Page 22 of Hollow Court
Galina’s presence was a small reprieve from those thoughts. She had come with us to “discuss marriage options” with the heir to Clan Elk, something she had been resolutely stoic about.
Of course, she was that way about everything.
Tonight, like every night, she found her way to the glacial rooftop. And like every night, she sat down just far enough away to pretend we were both here by happenstance.
I held out my flask to her and she took a long swig—longer than usual—pulling a face when she was done. I raised my eyebrows.
“Was your night with our favorite dishwater lord so horrible?”
“You’re horrible,” she muttered, though there was a smile in her voice. “And so is this,” she added, shooting an accusatory glance at the contents of the flask.
Three weeks.That was how long it had taken her to admit she didn’t like vodka, and still, that small glimpse of the person behind her perfect façade felt like a victory.
I tilted my head. “Why do you drink it if you don’t like it?”
“It’s what’s expected of me,” she said with a delicate shrug.
“And you always do everything that’s expected of you?” I pressed.
“Not always,” she said, her eyes darting pointedly from the balcony to the flask to me.
Touché.
“Then why this? Would your uncle really punish you for having the nerve to request chilled white wine instead?”
She raised an eyebrow at my knowledge of her preferred drink.
“It’s not about fear,” she explained. “It’s about loyalty. You must have seen by now that Socairans take appearances seriously. If I disobey my uncle or insult someone by snubbing their family’s noble distillery, that reflects badly on the entire clan.”
I could hardly argue that. Wasn’t that what Rowan and I had done? Disobeyed the king by smuggling vodka, and gotten caught by the enemy doing it? And it had, in fact, reflected badly on all of us.
Still, I thought of everything else Galina did because it was expected of her. I pictured her sitting demurely next to Lord Theodore—orTheodope, as I fondly thought of him. Would she smile graciously at every boring, noble thing he said, like she didn’t notice or care that he was besotted with my cousin?
“So your taste doesn’t come into account, then?” I wondered if she realized that I was talking about more than her choice in drink.
When her searching eyes met mine, I suspected that she did.
“Is loyalty really loyalty if it’s only on your terms?” Her quiet words were more of a declaration than a question. “At that point, you’re simply making a choice to go in line with something so long as it fits with what you already wanted to do. That’s not loyalty, it’s convenience.”
I thought about my family back home, about the lengths to which Rowan went to keep me safe, the lengths to which I would go to do the same for her. How many times had Avani covered for us even after she warned us not to do something, even though she took the most blame from our people as the heir to the throne?
I nodded, conceding Galina’s point.
“Besides, he’s hardly the worst I could do,” she added with another long drink.
My lips tugged up into a smirk. “What an overwhelming endorsement. Perhaps one day, I shall be lucky enough to receive similar praise from my future wife.”
“Will the future Mrs. Davin be a love match, then? Or just someone who falls all over themselves at your powers of seduction?”
My smile widened. “Both would be preferred, obviously, though the latter is certainly the priority.”
She let out a delicate snort as she held the flask back to me, and I wondered if the vodka was going to her head tonight.
“What? You’ve never even considered wanting more than LordHardly the worst I could do?” I demanded, taking a swig.
Galina shook her head. “Believe it or not, most of the marriages here are happy ones. People build their lives on principles, not some fleeting feeling that’s intangible and indefinable at best.”
“And at worst?” For some reason, my voice came out a rasp.