Chapter 16
GAPING AT THEM, mouth opening and closing like a fish gulping water, I finally asked, “Where are you taking them?”
They all looked to Soren.
He’d started pacing, but he came back around the couch now to sit again. “We bring them across the veil so they can go home.”
I blinked at him, not really absorbing anything. “The . . . veil?”
“It’s a magical wall of sorts that prevents most humans from crossing into the fae lands by making it nearly impossible to continue onward.”
Oh yeah, I know exactly what the veil feels like. I vividly remembered that strange gloom and the urgent need to turn back in the woods until a sudden pop, as if I’d crossed some unseen barrier.
The rest of his sentence hit me belatedly. He’s bringing them home? I didn’t know what to make of that. The fae didn’t do nice things for no reason.
“Why?”
“Because no one should be stuck in a life they didn’t choose. They don’t deserve it.”
I leaned back a bit at his sudden passion. That sounded personal. But he didn’t seem stuck to me. What exactly about his life here wasn’t his choice? He seemed important, and he had a nice place and more friends than I’d ever had . . .
Despite their claims of rescuing humans, I couldn’t shake my suspicion.
My struggle to trust him didn’t make logical sense—I knew that. After all, he hadn’t done anything to me personally.
But my original opinion of him felt formed in cement, especially after what I’d learned about him damaging Caius’s reputation and hopes for a family.
“Soren’s not the only one who feels strongly about having a choice,” Gwen said, breaking the silence. She paused to throw a meaningful look toward him. “But some of us also appreciate that it upsets the Hollow Court to no end.”
I frowned. “How so?”
Grinning, she explained, “They can’t figure out where the humans are disappearing to.”
“They assumed it was a rogue boggart or two at first,” Peregrin told me with a shy grin.
“But then,” Julian added, “they noticed it only happened during the liftings.”
Liftings? I didn’t know what that word meant, but Lore spoke before I could ask.
“It didn’t help that we took nearly a dozen two nights ago.”
The day before I arrived?
I did the math as I looked at Soren. He’d asked me to lie to Caius about the day before I’d arrived, to say he’d been home. Clearly, he hadn’t been. Obviously, I’d figured that part out, but I’d just assumed they’d been doing typical fae tricks.
He met my gaze calmly and gave me a single nod to confirm what I’d put together. “The prince is suspicious and nearly caught us more than once, but with your help, we’ve thrown him off our trail yet again.”
It sounded heroic, but what about the note I’d found in his pocket? I wanted to bring it up but couldn’t without revealing my snooping.
If the silence had lingered, I might’ve gotten the nerve, but Julian asked if anyone was eating the last piece of doughy bread, which started him and Gwen bickering, while Peregrin pointed out he could make more, and they all made their way to the kitchen.
Lore gave me a reassuring smile as they went, making me wonder if they’d left on purpose.
It was just me and Soren now.
He moved from his chair to sit beside me on the couch, closer than I’d expected, reaching for my face.
I lurched back. “What’re you doing?”
“Your glamour is fading.” His hands hovered over my cheeks. “May I fix it?”
“Oh . . . Sure, okay.”
Warm fingers danced across my skin, and my pulse picked up.
My body couldn’t seem to distinguish between flirting and fae glamours.
I shouldn’t be getting butterflies from this.
When he touched me, I definitely shouldn’t feel comfortable or safe.
I caught myself before I accidentally leaned into his palm on my cheek.
He lingered for some reason. Maybe the glamour was being difficult.
Was I blinking?
I should probably blink.
Breathing would be good too.
“There,” he murmured, slow to pull away. He swallowed, and I watched his throat move.
Okay, now I was blinking too much. My head felt fuzzy. I tried to blink an average number of times, whatever that was. “Great.”
Great? Wow. I really had a way with words. At least I’d remembered not to thank him out loud.
But as soon as we had enough distance for me to function, I thought of the note from his room again. It didn’t make sense.
He stared at me. “Ask whatever questions you have.”
I frowned. “How do you know I have questions?”
“For one, you signed a contract mere minutes ago that allows you to ask all the questions you’ve been saving up. For another”—the tiniest smile tugged at his mouth, softening his next words—“you always have questions.”
I blushed but still had to ask. “Have you ever stolen people from their homes?”
Instantly, he grew serious. “Never.”
That was fast.
Still, I remembered his words about fae being fantastic liars when it came to misdirection. “How can I know that’s the truth?”
“Good girl.” He did smile this time, enough for his dimples to show. “Direct answers tend to be shorter. If we aim to confuse, you’ll notice it takes quite a few more words.”
He’d only used one: Never.
“There’s not a lot of wiggle room in ‘never,’ ” I whispered.
He dipped his head in agreement. “None at all.”
“Okay.” I swallowed and took a few deep breaths. “Then . . . why did I see a note in your room about ‘acquiring more humans’? Like, a lot more.”
A frown crossed his face. At first, I thought it was because I’d reminded him that I’d been in his room. He dropped his gaze to my hands, where I twisted my fingers. I stopped.
In a low tone, he murmured, “I can’t share details of how I found that, but the note was not written by me.”
The hint of anger in his voice made my nerves sing. Probably for going through his things. But if he hadn’t written that, who had? It still didn’t make sense, but I didn’t want to push any more buttons by accident.
He softened his voice at whatever crossed my face. “I understand why you went looking for answers, but I hope going forward you might trust me enough to ask directly.”
Did he really mean that? I hesitated, meeting his pale blue eyes. “Okay,” I said quietly. Time to switch to the topic he’d expected me to ask about in the first place. “Tell me about the contracts.”
Standing, he picked the contract up from the table in front of us. He pointed at our signatures where the ink was still fresh. “Upholding a fae contract depends on blood. Blood is magic.”
I forced my eyes down to where his finger touched the page. “Got it.”
“Generally, there’s only one way out of a blood contract,” Soren continued, not seeming to notice how frazzled I felt. He settled back to lean one arm on the top of the sofa. “I’m sure you can guess what that is.”
Though my mind hadn’t been as sharp this last week as it usually was, I still managed to focus and consider the puzzle he presented. Once I thought on it, the answer was obvious: “By dying?”
“Correct,” he agreed.
Cold fear stole over me. “Is that the only way?” My voice came out breathy, panicked. Is that the only way out for Dad, Rissa, and Olive? And Mom, if she’s even here?
“No.”
That one word from him allowed me to breathe again, though my chest still hurt a bit.
“But it is the easiest way,” Soren continued, “so that’s how we first attempted to cancel human contracts when helping them escape the Hollow Court. If you can fool the magic into thinking someone died, they’ll automatically be released. But the death, even if temporary, has to be real.”
His eyes grew distant, somber, like he was remembering something he wished he could forget. “It didn’t go well.”
“Do I want to know?” I mean, I did right now, but something about the sadness in those usually intense blue eyes made me think I’d regret asking.
“Probably not,” he answered honestly. “When we tried to cheat the contracts this way, usually through poison that stopped the heart, it proved nearly impossible. Either the humans didn’t fully die, in which case the magic sensed their lifeblood still clinging to the contract and refused to let them out, or .
. .” He winced like it hurt him to say the next part.
“In the majority of cases, if we successfully stopped their hearts, they lacked the willpower to return.”
“What do you mean?”
He didn’t answer for a long moment, eyes unfocused as he remembered. “When we lost the first one, I hoped it was a fluke.”
I covered my mouth as his words sank in.
“It turns out the majority of humans under these types of permanent contracts at some point lose their will to live.” His eyes shuttered. “We didn’t try for long. Our success rate was quite low. Only one of four humans fought their way back from death’s door.”
“Oh, that’s . . .” I was at a loss for words
“Appalling? Shocking? Horrifying?” he supplied.
“All of the above,” I whispered.
He’d helped them . . . by killing them. But his goal was to bring them back to life.
Though he’d failed, he’d meant to rescue and return those people to their homes.
And I’d gotten the sense earlier that he and his friends had succeeded.
My opinion of him swung back and forth like a pendulum, not stopping on either side, unable to figure out where he landed.
But he wasn’t done.
“I couldn’t stomach those odds, which meant we really only had one other option: to modify the original contract.”
Thank goodness he’d moved to a different option.
“Renegotiating happens more often than you’d think with our kind,” he explained, seeming to sense what I was about to ask.
“If we want to request different terms, we simply need to offer something the other party wants more—maybe it’s more money, more jewels, more servitude, or even a substitute to take our place if we can find one.
One way or another, we can usually find our way to an agreeable trade or cancellation. ”
“And then you sign a new contract?”
“Yes,” Soren confirmed with a nod. “A replacement must be written on the same paper with the same blood and the same signatures. But the fae seducing humans into service aren’t the type to make trades.”
My rising hopes dropped again, crushed from how hard they’d fallen twice now. “Are you saying there’s almost no chance I can free my family?”
This is the bargain I made? I’m going to help him in exchange for learning that it’s hopeless?
He frowned. It almost seemed like his hand twitched toward mine, though the motion was so slight that I might’ve imagined it. “The odds aren’t perfect, but we’ve found a way.”
The roller coaster of hope raced back up at breakneck speed. “What?”
“We obtain their contracts. And the blood of the ones who signed them.”