These Hollow Vows (These Hollow Vows 1)

“I’m sorry,” I finally say. It’s not enough, and it only brushes against what I want to explain—that we’re running out of options, that I love how much he values our safety, that I’ll do everything in my power to come back home—if only because I desperately want to see him again.

Sebastian lifts his head, and those sea-green eyes seem to see right through me. He searches my face. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for humans in Faerie?”

“Sure I do, but—”

“So don’t go.”

My fingers itch to reach out and touch him. To stroke the side of his jaw or grab his muscled forearms. He’s never hinted that he has the same feelings for me that I harbor for him, so I’ve never allowed myself that sort of connection with him. I’ve never had the courage to risk rejection, keeping my feelings secret from everyone—even Jas. “If our debt gets much worse, we’ll never escape it. Even now, it would take . . .”

He squeezes his eyes shut. I know he hates that he can’t help us. He’s given us money before, but he’s only an apprentice. He doesn’t have the resources to make a dent in what we owe to Madame V.

When he opens his eyes, he studies me for a long time. So long that my cheeks heat. My skin tingles. My breath comes short as I wait for his soft lips to find their way toward mine.

“Just hold off a little longer,” he finally says. “Just hold off until I can help. Someday I’ll end your contract. I’ll free you from her.”

I know he believes it, but—

“I promise we’ll be safe,” I say. It’s not the promise he wants, so I stand and wipe my sweaty palms on my pants. I was foolish to think he might kiss me, foolish to focus on that when we’re arguing about something so important. “I have to go get ready for work.”

There’s something in his eyes I’ve never seen before. Desperation.

I walk away because I understand that emotion all too well.

I’ve taken three steps when he says, “What if he’s not what you think?”

I stop and turn back to see him stand. “What?”

“Prince Ronan. What if you end up . . . what if you realize you could like him?”

I shake my head. “Bash, I’m not going in hopes of becoming a faerie princess. I’m not that girl.”

“But if he isn’t what you expect . . . if he’s better than you’ve let yourself believe?”

I fold my arms. “Are you worried I’m going to fall for a faerie?” Are you worried I’ll forget you? Because I promise I won’t. I couldn’t.

“Abriella . . .”

“What?”

His throat bobs as he swallows. “Just promise me you’ll do everything you can to be safe. If you go to the ball, you’ll be under the queen’s protection, but if you wander off her land, that protection no longer applies.”

“I know how it works, Sebastian. I promise.”

With a single step, he closes the distance between us. He touches my cheek with two fingers and tucks an errant lock of hair behind my ear. I’m entranced by the sensation of his rough calluses against my skin.

A cackling laughter cleaves the air behind me. I spin around to see Cassia standing in the courtyard, her hands on her hips. Her blond hair is piled in carefully pinned curls on top of her head, and her breasts nearly spill from her mint green dress. “Here I thought you’d be crying and moaning, but you aren’t losing any tears over her at all, are you?”

What is she blathering about now?

Sebastian puts a comforting hand on my arm, and I just shake my head, prepared to ignore my cousin’s jealous nonsense.

“Now that little sister’s out of the way, you can finally score the hunky apprentice? Is that how this works?”

I roll my eyes. “What are you talking about?”

She grins, blue eyes bright. “You don’t know? You’re officially too far behind on your payments, and Mother has had enough. Bakken just took Jasalyn to the faerie traders.” She makes fists with both hands and then opens them dramatically. “Poof! Gone. Just like that.”

Chapter Three

I BARGE INTO MADAME VIVIAS’S OFFICE, sending the door slamming against the wall so hard the pictures rattle on the walls. “Where is she?”

My aunt doesn’t even startle. She puts down her pen and pats her head, adjusting the perfect bun of dark hair she spells to keep lustrous and thick. “Hello, Abriella. Congratulations on your freedom.”

“No,” I breathe, but I see it—the pile of ash on the corner of her desk, all that remains of a magical contract once it’s fulfilled. “Why?”

“I had to cut my losses at some point.” She folds her arms across her chest and leans back in her chair. “I could’ve done this months ago, but I was waiting to see if you could catch up.”