Page 32 of Hollow Court
If I had been wrong about the culpability falling solely on myself, if my clan was going to face the repercussions for what I had done alone, then that was a question I might be forced to answer sooner rather than later.
TWELVE
Davin
When Galina left,I swept a glance around the tavern, trying to gauge everyone’s reaction to her presence as dispassionately as possible.
My usual smirk felt like it was pasted to my face, but I kept it up anyway, trying to hide the irritation I felt at the innkeeper’s clear disdain for my…well, my nothing. But she was still a person.
With a sigh, I made my way to the barman while Gallagher took a seat at one of the long tables.
Alastair was usually the talkative sort, but he was close-lipped tonight.
I was forced to abandon my more congenial approach for some decidedly less friendly conversation, wherein I made a thinly veiled threat to tell the man’s wife about his questionable liaisons at the local brothel.
His eyes widened, and he shot a fearful glance around the tavern.
“All I can tell ye is, there were a couple o’ men in here last night, talking about the Socairan wen—the Lady Galina,” he corrected himself quickly. “They weren’t happy to hear she was coming with you.”
It took every tool in my substantial arsenal to keep the shock from my features. No one should have known she was coming, and certainly not her name.
“What else did our rebel friends share?” I asked, outwardly nonchalant.
He shook his head, and I sighed. I hated to lose him as a future source, but I needed to know what he knew.
“Come on now, Alastair.” My voice was quiet and cajoling. “I’d hate to let on how forthcoming you’ve always been…”
The blood drained from his face.
“So, if you just tell me what you know, I’ll laugh like we’re sharing a joke, and I’ll head back upstairs,” I assured him with a shrug.
He swallowed, nodding.
“They didna say anything else, but they weren’t just the regular sort. They were from the Uprising.”
I bit back a curse. This upstart group of rebels had been cropping up everywhere, though so far, as little more than a whisper in the wind.
It had crossed my mind that the entire outfit was more of a scapegoat than a real threat, a convenient boogeyman in the night to blame for every bit of death and dissension that had come our way since Rowan’s wedding.
Alastair’s fear was real enough, though, and he hadn’t hesitated this way in the past.
True to my word, I let out a light chuckle, sliding several coins across the bar before strolling casually from the room. There was a prickling feeling between my shoulder blades, like someone was watching me all the way out.
* * *
It wasGalina who answered my sharp rap at the door, and I couldn’t suppress a scowl. Did she even realize how vulnerable she was by doing that? She hadn’t so much as called to see who was on the other side.
“Guess you just open the door for every assailant who comes along,” I told her, the barman’s words still echoing in my ears.
She shot me an irritable look. She was already freshly bathed and dressed in a thick dressing gown, her hair in a damp braid pulled over one shoulder.
“I recognized your knock,” she informed me curtly. “And I assumed if you were knocking, it was with the expectation to have the door opened.”
It was easy to forget, sometimes, how familiar we had once been. How I had come to her rooms with regularity, often enough for her to know my knock…even now, apparently.
I swallowed back the uncomfortable emotion I didn’t have time to dissect. “Just…let Gwyn open next time.”
“Yes, My Laird.” The phrase she had uttered demurely in front of the men was dripping with sarcasm now.