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It wouldn’t be the first time Braam had called upon his skills as an Order of the Valkyrie apprentice. Though this was a worthy use of Misman’s only slightly rusted skills, Braam tried not to use them often, keeping his butler to the usual requirements of his position. It was a promise he’d made that day he stole Misman from Esmee de Groot’s service. When Misman served the Court of Claws heir he rarely had a few days of rest in his own room strung together.

Braam would ask him to travel ahead,askbeing the operative word. He would never command such a thing. As soon as the final cart was brought in, Braam would strike out himself.

The travelers themselves might have some useful news. A High Fae sorcerer with the Wasting would surely be noticed bysomeone.Mayhap they’d even passed him on the roads.

The situation wasn’t hopeless, Braam told himself as he descended the stairs, the familiar shape of the raven head comforting in his palm. If anyone knew what to do—well, a day ago he would have said it was Misman or Lula. Now, though, he must turn toward the High Fae and those who best wielded their magic.

He was going to protect Katty. And when all of it was done, Braam would lay the choice before her: stay with him at the Hollow Court or return to her own kind. After last night, she’d almost be a fool to stay.

Beneath all Braam’s determination, a painful twinge slowed him. He barely knew his bride. Yet he was certain he would feel the absence of her when she was gone.

As was his habit, Braam passed through the kitchens, greeting Lula and the chef as he went through, behaving as though he were inspecting the place instead of looking for a fresh roll. A tray was set on the counter before him, piping hot and smelling of honey and butter. Braam took in a deep breath, narrowly resisting the urge to reach for one.

“Please have the next batch sent to my Lady’s chambers,” he said to the translucent-winged kitchen maid. “If there is no answer, leave them by the door for her”—what should he call Bibi and Rineke? Former bridesmaids?—"ladies-in-waiting to fetch."

No longer able to resist, Braam snatched a roll for himself, tossing it lightly to avoid burning his fingers. It was so light and flaky, his mouth began to water before tasting it. Already, he felt his mood brightening.

Sinking his teeth into the roll as he entered the front of Hollow Hall, Braam hummed to himself and licked butter from his lips, telling himself there was not a thing wrong that couldn’t be fixed. Besides, the arrival of the apple tithe was a day for celebration, both of the crop and of the hard work his people put into their groves. It wouldn’t do to greet it with a sour mood, no matter what he felt inside.

Braam nodded his head and returned good mornings to fae in every corner of the Hall, in each of the sitting rooms and his study. They were still cleaning from the wedding celebration the night before—what there had been of it.

It must’ve been strange for the rest to take place in silence. From the look of it, as he peeked into the ballroom, the guests had set into the food and then departed. It was nowhere near as messy as the typical fae celebration ought to have been.

“Good morning, my lord,” Hugo said, a massive tablecloth he struggled to fold in his hands.

“Good morning, Hugo.” Braam hung back a moment, wondering whether he dared ask. “What time did the guests leave?”

Hugo shifted from foot to foot. “The last of them? Maybe an hour after her ladyship left.” He lowered his head, face flushing as it so often did. “They made sure no food that would spoil was left behind. The rest will be prepared to fete the tithers this morning.”

“Good.” Braam nodded, pressing both palms into the top of his cane until the lower one ached. It was bad luck to have a guest leave hungry at a celebration—worse luck when it was a wedding celebration that ended far too soon.

With a final nod, Braam turned, eyes sweeping over the room as he went. A bit of slime from the revel still clung to the pillar.

It wasn’t just Katty that troubled him. The glamours on his court were still nearly impossible to remove; he’d had to pry up the few he’d personally broken. It should’ve been half a day’s work to clean up the ballroom instead of more than a week’s. The Hollow Court’s magic was different—almostskewed.

Dying,Braam thought darkly. He shoved the thought away.Apple harvest. Celebratory mood. Right.He shoved the remainder of the roll into his mouth and licked the butter from his fingers and lips.

Braam had often been amazed by how often being a Court’s Lord meant adopting an air of contentment. Of all the things his father had prepared him for, he’d never mentioned this. Braam wondered how many times his father had been miserable inside and hid it, and whether, as the old Lord’s son, he should’ve been able to tell the difference. Then again, the Hollow Court was not a storm-tossed ship in his father’s day. Perhaps his contentment had been real.

Such a luxury,Braam thought of genuine happiness. It pleased him to know his father’s tenure had been less troubled, even as he wondered why the gods had not seen fit to bless his own.

No matter,Braam told himself, sniffing. As he thought of his days with his father and mother, which were either better or blissfully unaware—Better,he decided, because of their love and the way they so intuitively shared the court’s burdens between them—a sudden bit of dust made his eyes sting and start to water.

He had always known his parents’ match was a good and rare thing, and that he would be a fortunate man indeed if he found such a bond with his own life’s companion. He had searched for just that, as a younger man, and eventually given up.

And then his court, for some unfathomable reason, had staked its future on a fragile human with no magic at all, putting her squarely in his path. The geas had made it clear: his lands wanted Katty. For other reasons, so did he.

Even now he wished to drive her wild as he had in the Grove that night, to show her all the earthly pleasures he’d learned to summon with experience and age. He had thought there would be more of that on their wedding night, that he’d find himself apologizing to his maids over another destroyed bed, another picture knocked off the wall. The thought of Katty’s soft skin left him aching, for he knew what it was now to drive his partner mad with pleasure and joy and lust, to push his own body beyond its limits in the name of doing the same for her. Naturally, his hip had a few opinions on the matter, but he would have downed any dram to sate that driving need he’d discovered for his bride, to let the trust she’d placed in him flower into—into what?

Into a partnership of equals. Into something like his dream. For in their joining, he’d sensed something more between them, something that went beyond his hunger for her body, for the thrill he knew she felt at his touch. Something ancient and endless, like an ember of magic flaring to life.

But would they ever share the weight of the court equally? How could they, when her body could be broken by the power of fae songs? Or when the best thing for her was to leave his court as soon as possible, and never return.

Braam sighed and put his hand to his forehead. The apple carts were on their way, and he was letting emotion get the better of him. Braam scrubbed at his face until he was ready to face his court again, then proceeded toward the foyer.

He was not halfway down the hall before he saw the figure—herfigure. Lithe but shapely, her long hair falling straight behind her—he could not mistake that silhouette for anyone else’s.

Braam swallowed. After their parting and her behavior during the Wild Hunt, she had no reason to revisit the Hollow Court. Nogoodreason, to be sure.