These Hollow Vows (These Hollow Vows, #1)(98)

I know this story. My mother used to tell us the story of the shadow king and the golden princess. When he doesn’t continue, I continue for him. “And one day Oberon came to the human realm, but Arya couldn’t make it. Her parents had discovered what she’d been doing, and they combined their magical powers to lock all portals between the human world and Faerie—keeping their daughter from reaching her lover and preventing the shadow king from returning home. The humans sacrificed innocents in an attempt to appease their gods and get the sun back.”

Is that what Bakken meant when he referred to the long night? The same long night I heard stories of when I was a child?

Sebastian waits as his eyes will me to go on.

“But no matter the prayers or the sacrifices, the humans couldn’t end the long night. They had no power over the portals, and the shadow king remained locked outside his world, searching for another way home. His magic grew weaker with every day, until he could no longer disguise his true form. With no magic to protect him from the humans and their prejudice, he was beaten and brutalized, the tips of his ears cut off and his face pulverized with their fists. It was then that he met the human woman. She found him outside her house and took pity on him, giving him the healing tonics she had. She couldn’t stand to see any creature suffer. She gave him a place to stay, tended to him, and used her potions to heal him. As the long night dragged on, they fell in love. He never forgot the golden fae princess, but his love for the woman was too intense to deny. When the portals reopened, he knew he had to return home, but the human refused to join him. She didn’t want to leave her world. Even so, the shadow king knew he could no longer be with the princess. His heart belonged to the human.”

Sebastian’s eyes flash with anger, and he picks up the story for me. “Meanwhile, in the Court of the Moon, the shadow king’s brother had swept in to take over his empire, capitalizing on his brother’s absence. Oberon returned to find that his brother had won the allegiance of half of the Unseelie court, and Oberon couldn’t return to his throne without risking a civil war his people couldn’t afford as the Great Fae War raged on.

“On the other side of the realm, my mother had taken her place as queen of the golden fae. She begged the shadow king to marry her as they once planned—if not for love, then for the good of their kingdoms. She promised that if they married, she would help him get his brother off his throne and then they could unite their courts and end the war between them. But Oberon refused. He wouldn’t even do it for peace between their peoples. He was no longer in love with her, and he still believed he might one day convince his mortal love to join him in his world.”

Sebastian stops his story there, so I finish it for him. “Then the queen cursed the Unseelie.”

I wait for him to confirm it, but he only freezes.

“You do know about the curse,” I say, “but you can’t speak of it.”

Again, it’s as if he can’t even nod in confirmation. “The most powerful magic in Faerie comes from its rulers,” he says. “My mother was the most powerful queen to ever take the throne, but wielding such great magic comes at a cost, one far worse than having an entire court hate her.”

“How could they not?” I ask, trying to keep my tone gentle.

“She ultimately saved thousands of fae lives by ending the war,” Sebastian says. “Oberon cared more about himself than about his people. He could have ended the war by marrying my mother, such a small sacrifice, but he refused. Whereas my mother’s sacrifice was enormous and saved thousands, but now she is dying to pay the price of . . .” He flinches, then swallows.

By cursing the Unseelie and making her own people helpless against them, I think, but I keep my mouth shut. The queen is his mother, and she’s dying. I can’t blame him for being blind to her mistakes if he feels like he’s losing her and powerless to stop it. “Why doesn’t she just lift the curse?”

When he only stares at me and doesn’t answer, I remember that he’s not able to speak so directly to the curse. The torment in his eyes weighs on me, and I wrap my arms around his waist.

His hands slide into my hair, and he pulls back as his fingers tangle with the shorter locks I hide beneath my thick curls. “What happened back here?” I lower my gaze, but he tilts my chin up so I’m looking at him. “You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

I already told him what I know about the curse, so I might as well explain how I learned it. “I gave Bakken some of my hair so he would tell me about the curse.” Again, the word curse makes him flinch—as if the word’s a knife in his back every time.

He slides his hand up the side of my face and toys with the locks of shorter hair framing my face. “And these?”

“Back in Elora. He told me that Mordeus bought Jas.” I shrug at his frown. “There are things you cannot tell me, and there are things I didn’t want you knowing I was doing.” There still are. “And I trust Bakken.”

“Goblins’ secrets aren’t usually so easily bought. He must . . . he must believe he has something to gain by staying on your good side. But be careful that you don’t rely too much on their kind. If they discover your weaknesses, they’ll take and take until you find you’ve given everything.”

I pinch his side gently. “Don’t look so worried, Sebastian. I have more where that came from.”