Page 3 of Lord of the Hollow Court
How much longer could he behave like this, always acting on impulse, always quick to react to every slight, before he was as terrible as the Lady of the Court of Claws?
"Unkind, my lord!" the fae sorcerer protested as the swirling golden light began to distend, trickling toward him. "I have come to you in the spirit of true bargain! I would not make such a mistake—"
"And I would not threaten the Lord of the Hollow Court!" With a bellow of what might well be a ruinous temper, the curse flew toward the fae sorcerer like spirits on the sacred night, surrounding him and worming through the fibers of his cloak.
As every thread of it vanished, a black horse grew from the tatters. The horse neighed and bucked, eyes rolling to reveal their whites, hind legs kicking out as they took shape.
"You shall be a wonderful surprise for anyone who strays into my throne room," Braam declared, knowing thatanyonewas sure to be the other courts' lords and ladies. He closed the double doors with a flick of his hand, ignoring the wariness on Misman's face as they slammed together.
Cane tapping upon the stone dais, Braam smiled to himself, pleased with his own cleverness. With one last glance at the sorcerer turned stallion, now rearing at the unfairness of it all, Braam let himself out through the door behind his throne.
He wished to check on the kitchen fae's progress before the first of his guests arrived.
Chapter Two
Frayed Ribbon
Katty van der Vos's fingers wound through her hair, twisting it until it hurt, as she beheld her dearest friend's gown. Katrina de Vries had long boasted of having the best singing voice in the Hudson Valley. Now she had the prettiest ankles in all of Sleepy Hollow, too, and she wanted the world to know it.
Katty looked down at her sister's cast-off gown and felt like screaming.
As Katrina rose from her dressing table, palest blonde curls perfectly set by her fretting maid, she smiled graciously and thanked the pink-cheeked servant for her help. But Katty knew that, deep down, her friend did not believe she needed it. Katrina de Vries was born under a golden sun, an auspicious moon and a dollop of fairy dust. Everything about her life was perfect.
Except for the way she treated her ribbons. With a pert moue, Katty bent to retrieve the yellow ribbon from beside the bed.
“Oh, don't bother, Katty,” said Katrina. “It's too frayed to wear any longer.” Her eyes widened. “Doyouwant it?”
Katty frowned outright, fingers poised just above the ribbon. “No, I—”
“Oh, don't be silly! You should have it. Look, it even goes with your dress!”
Before Katty could stop her, Katrina snatched up the ribbon and flapped it about. Seconds later, she was pushing Katty down from between her shoulder blades, tutting at her while she tried to tie the ribbon in Katty's hair.
“There!” Katrina said, dusting off her white gloves. She then pointed to the looking glass. “What do you think?”
I think it looks frayed.In truth, it wasn'tthatbad, but given the task she'd arrived with tonight, a frayed yellow ribbon was not high on her list of items to wear. At least Katrina was right about one thing. Itdidmatch Katty's dress, bringing out the tired little flowers so they almost looked like new again.
The two of them were the only Katrinas in their woodsy little home of Sleepy Hollow. Both were eighteen, both lived on the same tract of land. That Katrina de Vries was the richer one—and that her father owned both the land and the gristmill at which Katty van der Vos's father worked and upon which he, his wife and daughter lived—meant she got to be the dignified one, called Katrina, a perfect and blonde little mistress of the manor from a young age. While Katty was stuck with rusty reddish brown hair, a modest abode, an embarrassing family and a childhood nickname to match it. It wasn'tfair.
As if to prove it, Katty's eyes began to wander around the room. Katrina's bedroom was littered with all manner of nice and poorly cared for things. Fine Parisian perfumes lined her dressing table like clutter. Her bedroom was painted a vivid shade of green to rival the summer grass—a very new shade it was said the Washingtons themselves had in their dining room. Pretty dolls with china faces lined her bed, while Katty had long since been made to give up her beloved childhood things.
Katrina had everything. But Katty? Katty wore her sister's hand-me-down dress, altered to compensate for her lack of both bosom and height. The pink muslin simply didn't hang right. The puffed sleeves made her appear as though she had no neck, and she knew she'd be fidgeting with the neckline all night.
A knock on the door broke her childish reverie. Katty straightened, trying not to appear as though she wished her companion ill as Mrs. de Vries peeked through the door.
“Good, you're both ready,” she said, a hint of mischief brightening her face. “Almost. I wanted to give you this.”
Mrs. de Vries maneuvered a square box around the door, unveiling it like a surprise. Katty wrinkled her nose. It looked—and smelled—like an old cigar box.
Mrs. de Vries popped open the latch, pushing back the lid. Inside, on a bed of deep red velvet, sat the most exquisite tiara.
“Oh, mama!” Katrina exclaimed. “But it's yours!”
“You should wear it tonight.” Belatedly, she looked at Katty. “Oh, I'm sorry, dear, I should've dug out something for you as well! You've been such a good companion to my Katrina over the years. Truly, you deserve it.”
She'd misunderstood Katty's crestfallen face. Straightening, Katty adopted a braver one. “Don't fret over me, Mrs. de Vries,” she said, stamping out a slight quiver in her voice before she continued. “Katrina has given me one of her ribbons.”
“Such a sweet girl.” She bestowed a look upon her daughter so full of love and pride that a weight dropped into Katty’s gut and stayed there. Once Katrina married, there would be no more need for a companion. Neither of them were little girls anymore.
