These Hollow Vows (These Hollow Vows, #1)(31)

With a careless shrug he sets my glass on a long table by the windows. As he drinks from his, he closes his eyes. “I understand that your sweet, golden prince hurt your feelings with his deception, but if you truly wish to save your sister, you need to do what Mordeus asks.”

He’d said the same thing in my dream. “You’re Unseelie,” I say. “Of course you want me to help your king.”

“He’s not my king,” he snaps, and the sharp declaration echoes off the office walls. “He will never be my king,” he adds, softer now.

“Why are you in the golden court? I thought the Unseelie weren’t welcome in Seelie territory.”

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll answer that question if you answer one of mine.”

The word deal triggers my defense mechanisms, but I’m too tired and emotionally wrung out to worry about all the ways I could potentially be manipulated by a deal with a faerie. “What’s your question?”

“What do you know about the faerie who gave you your magic?”

I frown. “What magic?”

He takes another sip of his wine and studies me with those mercurial eyes. “I’ll admit that it’s been many years since I’ve ventured to the human realm, but would you have me believe that humans can now walk through walls and turn themselves to shadow?”

I shake my head. “It’s just some strange reaction to being in a magical place.”

Finn tilts his head. “I don’t know what I find more interesting. The lie or that you truly want to believe it.” His lips curl, but there’s no amusement in his smile. Only disgust. “You know already, though. You know that the powers you have in my realm aren’t so new. You’ve been using them for years.”

A dry laugh bursts from my lips. “If you say so.”

“You’re a thief. A good one, too.”

How do these shadow fae know so much about me? “If I do have powers—and I’m not saying I do—why would you assume someone gave them to me?”

He narrows his eyes and lowers his voice. “Because humans don’t have magic unless it’s granted to them by a magical creature powerful enough to do so.”

“Witches have magic. And mages.”

“No. Witches and mages use magic. Symbols, spells, potions. Some humans are able to use magic, but they do not have it. Not like you do. You are a human who can wield darkness. You can become shadow and walk through walls—without spells or potions, without ritual. The magic is part of you, and the only way that’s possible is if a faerie granted it to you.”

“I don’t know where it came from,” I admit. Because he’s right. There’s part of me that knew long before coming to Faerie that my skills in night and shadow aren’t normal—that they’re something special. I open my mouth, considering telling him more, then snap it shut. His people have proved that they can’t be trusted. “Your turn.”

He studies his wine for so long I think he won’t answer. “Mordeus is my uncle.”

That’s the moment his name clicks into place for me. Bakken told me that Prince Finnian was the rightful heir to the Throne of Shadows—this is that Finn? “You’re the prince.” It’s not even a question. It explains everything. The way he moves, the way his friends defer to him, the way he feels like the most important person in the room, whether I want to believe he is or not. Yes, everything about Finn screams royalty. Power.

He lifts his eyes to meet mine. “You might have noticed the resemblance.”

The silver eyes. It’s not all shadow fae who have those silver eyes. Only the royal family.

“I don’t reside in my own court, because good old Uncle Mord wants me dead. Heartwarming, isn’t it?”

“What did you do?”

He grunts, as if my ignorance is amusing. “I was born, and that was enough to threaten his claim to the power he’s craved since his own father bestowed the crown upon my father. As for why I’m in the Seelie Court . . . I’m here temporarily, and”—he smirks—“covertly. I prefer the Wild Fae Lands to the golden queen’s territory, but there are matters here that require my attention.”

My mind reels with a hundred questions, but only one repeatedly shuffles to the top. “Why are you telling me this? What do you want from me?”

“I know Mordeus has your sister, and I know what he’s demanding from you in exchange for her.” He sips his wine. “I want to teach you how to use your gifts to protect yourself in this land. I want to help you.”

That’s what he’d said in my dream. I’ll help you get her back. Come find me.

“You keep saying that, but why should I believe you?” I back toward the door. “Your people abducted me and brought me here against my will, and you want me to trust you?”

His silver eyes flash and his mouth draws into a thin, tight line. “You chose to trust Mordeus by taking his deal.”

“I don’t have a choice. At least I understand what Mordeus wants from me and why. Am I supposed to believe that you want to help a human girl out of the goodness of your heart?”

He takes a menacing step forward, anger clear in every line of that beautiful face. “I want to help you because it helps my court. Every member of my court is weaker as long as our magical artifacts are missing. As long as the golden queen . . .” His nostrils flare, and he takes several shallow breaths, as if suffering some sudden, invisible pain. “They are vulnerable as long as the power of the courts is out of balance.”