These Hollow Vows (These Hollow Vows, #1)(20)

My heart squeezes at the reminder of Jas. She always called my scar my “moon and sun.” One side looks like a crescent moon and the other a glowing sun. “I was caught in a fire as a child. I’m lucky I survived.” I snap my mouth shut. I don’t need to tell him anything, but his charm nearly unravels me. He can’t seem to take his eyes off the mark.

“But was it—” He snaps his gaze down the hall, tensing. “The queen is coming.”

I don’t know if that’s supposed to be a warning or if he simply doesn’t want me to miss it. I wave toward the ballroom. “Please, return to the party.”

His eyes flash. “Don’t let her see your scar.”

What? Why? I don’t have a chance to ask, because he bows from the hips—a full bow from a fae noble, a gesture reserved for their highest ranks. Then he disappears into the crowd inside the ballroom doors. Part of me wants to follow him and demand that he explain what he means about my scar, but I won’t risk returning to the ballroom and that music. I can’t waste any more time.

I pull a pin from my skirt, and the dress falls away, leaving me in the simple thin silk I arrived in. I back into the shadows, breathing a sigh of relief that the encounter is over, even as I catch myself replaying what it felt like to dance in his arms and the look on his face when he whispered So beautiful. Did he mean the music? The dance? Why do I want to believe he was talking about me? Why do I care?

Then I hear it—heavy steps coming my way. A dozen sentries come into view, marching in step on either side of a robed elven female wearing a sparkling golden crown.

Even I am awed by the sight of her, Arya, golden queen, ruler of the Court of the Sun. Her hair shines like spun gold, and her skin glows like morning sunlight reflecting off the water. And her eyes . . . her eyes don’t match the rest of her. The blue should be stunning, but instead it strikes me as empty—lonely.

Once upon a time, a golden faerie princess fell in love with the shadow king . . .

Did the king break her heart?

Shaking my head, I force myself to focus. The silver-eyed male was right about one thing: I can’t let the queen or her sentries see me. I need to stay hidden so I can sneak through the castle while the rest of her palace is distracted by the ball.

I look down at my hands, and my breath catches. My hands, my legs, my body—there’s nothing but shadow. I wave my hand in front of my face, but it’s not there. I’m . . . invisible?

I stumble back into the wall—and fall right through it, into a flood of sunlight in a bustling kitchen.

“What do you think you’re doing in here?” a muscular dwarf in a chef’s hat growls at me. He has an enormous swine-shaped snout and curved ivory horns.

I scramble to my feet, staring at the wall I’m pretty sure I just fell through.

“You come to steal food from my kitchen?” He swats my back with a spoon, and my skin stings. “Get outta here, ya wildling.”

“Yes, sir,” I murmur. I find the nearest exit and rush out of the room, emerging into a long hall different from the one where I spotted the queen. Candles flicker from sconces every few feet, but there are no windows, and the shadows are plentiful.

I reach into a shadow and watch as my shaking hand disappears.

Is this some strange reaction to being in Faerie? Does my skill for blending in the normal world become an actual ability to disappear in this one?

Voices float toward me from a room down the hall, and I step into the shadows, willing myself to disappear as I listen.

“They’re expecting the prince tonight,” a deep voice says.

“Yes, sir, I understand,” another male replies, this voice squeaky. “But Prince Ronan is still away. As you know, he isn’t keen to return home and is less keen to choose a bride.”

“Then find him,” the first says. “If you make me deliver bad news to our queen, I’ll be greatly displeased.”

The palace is overflowing with women ready to offer their lives to the Seelie prince, and he couldn’t be bothered to show? How typical of a faerie. Egotistical nonsense.

The males step out of the room and head toward me. They’re tall, graceful, noble fae dressed in yellow-and-gray uniforms—from the queen’s guard, perhaps?

I stay in the shadows, praying I’m invisible to them as well and not just to myself. They walk past me, and I hold my breath as one brushes my stomach with his elbow.

When they turn around a corner, I allow myself to breathe again. Carefully, I peek inside the room they emerged from. It’s an office that has two desks, stacks of books, and maps on the walls, but what interests me most is the window and the fading sunlight.

I need to find that wardrobe. I’ve already lost too much time.



* * *



I found it. Deep in the lower levels of the palace, in a far back corner of a storage room, I found an oversize armoire with wings painted on the doors.

The queen’s castle is vast and filled with fae and far more light than is convenient for a girl whose skills revolve around shadows and darkness. There are very few corridors or rooms that don’t have someone nearby, but I roamed through every space I could, searching. I could’ve saved myself hours if I’d thought to start in the storage rooms, but considering the size of the palace, it’s a miracle I found it at all.

It’s dark and cool down here, and I’m so tired I want to curl into a corner and sleep for a week. I’ve been awake nearly twenty-four hours, and my muscles ache from the hours I was sucked into the faerie dances. But I can’t stop now. I need to get to the Unseelie Court. My sister’s name rings again and again through my mind, reminding me of what’s at stake and giving me the energy I need to keep going.