These Hollow Vows (These Hollow Vows 1)

“And thanks to us,” Nik says, reaching for the gauze, “you’re going to be short again.”

“Worth it,” I whisper.

Nik squeezes her eyes shut. “This world is so screwed up.” There’s no way Fawn can hear us unless she’s listening at the door, but Nik lowers her voice anyway. “I have a friend who could give you work.”

I frown. “What kind of work?” There’s none that can earn me the kind of money I need. None except— “I might as well work for Creighton Gorst if I’m going to do that.”

“Creighton would take half your earnings.” Nik wraps my hand and gives me a sad smile. “There are fae who pay a premium for the company of a beautiful human and more if you’ll bind yourself to them. Far more than Creighton can offer.”

“Faeries?” I shake my head. I’d sooner get involved with Creighton’s handsy clients than give myself over to a faerie. My people used to believe the faeries were our guardians. Before they split the sky and opened the portals, the fae visited at twilight in their spirit forms—just a shadow or an outline in the trees that looked like something living.

My people called them angels. They’d kneel and pray for the angels to stay close, to protect them, to watch over their sick children. But when the portals opened and the angels were finally here, they didn’t protect us at all.

Because the fae aren’t angels. They’re demons, and they came to exploit us, to steal babies and use humans as their slaves and their breeding stock. They tricked thousands into signing over their lives to fight in their wars. Only when the Magical Seven of Elora, the seven most powerful mages from this world, came together did we guard the portals against them. Now they can take a human life only if it’s fairly purchased or freely given—a magical safeguard that the clever faeries have created a hundred workarounds for. In practice, this protects only the rich and powerful.

“Better than nothing,” say so many who support the Seven. “It’s a start.” Or worse, “If people don’t want to be sold to the fae, they shouldn’t take on so much debt.”

“Why would they pay when they can just glamour women into giving them whatever they want?” I ask Nik.

“Keep your voice down!” She cranes her neck to check that the door behind her is still closed. “Not everything you hear about them is true. And my friend can—”

“It’s out of the question. I’ll find another way.” If I know anything, it’s that I’ll never trust the fae.

“I’m worried about you,” Nik says. “In this world, the only power we have is in our autonomy. Don’t let anyone back you into a corner. Don’t let your desperation make decisions for you.”

Like it did for Fawn. “I won’t,” I promise, but it feels hollow, as if my voice already knows it’s a lie. I’m working all the time and stealing as much as I can get away with, but I can’t keep up.

Even if I were okay with selling my body—and I’m not—I don’t want anything to do with the fae. I don’t care how much money they offer. There are more important things in life than money. Even more important things than freedom—like taking care of your two little girls and not abandoning them so you can run off with your faerie lover.

* * *

“I hear you, girl,” Madame Vivias says the second my hand hits the knob for the basement.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I should’ve come in through the cellar door. It’s after midnight, and I have no energy for whatever task she’s planning to give me. Lowering my head, I turn to her and give a brief curtsey. “Good evening, Aunt V.”

“Good evening. Tomorrow’s the full moon.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You have my money?”

I keep my gaze leveled on the hand propped on her hip—a sparkling ring on every finger. Any one of those rings could cover this month’s payment. I don’t lift my head. I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing the fear in my eyes. “I’ll have it tomorrow, ma’am.”

She’s silent for so long that I dare to lift my gaze to hers. She’s adjusting the thick strands of glittering jewels hanging from her neck and scowling at me. “If you don’t have it today, what are the chances you’ll have it tomorrow?”

Not very good. But until it’s officially too late, I won’t admit it. Every time we’re short, our contract grows longer and our payment higher. It’s a vicious cycle we can’t seem to escape. “I’ll pay you tomorrow, ma’am.”

“Abriella!” The shrill cry comes from the stairs, and I have to fight my flinch at my cousin Cassia’s voice. “My dresses need washing!”

“There are fresh dresses in your room,” I say. “I pressed them this morning.”

“None of those will do. I don’t have anything to wear to dinner tomorrow night.”