Page 72 of Lord of the Hollow Court
Braam is in trouble.She knew this in her bones, the way she knew her own name, the way she knew the streets of Sleepy Hollow. Her husband was in grave danger, and she must find him.
Katty raced through the wood, grappling for any signs of progress. She began to yell as she ran, calling for someone, anyone.
At last, she heard a reply.
“Katrina?”
Katty’s eyes grew. “Rineke!”
“I’m here, Katrina, don’t move! Keep talking to me.”
“Rineke!” She clasped her hands, not daring to remove the dangerously hot ring and tamper with its magic. “Rineke, something has happened to Lord Braam.”
“I know—we’ve been trying to find you! Bibi and I took turns. We thought you were stuck in the human village. I almost glamoured myself to go find you when I heard you calling.”
“Is he here?” Katty asked, pitch rising. “Is Braam home?”
“He’s back alright—and so is the de Groot heir.” Though Katty could not see Rineke yet, she could picture the curl of the faerie’s lip at the name. “She’s come to claim the Hollow Court. She acts like she owns it already!”
Katty’s chest tightened. “She can’t justtakeit. What about Lord Braam?”
“He’s trying to stop her. But, Katrina,” Rineke said, bursting through the underbrush, her face drawn, “he didn’t return in the best of shape. If it comes down to a fight—”
Katty ran forward, grasping Rineke in an awkward embrace to avoid the faerie’s green and black wings. Rineke chuckled, clasping her back.
“Let’s go home,” Katty said.
Rineke nodded in reply.
When Braam caught up to Esmee de Groot in the ballroom, she was ordering her assistant to find a ladder to measure it for new draperies. The existing ones still hung in tatters—not that it was any business of Esmee’s to replace them.
He was still lord of this court.
“Lady Esmee,” Braam nearly growled. “I’ll thank you not to treat my place as your own just yet.”
“You.” Esmee whirled, her soft pink gown exaggerating the vileness of her expression. “How did you get away from my mother?”
“Without much difficulty,” Braam said, avoiding the appearance of putting too much weight on his cane. His hip screamed at him in reply, the pain roughening his voice. “Kindly leave my court. Immediately.”
Esmee sneered at him openly, eyes sparkling as if eager for a confrontation. If she wanted one, she would get it. Leaning his cane against his hip, Braam took off his coat, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he removed his arms from the sleeves, then tossed it to the floor. He was grateful his cane did not clatter to the floor beside it, particularly since he did not think he could bend to retrieve it, and found he held his breath.
She stared back at him, every line of her speaking of menace.
“You have no right to challenge me in my own court,” Braam reminded her, even as he began to roll up his sleeves.
“And you have no right to hold it. Mother has promised it to me. It will be in such better hands—and you won’t escape her twice.”
“I’ll never bend the knee to her,” he said. “My conscience won’t allow it. And I know these lands, Lady Esmee. My lands brought me a human and brought her a geas—magic that’s out of even your purview. I don’t think they’ll accept you or your mother.”
Esmee cast her hand out, wicked nails catching the light and revealing how pointed they were. “And look what you’ve done with those lands—nothing. No,lessthan nothing. I can feel how enfeebled they are. Admit it, Braam, you’re weak, you have no great magic, no heir—this land is dying under your rule.”
Braam swallowed. He wished she had not hit him in such a tender place. It was too difficult to pretend he disagreed. Yet whatever was happening to the lands of the Hollow Court, it began long before his rule and had nothing to do with the quality of its lord or lady. He knew this, because his parents were the finest people, and rulers, he’d ever known.
But somethingwasdifferent about the land. Even as he stood in his ballroom, he felt its change, that bucking of magic taking a more settled shape. Whatever caused it—Esmee’s arrival and premature claim to it, perhaps—it felt moreawake.As if it was listening.
“I’ll give you one last chance, Esmee,” Braam said with a growl. “Leave now.”
“Or what?” The lilt to her laughter was at odds with her foul expression. He knew the tales of Esmee de Groot well, a fae who was as sour a child as she was a lady. Her girlish laughter was entirely unnerving. “No, Lord Braam, I don’t think I will leave. I’d rather stake my claim right here, right now.”
