Page 104 of Hollow Court
I might have even believed her façade, if not for the way she avoided meeting my eyes.
Not that I was trying either. I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to read whatever was churning in her icy gaze.
It was too much to hope that no one would notice, but at least my family didn’t outright comment. Even Gwyn was uncharacteristically restrained, exchanging only a subtle—well, subtle for her—look with Gallagher before turning back to me.
Once everyone was seated around my desk, coffee in hand, I delivered the news.
“The vote has been moved up.” Despite my best efforts, frustration edged my tone.
A silence descended over the room like a dense cloud of fog.
“Tavish?” my father asked.
I took a deep breath, considering what I knew. “I strongly suspect.”
“How the hell can he do that?” Gwyn exclaimed. “We have spies everywhere. Surely we would have heard something before now.”
She wasn’t wrong. Spies everywhere should have included mine, and those of my parents. It was concerning that we hadn’t heard a single word about the timeline move before getting the official notice.
“Apparently not.” I gritted my teeth. “It would seem that Gracie was right about him winning over the docket master. She seems to believe Tavish is working on the other lairds, as well. Her father included.”
Galina’s otherwise calculating gaze wavered slightly at the mention of Gracie’s name before she schooled her expression once again.
I tossed the letter on the table before explaining our new timeline. Gal pulled the parchment over, his auburn brows furrowing as he skimmed it.
“...For the purpose of a fair vote, it isimperative to exclude lairds with bias, including, but not limited to; family members…” His tone was incredulous as he read. “So, he’s not only gotten the date moved, but he’s also managed to stack the Assembly?”
Gwyn’s knuckles went white as she clenched her fists, leaning over her twin’s shoulder to read the rest.
“That’s a bold move, severing our entire family from the vote,” she said.
“Well, it’s paid off,” I muttered darkly.
Tavish and I were already excluded for obvious reasons, but preventing our families from voting affected me far more than it did him. I might have understood the stipulation, except that the vague wording could mean that even the distant cousins were out, which was solidly half of our allies.
“Actually,” my mother said, a small smile creeping onto her face, “he might come to regret the way that was worded. They didn’t say immediate family. The Andersons have many distant relations, by marriage or blood, several of whom are his allies.”
My breath came just a bit easier.
“But their votes don’t count for as many,” I said, mostly for Galina’s sake. At her questioning look, I explained. “The votes for the Assembly are based on several factors, including the number of people under your purview. It’s one of the reasons Lithlinglau is so influential. We, along with the MacBays, have more votes than anyone aside from the King and Queen.”
“Who are now excluded.” Galina said the words neutrally, but the subtle pursing of her lips told me she understood how bad that could be for us.
“Still,” Da’ interjected, “it’s a start, getting the Andersons’ family removed as well.”
We launched into a discussion on strategy after that, throwing out suggestions about which lairds we could potentially still sway, alliances we might forge or favors we could call in. Obviously, we knew my aunts and uncles would help where they could.
We weren’t out of options, at least.
It wasn’t until lunch was over and the others prepared to file out of the room that Galina looked directly at me.
She had remained relatively quiet through the meeting, though her attention hadn’t wavered. I was sure she had some ideas of her own taking root.
“Any court can be won over,” she offered in an undertone. “We can still fix this.”
I arched an eyebrow at her casual use of the wordwe.
She sighed, not pretending to misunderstand. “We are still allies, are we not?”