Page 56 of Lord of the Hollow Court
Many years had passed since Misman hiked into the heart of the forest, and it had not grown easier to reach with time.
In his early days at the Hollow Court, the trees would bend to admit a fae who sought it, whispering to him on an invisible breeze. There was never a true wind here, after all, the foliage too dense for that. Here, heat remained and plants grew in abundance with no regard for the seasons. Humidity clung to the air eternally, thickening it as he drew closer to the heart.
Now, the way was covered in brambles and claw-like branches, the still air pushing him back with every step.
Struggling to breathe the thickened air to the point of gasping, Misman stopped. He’d come as close to the heart as he’d dared.
With a fallen tree as his summoning table, Misman removed the chalk from his pocket and sketched out the sigil. “Realm,” he whispered, holding a long pheasant feather over the symbol. As if a cyclone touched down in that very spot, the feather flew from his grasp, pulled straight up into the sky. Misman lost sight of it amidst the eternally green canopy overhead.
From behind him came the sound of a throat clearing, as if its owner wished to make a point. No more than ten seconds had passed.
“Misman,” Realm drawled.
When he turned, the hairs stood on the back of his neck. He tried to display a pleasant expression, but it was hard to keep it from slipping. “Hello, Realm. It’s been a long time.”
“You’ve gotten old,” she accused. Realm, of course, looked much the same. The same pointed chin and heart-shaped hairline, the rosy cheeks on honey skin and the golden Valkyrie eyes that set it off. She would have looked exotically beautiful if she wasn’t so terrifying. Instead, every line of her professed danger.
Gods, Misman had been such a fool when he was young. It was a wonder he’d lasted in the Order as long as he did.
The Valkyrie folded her arms, jutting out a hip. She wore tight black trousers covered in straps, a third of which held knives in their inner leather sheathes. She must’ve been in the middle of something when he summoned her. Misman didn’t know if he should be grateful or worried that she’d answered.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she purred sarcastically, which was to say her tone indicated danger. Realm was in a dark mood, and had most certainly been pulled from something of import.
“The Lord of the Hollow Court has gone missing,” Misman said. “He was only wed last night, and had tithe duties this morning. Yet there was no sign of him but a wide-open door to the manor.”
Realm sniffed. “You know I can’t get involved.” She examined her nails, crested with something dark that was most likely blood. “I’m quite busy at the moment, as it happens.”
“I know. It’s only a bit of information I need.” Misman swallowed. “Please, Mentor Realm. For old times’ sake.”
“Oh, old times, is it?” She rolled her eyes. “I only trained you for five years. That’s weeks in Valkyrie time.”
“I know,” Misman said. “Still.”
“Still.” The Valkyrie came perilously close to cracking a smile. “What information do you need?”
“There was a High Fae Sorcerer who came here, little more than a week ago, promising he could find the court’s lost diadem and cure the Fae Wasting.” Misman frowned. “He might have been a demi-fae.”
Realm’s already bright golden eyes lit up. “You suspect him?”
“Not exactly.” Misman shifted, uncomfortable in the stagnant air. “I think his lordship made a mistake in turning him away. I think he can help us—doubly so, now that his lordship is missing.”
“You think this sorcerer can track him.” Realm nodded absently, as if lost in thought. She glanced up at Misman, eyes piercing. “That could be a dangerous bargain. What’s the sorcerer to gain?”
Misman sighed. “He was battling a case of the Wasting.”
Immediately, Realm shook her head. “It’s a ruse. If he’s a true sorcerer, he’d fight it off on his own.”
Raising a brow in challenge, Misman asked, “And if he’s truly demi-fae?”
Realm’s eyes narrowed. “Then I’d like to know who trained a human’s child.”
“And I’d ask him for you,” Misman said, taking a small step toward her. One could never be too careful with a well-armed Valkyrie. “If only I could find him...”
With a huff, Realm unwound her arms from beneath her chest, placing her hands on her hips instead. “Fine.” The pheasant feather appeared on the ground between them. “Summon me again when you get my answers. And you’d better get them.”
Misman nodded firmly. “I will.”
With an exhale, Realm closed her eyes—then shot straight up through the canopy. He had no hope of seeing her through the shower of leaves she left behind, but he knew she was up there, turning like a weather vane.
