Page 14 of Hollow Court
“Lady Galina?” he prodded, arching a single eyebrow.
It was strange to hear my full name on his lips, when he had only ever called me Lina. Strange that he had no problem recognizing me by the small bit of my face that was visible.
His voice was low, cultured enough that I berated myself all over again for ever believing he was a commoner. Even if the common tongue was my second language, Davin exuded nobility.
That was the reminder I needed to straighten my spine. There was nothing here but a history I could go my whole life without revisiting, and I had far bigger problems to face.
The burgeoning bruises that tugged at my spine when I stood taller was evidence enough of that.
“May I come in?” I meant for the words to sound neutral, but each one fell like an icicle, shattering in the weighty tension between us.
If my request shocked him, he didn’t show it, though curiosity and wariness churned in his cerulean gaze.
“I told the soldiers you were expecting me,” I said quietly.
Of course, I had kept my head down in hopes that they wouldn’t know who I was, and it was hardly unusual that Davin would be expecting a random woman to show up at his door.
He blinked. “Did you now?”
For half a heartbeat, I wondered if he would turn me away, if all the bravery I had mustered to come here would be for nothing. Then he shifted back to allow me entry.
“Well, we wouldn’t want to make a liar out of you.” He might have been teasing, but for the barest edge to his tone.
The hypocrisy of that sentiment coming from him was enough to chase away any residual nerves. I stepped into his rooms on markedly steadier legs than the ones that had carried me here.
Once he shut the door, I took a moment to inspect the space before lowering my hood, just in case he wasn’t alone. The last thing I needed was for my presence here to generate gossip that would make its way back to Alexei.
The room was vacant, though a half-empty bottle of vodka and two glasses rested on the table near the fire, one his, and the other, presumably, Rowan’s.
He watched me expectantly, his easy stance far more casual than the probing look in his eyes.
“I need to know if you meant what you said,” I began carefully.
“About the vodka being good?” he referred back to our conversation at the ball.
Storms.He was still such alaskipaa. And, unfortunately, my only real hope for getting out of here.
Taking a deep breath, I centered myself, my eyes landing on my favorite charm. A sprig of rosemary, to remember my family when I was in Wolf.
Or Lochlann, as the case may be now. The thought bolstered me.
“About the life debt,” I clarified.
Davin straightened, his brow furrowing.
“What is it that you need?” he asked in a more serious tone.
It didn’t escape my notice that he hadn’t actually answered my question. I had wanted to wait to reveal what I needed until he gave me some sign of agreement. Weighing my options, though, I realized I had exactly none.
The power rested entirely with the man in front of me.
So, something altogether new and different for me,I thought sardonically.
“I need to go to Lochlann,” I admitted, holding back as much of the truth as I could, for now.
He assessed me with a sweeping glance, crossing his arms. “That’s hardly worthy of a life debt.”
It had been easy, in his absence, to forget how storms-damned perceptive Davin could be when he wasn’t flirting and smirking and being generally disarming.