These Hollow Vows (These Hollow Vows 1)

Is this why Mordeus wanted me to steal it? Yes, for the powerful magic, but also because he knows it’s tied to the queen’s life? Is that why Finn wants me to steal it?

I swallow back the uncomfortable lump in my throat. “You really love your mother, don’t you?”

He blinks, and his expression is pained. Conflicted. “I’m not blind to her faults, but she is my mother, and she’s sacrificed so much for our court . . . perhaps even more so for me.”

If I give the book to Mordeus and Arya dies, the curse will be broken and Jas will be safe. But Sebastian will never forgive me. And if Mordeus uses the book to destroy the lives of more innocent fae, I may never forgive myself.

* * *

When the palace staff serves us dinner, I’m still thinking of Finn and the Throne of Shadows and Sebastian’s warnings that whatever Finn keeps in his catacombs will prove his true nature.

“Brie?”

I lift my head at the sound of my name and find Sebastian staring at me across the table. How long has he been waiting for me to answer? Judging by his half-empty plate, I’ve been zoning out for a while.

“Where is that mind of yours?”

I blow out a breath. “I’m so sorry, Sebastian. I’m lost in my thoughts tonight.” I look around the dining room and realize that I haven’t even taken in the details of the romantic dinner that was probably prepared to impress me.

Candles line the table, and day lilies overflow from vases in every corner of the room. I’ve pushed my food around more than eaten it, and I’m more than a little disgusted with myself. The old me would be disgusted too. Not only am I eating mouthwatering dishes while children in the human realm go without, I’m here with Sebastian. How many times before entering the portal did I wish we could have more time together? And it seemed we never were alone. If Jas wasn’t with us, my cousins were close by, ready to report anything they heard or saw to my aunt.

“What are you thinking now?”

“I’m thinking how quickly I’ve come to take these luxuries for granted.” I wave a hand, indicating my plate. “I know better than to disregard the blessing of a full belly, yet after only a few weeks, I can sit here feeding myself and not even taste the delicious flavors. Meanwhile, my sister . . .” My throat squeezes tight at the words.

Sebastian reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Despite all he does to maintain his power, the king is weaker than ever. It’s only a matter of time until we’re close enough to act. I haven’t given up.”

But what happens to us after Jas is safe? I don’t give voice to the question. He’s as eager for an answer as I am, and I don’t have one yet. Do I want to stay with Sebastian? Do I want to live in a castle with the queen who is responsible for the curse and the horrible treatment of the Unseelie in her camps? If what Sebastian says is true and she’s dying, perhaps that means the curse will soon be broken. If her possession of the Grimoricon is the only thing keeping her alive . . .

To end the curse and live, you must kill the queen. The memory of Bakken’s words makes my stomach heave. If I kill his mother on top of everything else, I will truly lose Sebastian.

“I can practically see you drifting away on your thoughts.” Chuckling, he wipes his mouth with his napkin, then reaches for a decanter of wine, tilting it to fill our glasses. “Drink with me and let go for an hour.”

After he goes to bed, I will have to go to the library and make a plan for the Grimoricon. I initially planned on taking it immediately—it kills me to wait—but Sebastian might be suspicious if it’s missing when he takes me back to the library tomorrow. And since I have no replica of this relic, I will need to wait.

I can give him an hour. After all he’s done for me, all he’s endured and is likely to endure, he deserves that and more. And maybe I deserve it too. An hour.

I lift my glass to my lips and drink. Within minutes, my worries fall away.

Chapter Thirty

SEBASTIAN SPINS ME AROUND and presses my back against a tall wooden door. “This is your room,” he whispers against my lips.

My skin is warm, my cheeks flushed from the wine, and my heart full from the conversation. One hour turned to two, and it was like old times—just the two of us, talking and laughing.

“This is where I’m supposed to say good night.” His hands drift slowly down my sides—fingertips leaving a burning trail in their wake. When he reaches my hips, he squeezes gently.