Page 38 of Lord of the Hollow Court
The woman stepped forward, her silhouette revealing a slim human dress and—pointed ears? A pair of green and black wings flared out dramatically.
Braam blinked. Was that Rineke?
Behind Rineke came a stouter figure, her plum hair violet in the white glow from the hall behind her. And behind her—Lula?
If his heart wasn’t wringing itself out on the dais, he would have guffawed at the sight of Lula made up like a very dour fae princess. Misman was here with Braam; why shouldn’t his housekeeper stand up with his bride? The entire scenario was laughable—more so because this human who’d been in his court for little more than a week had found more folk to stand with her than Braam had. Not that he’d asked. It was a strategic opportunity he’d missed.
This human, though, had thought of everything.
Once Lula reached the dais, she gave a perfunctory curtsy to Braam, then a nod toward Misman before taking her place. Under her sharp eyes, nothing in this ceremony would go awry. Braam found his nerve to run and run far withering to nothing.
At last, another silhouette appeared in the doorway—and promptly doubled. Braam squinted, fingers tightening around his cane. The shape of a fae gown, the skirts billowing out in ephemeral layers, emerged from the light. Beside Braam’s human bride, a man in fine clothes proceeded at a snail’s pace, guiding the human girl between the throngs of folk.
Murmurs rose around them. So many of these folk had never seen a human before, and sounded as though her appearance surprised them. Some gasped, not as if scandalized but as if excessively pleased. “Beautiful!” someone exclaimed.
The human proceeded up the aisle, the horns and black and gold wings of a fae man at her side. Was that Hugo on her arm?
As the girl neared, Braam was able to take full stock of her. She was dressed in a magnificent red and gold gown that somehow mirrored his clothing, her hair pulled up in an elaborate knot fronted by a tiara. Braam wondered how she had procured such an item—she must have won Lula over handily. It looked vaguely familiar to Braam, as if he had seen his mother wear it more than a century ago. Only Lula would know where it had been stored.
A veil was attached to the tiara, one that fell forward like a shroud and exposed the girl’s rounded ears to all. She displayed her humanness proudly, boldly, a haughty smile ghosting her lips. Unlike a fae bride, she wore no makeup at all.
Braam sucked in a long-awaited breath. She looked so—ordinary.
Ordinary was good. He could live with ordinary. She did not look as foreign as he expected, and the spicy scents infused into the bouquets masked her human scent well. Braam only wished he could remember the name of his bride. It had deserted him entirely.
As she reached him, he smiled and proffered his arm, allowing her to move from Hugo to him with delicate steps. She did not move like the fae, a heaviness even to her movements done with the utmost care. Braam narrowly suppressed a frown. Every time he thought the differences between them small, some minute thing jumped out at him and shone a light on the gulf between them.
What am I doing?
Getting on with it. Bidding the dazed minister to begin.Beside him, a frown flickered over his bride’s face at the sight of her fellow human.
The minister straightened, rote memory snapping into place as Misman helped him open his holy book to the proper page. Braam had the feeling the human clergy recited wedding rites in his sleep, for the words of the ceremony flowed from his mouth in one long murmur that had less to do with faerie wine than repetition.
“We have come together in the presence of God, for the marriage of—this man and—her there—to share their joy,” the minister began, leaving Braam uncomfortable at the use of the singular. The Court Lord’s wedding day was a poor time to offend the fae gods.
Though Braam remained as wooden as the columns outside Hollow Hall while the minister continued with the words of the human ceremony, Braam’s bride stiffened at his side, then relaxed. He wondered what had passed through her mind just then, but as he had met her only twice before this, and both times so briefly, he could not begin to guess.
Chapter Eighteen
The Grove
As Braam and Katty descended from the dais, a deafening crowd swarmed them, long nails clawing, hands dragging across their clothing. His head whipped toward Katty. Her face had gone a ghastly pale shade.
“Fae tradition,” Braam shouted over the crowd. “It’s for luck.”
Katty went completely stiff as a trio of faeries raised her to their shoulders. To her credit, she didn’t cry out.
“Lucky for whom?” she yelled back.
Braam grunted as his subjects lifted him beside her, snatching his cane before it could be lost in the crowd. The fae bore the pair of them from the room with surprising speed, moving ever faster once they reached the outer hall.
The lantern-filled hall heated quickly with so many fae bodies pressed into it. Braam heard cries of crumpled wings, of elbows in ribs. Still, the crowd rushed them forward, on toward the foyer of Hollow Hall.
The fervor of the crowd was growing—the low fae version of the Wild Hunt gripping his people. Unlike the High Fae, it was an expression of joy—and they were not completely senseless.
“Mind the lady’s head!” voices shouted when a group of winged faeries lifted her too close to the bloody chandelier. Katty had to duck, mouth opening in an exclamation Braam couldn’t hear.
“Careful with the lady!” another shouted as the crowd passed her forward, lowering her with surprising delicacy.
