These Hollow Vows (These Hollow Vows, #1)(80)

“I’ve just . . . heard people talking.”

“What people?”

The anger in his eyes worries me—not for myself, but for anyone I might implicate. After seeing him with Jalek, I’m not entirely sure who I’m dealing with. “I don’t know.”

“I can trust you, right, Brie?”

You can never trust a thief you’ve welcomed into your home. “Of course.” The lie is bitter on my tongue.

His shoulders relax. “I do, you know. For better or worse, I do.” He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles before leading me back to the palace and my room.

I lie awake half the night, the bitter taste in my mouth making my stomach cramp.



* * *



Pretha gets me from my chambers shortly after breakfast, and guilt dogs me with every step to the carriage and every turn toward Finn’s.

I can trust you, right, Brie?

He can’t trust me, and I have to keep that secret until Jas is home safe. When I consider the choice between Sebastian’s feelings and Jas’s freedom, the choice is obvious. It’s easy. So why do I feel this way?

“What’s wrong with you?” Pretha asks as the carriage stops in the village.

“Nothing.” I climb out behind her and we walk along in silence toward the house.

She stops at the front door. “Don’t lie to me, Brie. It’s a waste of time.”

“I just want my sister back. I want to find the damn book so Mordeus can tell me what’s next. I’m sick of everyone acting like we have all the time in the world. I want to finish this and get my sister and go home.” But my voice cracks on the last word. Home? Is that what it is? We can’t stay in Fairscape. Gorst will never stop hunting me down for stealing from him, and going back to Elora in any capacity means saying goodbye to Sebastian . . . and to Finn and Pretha and the whole misfit faerie crew.

When I look up, Pretha is studying me. Maybe it’s just the nature of Eurelody’s form, but her expression seems almost sympathetic. “Are you and Sebastian fighting?”

“Not at all.” I shake my head and look away. Across the cobblestone street, a faerie with angelic translucent wings and curled horns sweeps her front porch. “The problem is that he trusts me and I need him to, but I feel like garbage every time I exploit that.”

She frowns. “You’ve been put in an impossible situation.”

I wait for her to give me some sage advice on helping said impossible situation, but she just pushes inside and gestures for me to close the door behind me. She shifts back into her own form and leads the way to the library.

The doors at the back of the dark hall are closed, and Kane stands guard, arms crossed in front of him, his red eyes glowing in the dim corridor.

Pretha looks between him and the closed doors and frowns. “My brother’s here early?”

“The king and queen are speaking with Finn and Tynan now, but the queen is expecting you to join them for lunch.” Kane grimaces. “Do you want me to make excuses for you?”

Pretha shakes her head. “I knew this was coming. Lunch, dinner? Does it really matter?” Her tone is causal, but her gait, as she turns on her heel and storms to the sitting room, is anything but.

I look helplessly between Kane and the dark doorway where Pretha disappeared. “Should I leave her alone or . . .”

Kane turns up his palms. “Can’t you do the female thing?”

I arch a brow. “The female thing?”

He waves a hand. “You know, where you say the nice things and make her feel better even though she’s heartbroken and love’s a bitch?”

“Oh, I . . . Why’s that a female thing?”

He grunts. “You think I’m a good candidate for that job? I can’t even tell someone to have a good day without sounding like I secretly wish they’d die.”

He has a point. I frown, thinking this through. “She’s heartbroken? Over whom?”

He rocks back on his heels. “If you want to know, you should go do the thing.” I can tell by the way he looks after her that he hates not being able to be that kind of friend for her, but I’m not sure I’m a great candidate either.

Nevertheless, I find myself heading into the sitting room. Pretha’s standing at the front window, staring out at the street, her face blank, her eyes cold.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She tenses. “To admit there’s anything to talk about feels like a betrayal to my husband.”

Oh. Well, then . . . “When did Vexius die?”

“Four years ago. He was injured while taking a group of Unseelie refugees to a portal to the Wild Fae territory.” She swallows. “He didn’t recover.”

No wonder she looked so stricken when Finn was hurt under the same circumstances. “Four years is a long time. Surely you can forgive yourself for developing feelings for someone.”

She tears her gaze off the street and meets my eyes. I’ve never seen her look so old or so tired. “What I feel for Amira I felt long before I met Vexius. Long before either of us married.”

The name niggles at my memory. This is the meeting she’s been dreading. “Amira is the queen of the Wild Fae?”

Pretha nods and looks away again. “And my brother’s wife.”