These Hollow Vows (These Hollow Vows 1)

I kick hard, aiming to dislocate the creature’s jaw and barely moving it.

Pain sears through me as those teeth sink into my calf, and I scream as the muscle is torn away. I’m in over my head. I’m nothing against this place.

Low growls sound behind the creature, and two wolves pounce on it. For one pain-blurred moment I think they might be trying to protect me, but I’m delirious, and the rational part of my mind knows they’re probably fighting for territory.

Or fresh meat.

I try to stand as the smaller wolves work together to attack the beast, but the moment I put weight on my injured leg, I collapse to the forest floor.

I use the tree to pull myself back up, and a horrific roar rips through the forest. The wolves’ attention snaps away from the beast for one long beat before they turn and run . . . leaving me alone with the black, snarling creature.

It moves slower now—blood oozing from bites on its back—but not slow enough to make up for my maimed leg. I scramble backwards, trying to put all my weight on my good side and crying out when I collapse again.

The beast lunges, jaws wide, and I know it’s coming for my neck. Before it can reach me, an invisible wind lifts it from the ground and throws it into a tree across the clearing.

The creature screeches and collapses on the forest floor with one final cry.

“Abriella.” Sebastian is here, breathless. He scoops me up like I’m weightless and cradles me in his arms. “Brie? Are you okay?”

I nod against his chest, but I’m not okay. The pain in my leg is so blinding, nausea rolls through me, but it’s nothing compared with the defeated ache in my chest. I am so unequipped to take on this vicious world.

“Brie, your leg.” He shifts me in his arms, and I jerk away as he reaches for the wound. “Shh. Be still.” With a touch of his hand, the pain disappears.

I’m shaking so hard, and I take deep breath after deep breath to calm myself.

Sebastian smooths my hair off my face, tucking the loose strands behind my ears, and I realize that he’s the one who’s shaking. “I wanted to give you space, but I should have come after you. I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

I swallow. He looks . . . devastated. No matter how much his deception hurts, this is still Sebastian. He’s broken my trust, but my feelings for him haven’t disappeared because of who his mother is. They haven’t vanished because he can wield magic from within himself more effectively than anything he learned from Mage Trifen. “I’m okay.”

He runs a finger across my cheek, and when he pulls it away, I see blood. “I’m taking you back to the palace to see my healers.”

The pain is gone, but I feel off, as if I am losing my balance and slipping from existence, whether from Sebastian’s magic or a reaction to the creature’s bite. I need help. I need healers. I nod and cast one last look toward the body of the beast.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” Sebastian says again. “I’m so sorry.”

He carries me out of the forest to a clearing where a white stallion waits in the moonlight. Sebastian’s big hands are gentle—reverent—as he lifts me onto the horse. When he climbs on behind me, I relish the solid strength of him and the reassuring heat of his skin through his tunic. If I close my eyes, I can pretend we’re back in Fairscape and nothing has changed.

He wraps one arm around me, and taking the reins with his other hand, he urges the horse into a gallop.

With his breath in my ear, the steady beat of his heart against my back, the rhythm of the horse beneath me, my eyes grow heavier with every step. I’d slide off this horse if he weren’t holding me. My muscles refuse to work. I melt into his heat, his protective embrace, and I resent myself for the weakness.

By the time we arrive at the castle, keeping my eyes open is a losing battle.

He positions my hands on the stallion’s neck. “Hang on right there for a minute,” he instructs. He swings off the horse and hops to the ground, immediately reaching for me. Even half conscious, with a numb leg, I’m aware of every point of contact as he pulls me into his arms. He smells like the salt of the sea and the leather of his vest and pants. I jostle against his chest as he runs through the castle doors with me in his arms.

“Am I dying?” I ask against his chest, but I’m so tired there’s no urgency behind my words.

“The Barghest’s saliva is slowing your heart rate. If we don’t get you the antitoxin quickly . . .” He runs faster, and I close my eyes, unable to muster the energy to worry. I’m vaguely aware of the sound of people around us, quick steps on stone and doors opening and closing.