These Hollow Vows (These Hollow Vows 1)

Finn folds his arms. “I’m not sure the girl wants to work with us.” There’s a challenge in his voice. As if I’m a child and he’s working me through reverse psychology.

I press my back against the wall and will myself to push through it, to escape. Nothing happens. How did I use my power before?

Pretha crosses the room, heading toward me. “You can’t do this alone,” she tells me.

I shake my head. “You’re wrong.” I’ve been working alone my whole life. Nothing needs to change now. Like the inverse of a flickering lamp, I fade to shadow and back to my corporeal self.

Panicked, Pretha spins on Finn. “What’s she doing?”

Shadow. Turn to shadow. My hand disappears and appears, but the wall behind me holds firm.

“Finn!” Pretha’s eyes are wide. “She’s going to escape.”

Shadow. This time when my hand disappears, the rest of my arm goes too. I melt into the wall and stumble through it. My dress tangles in a rosebush on the outside of the tavern, proving once again that pants are the wiser clothing choice. I scramble upright, and the thorns rip my skirt and tear at my legs.

I can hear Finn and Pretha argue through the cracked window, but their angry words are muffled until Finn barks a final, clear command. “Let her go.”

I hoist my dress up and run, but I don’t know where I am and the fog is too thick to see the castle in the distance.

I know the forest was ahead of me when I fled Sebastian, but now it’s to my left. I turn, putting my back to the woods, but nothing in that direction looks familiar.

The forest. I can hide there—I can turn myself to shadow and nothingness and hide until I can find my way back to the castle. Because I have to go back to the castle.

If Sebastian’s delayed his selection, perhaps I can still make this work. There’s still a chance to save Jas.

The forest is darker than any in Fairscape—the canopy of leaves dense and the lights of the homes beyond dimmer than those from my overpopulated part of the world. A horrible cry tears through the night, followed by a triumphant howl. I’ve never been scared of the dark, but I know enough to be scared of this dark. I don’t know half of what lives in these trees. Maybe my shadows can hide me, but can they protect me?

The summer heat has gone with the sun, and I wrap my arms around myself as I scan the forest, my eyes adjusting to the darkness.

Another howl, this one closer, and terror trembles through my muscles. You know that the powers you have in my realm aren’t so new. You’ve been using them for years.

Normal humans can’t see in the dark like this. I knew that, didn’t I? I just didn’t want to admit it to myself, didn’t want to admit that there was some piece of faerie inside me.

But knowing you have a tool is a far cry from knowing how to use it. I have no idea where I am. No idea which way to the castle. And no idea how to use my power to protect myself from whatever lives in these woods.

A low growl sounds from twenty yards away. I spin and freeze in terror. Gold-flecked, glowing blue eyes flash in the dark, and a black wolf with bared teeth slinks toward me.

Chapter Nine

NOT A WOLF. EVEN IN A CROUCH, this animal’s head is nearly as high as I am tall. A tongue darts out between long, fanged teeth, and it prowls toward me one slow step at a time.

I have no weapons but my fickle magic and nowhere to hide but in a forest this creature undoubtedly knows better than I do.

The branches of an oak tree flare out above me, but the ones within my reach are spindly and look too weak to hold my weight. Several feet away is maple tree with sturdy lower branches. If I sprint and jump, I might be able to climb high enough before the wolf-thing can reach me.

A low snarl, and it creeps closer, as black as night, the promise of death in its eyes.

Take a deep breath and run, Brie.

Turning, I sprint forward, then cut to my left as fast as my dress will allow. The creature lunges toward me, moving too fast for something so massive. I jump, reaching as high as I can even as the feel of the beast’s breath warms the skin on the back of my neck. My fingertips brush the branch, and the bark bites into my skin as I grapple for a better grip.

I curl my fingers to claws, trying to hold on, but I slip. Time moves in slow motion as I fall toward to the forest floor and the beast’s snapping maw.