These Hollow Vows (These Hollow Vows 1)

And yet we haven’t spoken since our discussion over tea in the kitchen. There’s no reason he would spend his limited time with me when he knows I’m not interested in being his bride. I should be glad for that—I’ve had more time to search—but it’s hard to let go of feelings I’ve harbored for Sebastian for two years.

“I’m sure he’ll spend time with you soon,” Tess says. She ties off the braid and starts on the other side. “And anyway, he probably knows you’re not available.”

“I’m not?”

“You’ll meet your tutor today.”

I frown. “Tutor? For what?”

“All the girls are assigned tutors. Should the young prince choose you as his bride, you’ll need to be prepared. Your tutor will refine your habits and manners, attending to you on a personal level.”

“Can’t you do that?” I ask. I like my maids, and I’ve become accustomed to them. I don’t want to have another person watching me.

Emmaline laughs from the bathroom, where she’s cleaning the tub. “We are not ladies,” she says, poking her head out the door. “Simply servants.”

“But I bet you could teach me anything my tutor could.”

The twins look at each other. I can’t tell if they’re amused or baffled by me. Perhaps both. “In any case,” Tess says, “your tutor will arrive any minute. Her name is Eurelody, and she’s worked with the queen’s historians for over a century. You’re lucky to have her.”

Over a century. Maybe she’ll know about the queen’s schedule and when Arya’s expected to travel away from the castle. If I can find a discreet way to inquire . . .

“Can we get you anything before we go?” Emmaline asks.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

I don’t know why I assumed that Sebastian was out of the castle just because he hasn’t been to see me. Maybe I offended him with my comments about his sacred traditions.

Or maybe he’s trying to find a bride.

“Lost in thought, I see,” a soft voice says behind me.

I turn to see a short, chubby faerie with rosy cheeks and pointed ears. Her translucent wings barely fit through the doorway. I make myself smile. It’s not her fault that I have no interest in our time together. “Hello. You must be Eurelody. I’m Abriella.”

The woman gives me a quick once-over and, seeming to find my attire acceptable, turns back to the door. “Very good. Let’s get out of the palace for a while, shall we?”

My breath catches. Until this moment, I hadn’t realized how claustrophobic I was feeling being stuck inside these walls. After nearly dying in the forest, I didn’t dare disobey Sebastian’s order to stay within the palace gates, but surely I’ll be safe if I’m with Eurelody.

She’s already heading down the hall, and I have no choice but to follow. “Where are we going?”

She doesn’t bother slowing or looking back at me as she answers. “If you want to be a princess, you need to meet your future subjects.”

* * *

The carriage is comfortably appointed with cushions, and draperies across the windows for privacy. Eurelody and I sit knee to knee as we leave the castle grounds, and I’m well aware of her attention on me as I watch the changing landscape outside. I don’t bother filling the silence, and neither does she. Instead, I focus on the rolling green hills, the forest in the distance, and the mountains beyond. Even knowing how dangerous those woods are, I can’t help but find them lovely. Everything in Seelie territory glows with the lush green of late spring. I wonder if Unseelie territory is the same or if the shadow fae suffer perpetual winter.

Miles from the castle, we turn into a quaint village. The carriage jostles on the cobblestones, jarring me this way and that before coming to a sudden stop.

“We’re here,” Eurelody says.

Half-timbered houses line streets where faeries of all kinds hawk their wares to passersby. The smell of fresh bread and pastries fills the air from one merchant’s cart. Another merchant pours a sample of wine for a patron while others sell flowers, beautiful fabrics, and jewelry.

Fairscape has a market like this. When I was a child, my mother would take us along when she ran errands for the wealthy family who employed her. They would send her for candles and clothing, for art for the walls of their massive home. If we behaved, Mother would buy us a tiny candy each. I used to imagine that we were shopping for ourselves, that we were the ones who could afford such luxuries.

“What are those little faeries?” I ask Eurelody, nodding to the tiny airborne creatures with butterfly wings.

“Hush, girl.” She shakes her head and tugs me by the arm toward a narrow lane opposite the village market. Nearly identical houses line the road, and she leads me up the front steps of the third. The door creaks as it opens, and she drags me inside and throws herself against it to shut it. “Sprites,” she says, wagging a finger at me, “do not like being called little.”