Page 52 of Hollow Court

I took a long sip from my coffee cup, less because I needed to and more to conceal my features while I processed what he had just said.

Wonderful.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t known on some level how many women would be after my fake fiancé. Even with the vote, it was a win-win for them. If he won, they would be the next Lady of Lithlinglau, and if he lost, well, they would still be marrying one of the royal family members.

I had been so focused on so many other things, I hadn’t given much thought to how exhausting it would all be, ingratiating myself into a new court that was already full of enemies.

I had no choice, though. At least I had been raised for this. On the road, I had been less than useless, especially next to Gwyn.

But this… This, I could do.

* * *

The next fewdays were a flurry of arriving courtiers who met me with various levels of disdain.

In fairness, not as many of them appeared to be concerned about me being Socairan as they were about me taking their precious marquess off the market. It would have been easier, if I could have told them he was all theirs.

There were two women who stood out more than the others. Lady Fiona Shaw and Lady Gracie MacBay. They had arrived in a carriage together, apparently having been staying at Fiona’s southern estate, something which Gracie looked decidedly displeased about.

Gracie was pretty, with light-brown hair and a sprinkling of freckles across her rosy cheeks.

But Fiona was flawless.

Midnight tresses hung in loose waves over her bare shoulders, pinned back at the sides with ornate combs. Her gown was low cut, expertly hugging each of her curves in a way that had nearly every man in the room helpless to keep their eyes off of her. I was pleased to note the prince was an obvious exception.

Gallagher, slightly less so, but he did an admirable job of at least trying to avert his gaze.

Fiona was well aware of the effect she had, angling her body just so as she expertly wound her way through the crowd. In fact, I suspected that nothing the woman did was unintentional.

She assessed me with deep-blue, kohl-lined eyes, like a predator searches its prey for weaknesses.

Though her questions were outwardly innocuous, I got the sense she was cataloging my every answer to twist toward her purposes. Gracie was her polar opposite, warmer and kinder and clearly not a fan of Fiona’s.

But there was something too knowing in the familiar way they both said his name, endearing in Gracie’s case and possessive in Fiona’s.

I guarded my words even more carefully than usual before politely excusing myself to sit at a table far, far away, hoping I could limit my interactions with them.

We were at another of our daily teas where I smiled and complimented and worked on charming the court, which was markedly easier with Jocelyn’s help.

She had managed to weave a story of star-crossed lovers without actually admitting I was here for Davin. As I sank into the seat next to her, she was again, working toward that end.

“Of course,” the princess said in a conspiratorial tone. “She had to come visit after Davin had told us so much about her.”

It was no mystery where her son got his lying skills from.

“Indeed,” Lady Fenella said. “How did they meet?”

It was a good thing I was used to being talked about as though I wasn’t in the room, because Lady Fenella did a fabulous job of it. Though, it was better than when she directed her words at me, speaking loudly and overenunciating like she thought I struggled to grasp the common tongue.

Jocelyn shot me a subtle look that told me she knew exactly how irritating it was before smiling at the odious woman.

“I gather they met at court during my son’s…extended stay in Socair, but it seems their friendship blossomed on a rooftop, of all places.”

Despite years of training, I nearly choked on my tea. That had not been in the letter, and I certainly hadn’t mentioned it. Jocelyn’s sideways glance took on a whole new meaning now.

I had no idea what to make of any of it.

Lady Fenella nodded, looking intrigued, if not exactly charmed. The feathers in her headdress seemed to quiver with the force of her curiosity as she took in my seated form.