of fine silver threads. He offers it to me with an open hand. “Take it. No one but you will be able to see it or feel it on your wrist.”

I’ve heard of goblin bracelets, but I’ve never seen one. The silver threads are so fine they’re nearly invisible, but they glitter in the candlelight.

“Each thread represents a story of Faerie. Stories are power, Fire Girl. If you need me, simply break a thread, and I’ll appear.”

“If I break one of these”—I finger the threads gently before meeting his gaze—“you’ll help me?”

He nods. “Yes. Though I cannot save you from mortal peril, so don’t bother with it if you’re to become some beast’s next meal. But with information, for travel within the realm, I can help.”

“At what cost?”

His grin is more devious than comforting. “But a lock of hair. Or teeth if you’d prefer.”

My hand shakes as I take it from him. “What if I break a thread by accident?”

“Goblin threads don’t break accidentally. There must be intent.”

I slide the bracelet over my hand, and it magically tightens around my wrist. “Thank you, Bakken.” I reach for the door and step into the hall.

“Fire Girl!” Bakken says, stopping me. “Remember, the shadow king is clever. He’ll play you against your fate for his own benefit.”

Play me against my fate? What does that even mean? Faerie riddles. “I don’t believe in fate, Bakken. All I care about is my sister.”

“Ah yes, and the king knows that.”