Page 31 of Lord of the Hollow Court
A muscle flexed in Misman’s jaw. “When, m’lord?”
“April first.”
Misman sucked in a breath. “So soon?”
Braam’s attempt at a comforting smile left his mouth twisted, as if he’d just tasted something sour. “There is one chance left for us, I think.”
“Anything would be better than the de Groots,” Misman said under his breath. While Braam’s father still ruled, Misman had stolen away from serving Esmee de Groot, first in the line of succession to the Court of Claws, and asked Braam for any position available. Esmee was a tyrant at best.
While Clawmark Castle slept, Braam left with Misman in his carriage—and a poor human girl Esmee had snatched from the woods for entertainment. Braam still remembered how the entire carriage smelled of mint, lavender and some other, more savory herb long after she’d left it. The folk remedy was said to hide the scent of human blood and deter the Wild Hunt.
He should’ve asked so many more questions about Miss van der Vos, about her welfare. Would that he’d paid her a visit, or taken a few moments to privately explain the geas.
Instead he’d guided the magic of the court where it wished to be, sealing it with his own magic as lord, and left his servants to see to the girl.
“Anything,Misman?” Braam arched a challenging brow at his butler. “Would you truly stand by your lord if he were to do something radical?”
Misman clasped his hands behind him. His expression was pure suspicion. “What is m’lord considering?”
“You know I would not wish to dishonor you in any way,” Braam said. “I will understand if you feel you must leave.”
Misman shifted again, pain flickering across his features. “I’m too old to find another position, m’lord.”
“I feel the same way.” Braam flashed his sharp teeth. “I must present my oath and tithe. But it does not mean Fenna de Groot will accept them.”
As if from instinct, Misman moved toward a chair and sat, back straight despite how it frequently pained him. A people with such challenges needed to be ruled by those who understood them, not those who thought they knew best while enjoying near-endless privilege and power. Only the low fae understood what it was to wither in the midst of life, to understand the comfort of a good cane and hot bath to warm their worn joints and cracking bones. They simply had needs the High Fae did not. The de Groots were too High Fae to suffer from these problems, and too cruel to care about those who did.
“Since this letter came, I’ve been thinking,” Braam said, flattening any doubt from his tone. “What is the one thing that might deter the Court of Claws from absorbing the Hollow Court?”
“Does such a thing exist? We may not operate the most profitable court, but if there’s a penny to be made, Lady de Groot will want it.”
Braam tented, then released his fingers. He wasn’t sure how to say this. “It would have to be something that would disgust Fenna. Something she would not wish her name associated with.”
Misman’s eyes widened. “M’lord, you cannot mean—”
But Braam would do anything to keep his people from being de Groot subjects.
Even if it meant wedding a human.
Chapter Fifteen
Bargain at First Sight
How could a place so splendid have fallen into such decay? The ballroom was vast, putting the de Vries house to shame several times over. The balcony above them, still strung with webs that Bibi had just taken a broom to, with little result, could seat a magnificent orchestra. Katty wished she could be there on the night of a ball just to hear the music. If she had to be a lowly worker—the very fate she’d been trying to avoid—at least it was in a great house.
Hall,she corrected herself. She did not bother to add that it was a fae hall. After several days, these facts still did not settle in her mind.
But something had gone awry with this great house, as if it was being slowly consumed by the elements from the inside out. Despite the astringent smell of the bucket of cleaning solution, cut with lavender, sage and thyme so that it smelled both awful and enchanting, everything smelled of moldering leaves and wet wood.
It was a smell Katty had come to know well in the last week, that sang her to sleep and greeted her upon waking in Rineke’s frighteningly high room. Rineke was always beside her, always there to help her to the door to below. Every morning and evening was harrowing, but with Rineke there, the nights were a little less lonely.
As Katty mopped the ballroom floor for what felt like the millionth time, her much abused slippers sticky with an awful sludge, she became aware of a presence. There was a heaviness to it—almost a darkness—that made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck.
“Miss van der Vos, is it?” a gentle, masculine voice asked.
Her head snapped up. Katty’s eyes darted around the colorful floor, swirled with woodsy browns and greens beneath the mist that curled around her ankles. Where had the others gone? Even Bibi had disappeared from the balcony.
There was a tapping as the speaker approached through the mist. Rhythmic, pendulum like taps that set Katty’s nerves on edge. She squinted, trying to make out his face.
