These Hollow Vows (These Hollow Vows, #1)(66)
“Lady Abriella,” Emmaline says, curtsying as she steps into the room. “What can we do for you tonight?”
I never call for them, so the surprise on her face is expected.
“The prince told me there are some special festivities tonight.”
“Yes, milady. Tonight we celebrate Litha.”
“I would like to go. Would you help me dress?”
Emmaline blinks in confusion. I can’t blame her. In my two and a half weeks here, I’ve never cared about the seemingly endless dances happening around the castle. I go only when I’m required, and I’m usually so full of excuses that the twins have stopped trying to convince me otherwise. “Of course. I’m so sorry. We should have asked.”
I wave off her apology. “I only decided moments ago.” She beams, and I force myself to return her smile. “I suddenly feel like dancing.”
I wasted time with the mirror, but I won’t make the same mistake again. I can’t afford to. I will lock my guilt away tight and get whatever information I can out of Sebastian. And if he hates me forever once he learns how I used him . . . well, if that’s the price of saving Jas, it’s one I’m willing to pay.
* * *
By the time my maids dress me in a bell-sleeved gown of lightest purple and pin my hair into ringlets atop my head, the music and revelry are so loud, I can easily follow the noise to the celebration on the palace lawn.
I exit the palace and stop at the top of the stairs, awestruck by the sight below.
Litha, I learned from my maids, is a celebration lasting from dusk to dawn the night before summer solstice. Bonfires are lit all around the castle to honor the sun and bring in the longest day of the year. Smaller celebrations like this happen in the human realm, but I never bothered about them or understood why the masses would celebrate blessings in a world that seems to bless so few. But under the cool glow of the crescent moon, with food and wine aplenty and so much music and laughter, I can almost understand the need for such a spectacle of gratitude.
Slowly I descend the castle steps and venture onto the lawn. The fires are massive, with heat rolling off them. Just as a fine sweat breaks out on my brow, a server thrusts a cold glass of wine into my hand and walks away before I can decline.
“You came,” Sebastian says softly behind me.
Tensing, I turn to him, all too aware of the hurt I caused him earlier. “I can go back to my rooms if you want.”
“I’m pretty sure my problem lies in the fact that I don’t want that at all.” He looks me over slowly. “Though it seems you’re bent on torturing me with your beauty.” There’s no bite to the words, and he’s smiling when he meets my eyes again. “I’m glad you came.”
“I’m glad you’re glad.” I look him over and swallow. He’s not the only one feeling tortured. His white hair is swept back, tied at the base of his neck, and his golden tunic makes his shoulders look impossibly broad. My gaze dips for a beat, but I don’t dare let myself linger on the sight of his powerful thighs in his leather pants.
“I’m sorry about earlier. I had no right to—”
“No. I’m sorry,” I say. And it’s true. It might not change how I feel or what I must do, but I hate hurting him. Hate knowing that what I’m doing now will hurt him more. “I know I came here with prejudices, and I see now how unfair they were. I’m realizing that Faerie isn’t exactly what I thought it was.”
He searches my face. “Is that a good thing?”
“Mostly.” I try to find the words to explain the shift in my thoughts, and I’m not sure how. “I have trouble trusting people here, but trust never came easily for me back home either. Faerie might have its own problems, but the fae are no more cruel and selfish than humans.”
He studies my face, as if he might find all my lies and secrets written there. “And what does that mean for us?”
I step closer to him. When I take his hand, I feel every bit the traitor I am. “It means, I hope you won’t give up on me yet.”
His eyes widen and his nostrils flare. “I don’t know how to give up on you, Abriella.”
I’m too much of a coward to hold that beautiful gaze, so I drop his hand and look down at my wine. “This is Litha, then?” I ask, if only to fill the silence.
“It is. Though as you noticed, we’ll use any excuse to dance and drink wine to excess.”
“Can I ask why a celebration of the day is held at night?”
He scans the crowd, the fires, the musicians. “Because you can’t have the longest day of the year without the shortest night. And because we honor the sun by bringing the fires into the night. They’re lit before the sun sets and will burn until she rises, symbolically lighting even the short hours of darkness.”
“And what do the wine and dancing symbolize?”
“Our zest for life.” He grins, his gaze dropping to the untouched wine in my hand. “Is it bad?”
“I haven’t tried it.” I consider it a moment. The bubbles cling to the sides of the glass and sparkle in the firelight. “Doesn’t faerie wine make mortals lose their inhibitions?”
He laughs. “Much like mortal wine, that depends entirely on how much of it you drink.” He reaches for my glass and our fingers brush as he takes it. The single touch sends me back to my chambers, his hand on my waist, his mouth pressed to mine, and tingles race down my spine. He swirls the contents and sniffs it before handing it back to me. “It’s safe if you’d like to try it.”