Page 53 of Hollow Court

“Well, I can see the appeal, I suppose.” With that dubious compliment, she moved on to loudly complaining about the lack of decent prospects for her son when Gwyndolyn refused to entertain suitors.

The sad part was, she was probably some of the more desirable company at this table. Most of my other options were staring daggers at me.

Worse still was knowing that in the end, I really was no different from any of them. I, too, had wanted to believe that Davin belonged to me on some level.

And I, too, had been wrong.

The Broken Promise

GALINA

A Year and a Half Ago

The snowstorm had hit with little warning, blanketing the grounds in white and leaving the rooftop inaccessible. It was unfortunate, as I could have used the blast of cold air to cool down after an evening of having the most advantageous back-up nuptials I could hope for discussed by Sir Iiro and Uncle Mikhail.

I knew better than to call for a maid when I returned later than usual to my rooms. Davin, I had learned, hated to be alone. When the weather was too bad to make it to the rooftop, he inevitably sought me out here.

So, when the telltale pattern of his knock sounded on my passageway door, I didn’t even bother to turn around before calling for him to enter. Instead, I stayed at my vanity where I was yanking pins out of my hair.

The door opened and shut quietly, then there was the sound of liquid being poured before a glass of white wine appeared in my periphery.

I raised my eyebrows, wincing as a pin got stuck.

“Iborroweda bottle from Theodope’s stash,” he said with a shrug.

“He hates when you do that,” I said sardonically, referring both to the thievery and the nickname.

“I know,” Davin’s mischievous grin reflected in my mirror, and it was impossible not to return, despite my sour mood. “But I figured you could use it after tonight.”

I stopped fighting with my hair long enough to take a hearty sip before returning to the damned pins that were intent to nest in my braids for the rest of my life.

“I could, indeed. It’s one thing when my uncle arranges my marriage, but Iiro—” I stopped just short of insulting the duke of the clan we were visiting.

Davin really was a terrible influence.

“I’m just glad he’s leaving tomorrow,” I finished up, finding that it was true.

In the years that I had known him and had known his brother, we had gotten along well enough, which had always been a relief since I was supposed to marry Theodore. But now… Now everything was uncertain and Iiro was putting his nose in places it didn't belong. He had no say in the affairs of another clan if his people weren’t involved.

“I hadn’t heard that,” Davin said. “But I think I’ll have a drink to celebrate.”

A string of curses escaped me as another pin got stuck in my braid. The maid who had done my hair had clearly made it her personal responsibility to ensure that this particular set of braids lasted for the rest of my life.

“I don’t think he’s telling anyone, but Inessa mentioned it,” I said distractedly. “He has some business with Eagle.”

Davin stopped in the motion of pouring his drink, coming to cover my hand with his. “Here, let me.”

“Does your skill repertoire extend to hair now?” I asked, though I promptly quieted when he did, in fact, start expertly undoing my hair.

“I’m sorry, Lina, you were saying?” he intoned, his fingers rubbing a soothing pattern in each spot he removed a pin.

Lina. He had taken to calling me that after just three days of meeting on the rooftop at Ram.

I wasn’t sure if he even knew what a breach of Socairan etiquette it was, how intimate it was to call someone by a shortened version of their name.

Though, if he had known, he probably would have just done it sooner.

I told myself that was why I hadn’t bothered telling him.