Page 37 of Within the Hollow Heart

There was a long moment of silence, wherein Nickolas was unsure if he’d spoken a word in reply. In his head, many, many words had been spoken. Shouted, even. Words likenoandthe deuce you will. But thenmoontidesank in, and Nickolas could only see the illustrations they’d found in Etta’s fae book, Gideon’s fingers tracing the figure of a bride and groom beneath the light of a full moon. Their potential loophole must not have worked out. She would have to make her impossible choice.It has nothing to do with you, he told himself. Because to Jules, Nickolas would be no one. Between his mother’s actions, the family debt, and a fae bargain, Nickolas might not even be a lord. He did not understand why the prince was telling him, but Nickolas understood well enough where he stood.

Jules was a princess. She might be marrying a fae, but he was a prince—one equal to her station. Nickolas’s entire chest went tight. He could not think of her standing where he was, trapped in Rivenwilde and beholden to fae whims. He didn’t know whether she might be locked in a room or paraded about at court events, but it didn’t matter. It was all untenable.

The prince said, “She has agreed to the terms on the condition that the ceremony is held in the heart of the forest, near the Rive.” His dark gaze slid momentarily away, toward a wall of richly bound books. “And that once the ceremony has concluded, you will be set free.”

The weight in Nickolas’s stomach felt as if it might drag him to the ground. He was being pulled apart, bit by bit. Jules’s terms had already been named, which meant she had sacrificed something new. Something besides the breaking of a curse.

“What did you take from her in return?”

The prince gazed toward the ceiling as he requested, “Noal.”

Noal retrieved a draped object from a side table then held it where Nickolas could see. The drape was pulled away to reveal a finely woven enclosure holding a familiar dull-gray bird.

“Frederick,” Nickolas breathed.

“Yes.” It did not sound as if the prince took any joy in the trade.

Nickolas asked, “Why?”

The prince’s gaze came back to Nickolas. “She has no more choice in the matter than I.”

“So you set me free but trap her brother…”

“He will only be as trapped as a princess of Rivenwilde.”

Nickolas swallowed his response, struck by the bird’s wide, dark eyes. Jules would not be alone. She would have a companion. She would hate it, but Frederick had chosen to stay with her time and again. He would likely choose the same outcome himself. It begged the question of why the prince had named it as his price.

“There will be a ceremony, and you are required to attend,” the prince explained. “I do not wish to bind you as your people have. Will you give your word to remain under my command?”

Nickolas watched him for a long moment. The prince looked tired and not from lack of sleep. Whatever else he was, whatever deals he’d made with Jules, he was still fae. Nickolas said, “With respect, even I am not fool enough to go willingly into such a bargain.”

“Very well.” The prince gave his gaze to Noal, and then with the dizzying sensation of falling from an unsafe height, the lot of them were swept away, no longer in the dim study but standing out of doors, near the ancient filigree wall that rose from the Rive.

It was past nightfall, but the clearing was lit with torches and scattered with flowering vines that had not been there before. At the center of the clearing was an altar, standing before a trellis draped with night-blooming flowers. A dozen armed fae men and women waited with their backs to the wall, naked hands at their sides and eyes on the forest. Flickering shadows danced among the trees, where Nickolas could see with his newly gifted sight, and the forms of shadowy creatures appeared to dance as well.

It did not seem the dance of a celebration, he thought, as much as it was like the preparations the king’s guard made before contests of skill. But Nickolas was within the Westrende borders, through the wall once more, and his skin felt alight with the desire to act. To run, to fight, to make any attempt at defeating what fate had in store.

Nickolas’s hands had no more than tightened into fists before the prince made a gesture that prevented any attempt at all. Roots burst from the ground around him. He leapt back, but the magic surrounded him, shooting upward to weave dark, woody strands into form. When the form was complete, the magic abruptly fell still. A few small clods of dirt fell to the earth with a dull, muffledthump.

Nickolas’s gaze met the prince’s through the tracery. He’d been placed inside a cage, a massive, man-sized enclosure not unlike the ones in Lady Narine’s aviary. “What fresh abyss is this?” he whispered.

Beside him, Noal hooked Frederick’s cage to a root near Nickolas’s head. The bird grunted a similar complaint.

Noal stepped back to stand beside the prince, whose distaste was evident. “I would have much preferred a spoken vow.”

Noal’s reply was sanguine. “It will encourage them to save him. They’ll be far less likely to attempt any deception this way.”

The prince’s face pinched. “Human trickery does grow tiresome.”

Noal hummed in agreement.

“Truly,” Nickolas challenged, but his protests went unheard as a call echoed from within the trees. It sounded predatory. Every fae in the clearing looked toward the forest. From the nearby brush, something catlike moved. Nickolas reached through a space in the roots, opened the door to Frederick’s cage, and drew the bird to his chest. For once, Frederick was quiet.

What came through the trees was no beast at all but a petite figure wearing a simple muslin dress. Frederick made a croak of protest, and Nickolas realized he’d squeezed the bird too tightly to his chest. Relaxing his grip, he watched with Frederick as Jules came further into view.

She might have been dressed simply, but she held the bearing of a princess, through and through. Shoulders back, head high, she strode with casual purpose toward the prince. She looked impossibly beautiful, features lit by the moon like the first night Nickolas had met her. Behind her walked Ian, his pace steady. He wore a sword at his hip and carried a small valise.

Nickolas did not think Jules had seen him, but when she approached the prince, she disregarded his elegant bow and said, “Release him.”

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