These Hollow Vows (These Hollow Vows 1)

When Finn stands, his gaze locks on the hand I pulled away from him. “Abriella, every star in that sky shines for you.”

It’s not until the door swings closed behind him that I realize he called me by my given name.

* * *

The days after we rescued Jalek from the queen’s dungeons stretch long. Finn makes good on his promise to give me a break from training, but being stuck at the palace all day feels more like a punishment than a reprieve, especially without Sebastian around. When I found Riaan training on the roof, he told me his prince was “away.” Since I haven’t seen Sebastian since Litha, I don’t know what he or the queen thought about their prisoner disappearing—not that Sebastian would tell me anyway.

The second evening after Litha, I’m pacing my room, bored out of my mind and frustrated that I’m at a standstill on the book. I’m wondering how to contact Pretha when I decide to ask the mirror to show me Jas again. My chest goes tight at the sight of my little sister, as it does every time I see her through the mirror.

She’s sewing and telling the story of the faerie princess who fell in love with the shadow king. “When the golden princess’s parents learned their daughter was meeting the shadow king in the mortal realm, they combined their magical powers to lock all the portals between the human world and Faerie—keeping their daughter from reaching her lover and preventing the shadow king from returning home.”

When the image fades, I start to put the mirror down but decide to try something else.

“Show me my mother.” I stare at my own reflection for so long I think it’s not going to work, but then she appears.

I haven’t seen my mother in nine years, but the woman in the mirror looks exactly as I remember her—tall and graceful, with the same chestnut hair as Jasalyn. It’s braided and wrapped into a coronet atop her head. She’s walking through a cemetery, and she stops at one gravestone and sinks to her knees. The setting sun makes the red highlights in her hair shine, and my chest aches a little with unexpected longing. She was such a good mom. We laughed together, and she told us stories. She always wanted to play games and take long walks with us. She always put us first.

Until she didn’t.

That’s the real reason I need to guard my heart against Sebastian. Loving a faerie can make you lose yourself. It can make you forget what matters most. My mother did.

Why is she in the cemetery? Could that be the grave of the faerie she loved? I scan the image in the mirror over and over. Something about this looks familiar. Then I realize what it is. This is the same cemetery Finn took me to when he wanted to show me what my power could do. It’s not far from here at all.

The image in the mirror fades, and I make a quick decision. I loop a leather satchel over one shoulder and slide the mirror inside. Then I run toward the cemetery, a golden stripe of the evening sun the only light left along the horizon.

If my mother is so close, maybe she can help me get Jas back. I know the faerie she loved was important—a noble fae, she said, a male who loved his people and cared for them enough to sacrifice his own happiness. Maybe he has some sort of connection to the Unseelie king. Maybe she could get him to release Jas before I finish retrieving his artifacts. Even if she doesn’t have pull, it would be a relief to have her close. To have someone to confide in and know I’m not alone in this.

My soft dress shoes weren’t made for running on this rough stone ground. The rocks bite into the bottoms of my feet, but I don’t slow down until I reach the graves I saw in the mirror.

The cemetery stands empty, and I spin around, hoping to see where she may have gone.

“Mother!” I call. “Mom?” My voice cracks, and with it something in my chest leaks out.

I pull the mirror out again. “Show me my mother.”

The image shows a tomb, a rotting corpse lying in darkness, her arms crossed over her chest.

I drop the mirror as if it burned me. “No.” I back away from it. No. Sebastian said it might not work for mortals. Just because it’s worked until now . . . No. This means nothing.

A cold breeze whips through the gravestones, and the last of the sun disappears, but I’m not ready to go back to the palace.

I swallow hard and force myself to pick up the mirror and shove it into my satchel. That image meant nothing.