Page 37 of Lord of the Hollow Court
At least my reputation will be saved,Katty assured herself as she sunk into a hot bath. But even as she thought this, she questioned whether it was true—or worth it.
Chapter Seventeen
Ordinary
What have I done?Braam silently wondered as he fidgeted with the unfamiliar grip of a swan-headed cane. Strange, how he knew it was his idea, but now that he stood at the fore of his throne room, the ensorcelled minister on one side of him and Misman on the other, all of this felt like someone else’s plan. And indeed it was. The one who’d made this plan hadn’t considered the eyes of his subjects on him from above and below. The biting whispers carried up to the dais as they wondered at their lord’s decision.
Braam’s impulsiveness had gotten him into the sort of trouble he always knew it would—the kind that could not be easily smoothed over or undone. No matter how he fidgeted with the ruby on his finger, a solution would not come to him. Mere minutes from now—or perhaps seconds, as he was not familiar with human marriage traditions—another ring, silver instead of gold, would sit atop it.
Every part of this was a mistake.
As he stood in a pumpkin patch interspersed with chrysanthemums and cut boughs with scarlet leaves—the final offerings of the season surrounding him as was proper—all of it felt wrong to Braam. With the throne room packed with winged bodies and lithe, elfin fae, many of whom loved him and devoted their lives to his service, he felt like the loneliest man in the world. And he wondered at his decision along with them.
Once Braam was able to pick out a full sentence from the gossip—His lordship is heartbroken and proposed to the first woman he saw, not even realizing she was ahumanuntil he’d given his word—he did not disagree. He clearly was not in his right mind when making the offer yesterday. Yet here he stood, fingers wrapped around the beak of a swan instead of a raven. Standing with the aid of a symbol of lifelong devotion. How had he let it get this far?
The desperate Braam who’d concocted this scheme to disgust Fenna de Groot and the Court of Claws was not the man who stood here today, dressed in a deep burgundy suit with golden whorls woven into the fabric. This Braam was the one who’d tried and failed to arrange his cravat with shaking hands, giving himself over to Misman when he could not manage it. The Braam who’d made this plan had vanished.
He was about to be married. To ahuman.Even as his heart still beat miserably for Madeleif.
This is a mistake.
The minister swayed on his toes beside him, drunk on dark faerie wine. Part of Braam had hoped they’d fail there, that the wedding would be postponed. But it was simple work for a pair of his court’s pixies to swap out the minister’s evening cognac for the wine of faerie fruit, a little enchantment giving it an amber hue. The minister was exceedingly pliable after that. By the time he arrived at Hollow Hall, his tongue and lips were stained almost black. After the first taste, it was no longer necessary to glamour the wine.
Braam looked to Misman for the guidance only his eternally steadfast butler could provide. Though Braam was content with the father he’d had, he’d come to view Misman as a sort of uncle—one who could not stand disarray in their family home. It was natural to ask Misman to stand up with him. His was a steadiness Braam required today.
Braam reminded himself, as Misman would, that he did this for his court. All of it—from the skeletal dragon that still hung overhead, changed from black to gold and given plush feathers for the occasion, to hiding his future bride on Samhain in the first place—had been for his court. He’d even left Madeleif for the Hollow Court and its folk.
Madeleif. She must still be here in the Colonial Courts.Perhaps she was at the Court of Claws right now. It was not so far a drive. He could have his carriage of state prepared, and the scythe-eared and wispy-bearded court horses fully harnessed, within the hour. By the time the feast was set to begin, Braam could be well on his way to the woman he loved instead of betrothed to an unknown human girl.
In this brief fantasy, he nearly forgot that King Bakker would be by Madeleif’s side. King Bakker, who must have voted against the Hollow Court retaining its independence after what took place at the revel.
No matter the direction in which Braam looked, there was no respite to be found. This human was his only chance to save his court from Fenna de Groot and her progeny.
So why did he feel like bolting from the dais?
“My word,” the minister exclaimed suddenly. Braam’s head snapped toward him, only to find the human cleric with his back arched severely, dilated pupils widening further as he took in the golden dragon overhead. “What a very strange bird!”
Braam bit his lip to stifle a groan. His pixies had given the man far too much wine. What if he never recovered? Would Braam be forced to havetwohumans living at his court?
Almost against his will, Braam’s mouth quirked up in a half smile. That would most certainly disgust Fenna de Groot. Why not invite a whole passel of humans? Why not a whole town of them? Humans had trespassed on his familial lands at the worst possible time. The lands he’d been entrusted with. The wards that kept his lands separate from the human world ought to have kept them out.
It was yet another sign that his court’s magic was fading.
Braam was descended from the indigenous fae of this land; the fae of the Elder Courts had come centuries before the humans of Europe, borne on golden gondolas pulled by sea dragons and winged steeds, bearing gifts and goodwill. Theirs was a quiet and gradual sort of conquest, one of hearts and minds. The fae from one land simply married those of another, as they had since the beginning of time. It was only as the humans arrived in their cramped little ships that talk of the Colonial Courts began.
And here Braam was, descendant of the proud fae of the valley, about to lose his land. Every Braam who ascended to the throne swore to retain what he’d been given, or die trying. As this Braam approached his last half century, he knew that’s what would be: the moment he died without an heir, his court would be absorbed into the Court of Claws completely.
I made a vow the day I took my father’s place,he reminded himself.What’s one more, if it can be to this human instead of to the de Groots?
Still, Braam found himself struggling for breath. Forcing himself to slow his respiration did little good; it was like he could take in no air. Evidently, his heart would not agree with his mind.
“Misman,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “We have to stop this.”
Misman turned, brows instantly furrowed by worry. “M’lord?”
At that exact moment, the double doors to the throne room swung forward, and Braam stopped breathing entirely.
The hall beyond was filled with lanterns, giving the figure a golden halo as she stepped forward. Her hands clutched a trailing bouquet before her, full of chrysanthemums and ivy. The scents of cinnamon and anise wafted into the throne room, eliciting a wave of pleased murmurs from the folk below the dais, then from those in the balcony. At least this human was doing things the fae way. Braam’s courtiers leaned over the balcony ledge, eager to take in a stronger whiff, to catch the notes of nutmeg and ginger wound into the stronger smells.
