Page 41 of Hollow Court

Galina

Present Day

Gallagherand I traveled at the same relentless pace for nearly a week, sticking as much as we could to back roads until it was time to stop at an inn for the night.

There wasn’t much opportunity for conversation, but Gallagher was as congenial as ever, helpfully telling me about the royal family and the court and anything else he thought I needed to know whenever we stopped for breaks.

He didn’t say much about Davin’s parents, which made me slightly nervous.

Would they be upset about the arrangement? Lithlinglau was Davin’s, so in theory, it was his decision whether I stayed there, but his father was a prince. At home, I knew what to expect, but here… Here, everything was different.

Even the landscape.

The Lochlannian countryside was nothing like the snowy mountain town I hailed from or the storm-swept plains near the Obsidian Palace.

Here, there was an abundance of life.

There were sprawling purple-and-gold hills, punctuated with lakes and rivers and streams. Fat, wild birds and antlered creatures ambled through the tall grass, and more than once, we had to stop while the soldiers shooed enormous fluffy cows from the path.

It was all too open and vaguely chaotic, much like its inhabitants.

The buildings were different, too. In the mountains, we built up, but here, the estates were sprawling. And ugly. Made from blocks of solid gray stone, they seemed to be built for defense rather than beauty.

I stuffed down a wave of homesickness, trying not to think about the gilded, colorful domes that always welcomed me back to my family estate.

And then, Lithlinglau came into view.

Somehow, I knew this was Davin’s home before Gallagher even announced it. Despite my best efforts, I must have made a face, because the duke chuckled under his breath.

“Welcome to the most coveted estate in all of Lochlann.”

I didn’t have to wonder why.

It was the largest castle I had ever seen, and unlike the other Lochlannian estates that we’d passed, it was far from ugly. It was all pristine white turrets and elegant wrought-iron balconies nestled in the rolling hills and silhouetted by a sparkling blue lake.

The castle wasn’t without its defenses, either. An outer wall made of the same white stone and topped with wicked-looking iron spikes edged the property, leaving an enormous amount of space for stables and grazing animals.

For all that Davin had talked about politics and rebellions, I wondered if part of him just couldn’t bear to part with this place.

We entered the gate, making our way to the back of the property on a path of black-and-white gravel, lined by artfully trimmed hedges.

I almost laughed out loud, remembering the sheer number of times I had pictured Davin’s quaint family home in a village somewhere. There was, in fairness, a village in the distance. One that he owned.

After we dismounted, Gallagher led me in through the main doors, past several curious maids, and straight up a gleaming white staircase.

I was no stranger to opulence. The clan estates in Socair were filled to the brim with antique furniture and jeweled chandeliers. In Ram, nearly all of the windows were stained glass, and my uncle had a collection of jeweled eggs worth more than my father’s much-more-modest castle.

This was a different kind of wealth, everything large and open and modern and bright. It felt almost empty, by comparison.

We came to a halt at the end of a well-guarded hallway, stopping just outside of a sage-colored door.

Gallagher rapped his knuckles against the frame.

“It’s Gal,” he called through the wood.

A deep voice told us to enter.

Gallagher opened the door, gesturing for me to follow. No sooner had I crossed the threshold than I halted in my tracks.