These Hollow Vows (These Hollow Vows, #1)(19)

In my rush to get across the ballroom, I bump into a broad male figure. “So sorry. Excuse me.” I don’t look up, but keep walking forward.

“Are you okay?” His voice is deep and melodic. Something tugs in me at the sound, and I can’t resist turning back to him.

My breath catches at the sight of a tall male with light brown skin. This is no simple faerie. He’s stunning. His dark hair hangs to his angular jawline in a shaggy mop of curls. His silver eyes glow like moonlight and are framed by thick, dark lashes. If he were a human, I’d guess him to be in his early twenties, but there’s something about his posture and the hard lines of his face that make him seem much, much older. His full, lush mouth tilts in a frown as he studies me, then offers a hand. “A dance, milady?”

“What? No.” I have to stay focused. I don’t need this gorgeous fae male distracting me.

His eyes widen, as if he’s never been rejected before. With those looks, I wouldn’t be surprised. “Then perhaps a walk in the gardens?”

“Back off. I’m not interested in—”

The sound of my cousins’ laughter approaches, and I peek over my shoulder to see them coming closer.

“Fine. Let’s dance,” I blurt, shoving my hand into his.

His lips twitch, but he accepts my hand and leads me onto the dance floor. “It would be my pleasure.”

From a stage at the front of the room a full orchestra plays a heart-rending melody. The song isn’t one I’ve ever heard, but it makes my limbs ache to match the rhythm, to move with the beat.

The male I’m dancing with holds my gaze as he leads me across the floor. Chandeliers glitter above us, orbs of light floating on a soft breeze. Something about the dance—about the way we sway together—reminds me of how free I feel when I move through the dark. It’s relaxing and intoxicating all at once. It’s a high I don’t want to let go. And when he studies my face and whispers, “So beautiful,” I can’t remember a single worry.

The song changes, and another faerie cuts in, taking my hand before the silver-eyed male can lead me off the floor.

Could it hurt? To indulge in another dance before I risk everything in my search for my sister? Could it hurt to give myself just a few moments to imagine a life where every day wasn’t a struggle, where I could live like these faeries—dancing and drinking wine, laughing over petty nonsense?

My body and the song become one, and as the orchestra picks up the beat—as the bows move faster over the strings and the flutist’s fingers race over the keys—my muscles anticipate every note and rhythm. I’m passed from one partner to the next, and I feel as graceful as the fae. I dance and dance and dance until I can hardly breathe, until my lungs burn and my feet ache.

The faces of my partners are a blur. I don’t care who or what they are as I’m lifted away from my problems and out of my wretched life by this magical movement and song.

Smiling and feeling lighter than I have in months, my hips swish to the beat, my shoulders rolling languidly. Before I know it, I’m in the center of the floor, dancing and letting faerie after faerie lead me. I lift my arms over my head and wave them in the air to the beat. The tremendous weight of all my responsibilities lifts from my shoulders. I’m free for the first time in years. Maybe for the first time ever. This dance is freedom.

Someone shoves a glass of wine in my hand, and I contemplate the liquid while I continue to move. I feel so good, and I know the wine will make me feel even better. All I have to do is drink.

Something nudges the back of my mind. Something about this wine. Something I’m supposed to remember. But . . . I lift it to my lips. I want more dancing, more joy, more delicious freedom. The goblet is yanked away before it can touch my lips, and then I’m wrapped in strong arms and pulled off the dance floor.

I fight against him, trying to return to where I belong—to the music, the beat, the comforting sway of hips and blur of motion, the quickening arpeggio.

“Enough,” he whispers in my ear.

“No.” The word is a plea.

He drags me away from the dancers and the lovely melody and into a quiet hallway outside the ballroom. At the end of the corridor, a window reveals the sun sinking into the horizon, casting the land in the yellow-orange glow of twilight.

The music loosens its grip on my mind, and I swallow hard as my senses return. Drop by drop, like water filling a cup, my thoughts fall back into order.

Jas. I need to save Jas.

I’m trapped in a faerie’s hold. My arms are pinned to my sides. He’s too strong. Too big. I can’t fight him.

“You need to catch your breath,” he says against my ear.

I yank out of the male’s arms and spin on him. It’s the silver-eyed faerie I first danced with. “Is that . . .” I force myself to draw in a deep breath and stare dumbfounded at the window at the end of the hall. “Is that sunset?”

He scoffs, narrowing his eyes at me. “Did time get away from you?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, cursing myself. I should’ve known better, but I let myself be drugged by their music. I lost hours that I was supposed to be using to search the castle—to get to Jas. And I almost drank faerie wine. Fool. “I’m fine.”

“You are now.” He nods to my wrist. “That’s an interesting scar.”