Page 30 of Hollow Court

When they inquired about my presence outright, Davin hedged, but I waited until we were safely ensconced in the carriage to question him about it.

“Second-guessing yourself?” I injected the words with as much nonchalance as I could, though my gut twisted at the very real possibility.

Davin rubbed a hand over his face, smearing the slightest bit of dirt across his brow. I shuddered to think what my own face looked like. Or my hair. Not that the Lochlannians had much room to judge on that front.

“No, Galina. There’s just no need to advertise our betrothal before we’re safely behind the walls of Lithlinglau,” he explained.

I froze, overcome with visions of Alexei’s eyes, narrowed and furious as he dragged me right back beneath the mountain.

“So, it won’t be official for another two weeks?” I asked with far more serenity than I felt.

That was how long Davin had said it would take to get to his estate from here, by carriage. I doubted my ruse about going back home would hold up quite that long, and that wasn’t a gamble I cared to take.

“No.” Davin shook his head, much to my relief. “I’ll send a letter to my aunt and uncle from the inn, declaring it. Anyone who comes through the tunnels needs permission first, and that goes directly through Castle Chridhe, so that will kill two birds with one stone.”

Gallagher whistled under his breath, pulling my attention toward him. He looked about as tired as I felt. Faint bruises hung beneath his eyes like crescent moons, and, like Davin and the rest of the men, he had several days’ worth of stubble.

“You’d better tell him not to write Lithlinglau until you can get there,” he said to Davin. Then, to me, he explained further. “Auntie Jocelyn might actually murder Dav if she has to hear about his betrothal from Uncle Logan.”

Gwyn winced, and Davin made a face. “Good looking out, Cousin.”

I didn’t ask the obvious question, whether she would be upset hearing about it in person as well. Whether both of his parents would. Davin had been resolutely silent on the matter, and I supposed it didn’t make much of a difference.

Though, everything I heard about Princess Jocelyn made me wonder if she was even more terrifying than their notorious king.

* * *

It wasa short ride to the inn after that.

The building was a solid, artless rectangle, smaller and simpler than anything I would have expected Davin to choose. Several of the other buildings on either side of the inn appeared newer and even nicer, but with a hand on my back, he led me into this one.

As soon as we stepped inside, I could see it was nothing at all like the inns we had stayed at in Socair. For one thing, there were so many people, and they were all so different from one another. Where my people were mostly tall and muscular with olive-toned skin and sharp, defined features, Lochlannians were apparently an array of color and size and shape.

Just in this tavern, they ranged from a freckled man so pale he was nearly translucent to a tiny woman with deep umber skin and piercing blue eyes, and several in between—closer to the twins’ shade of light brown.

And while the inns in Socair had been filled with the typical hum of conversation, perhaps a booming laugh on occasion—this was something else entirely.

It was a cacophony of people talking over each other in boisterous conversation, cheering when they were victorious at a game involving mugs of ale and a small ball. One notable gentleman was drunkenly singing a song that brought a flush to my cheeks.

I felt Davin’s gaze on me, and I forced myself to look a bit less scandalized.

He chuckled anyway, the smarmy bastard.

“Are they always this…outspoken?” I asked, choosing the word carefully in case I offended anyone close by.

“This is nothing,” he said with a disarmingly casual grin. “It’s barely sundown.”

A round woman with graying hair made her way over to us, and Davin angled himself in front of me. Intentionally?

“Did you miss me, Ms. Agatha?” he asked in a teasing tone, barely audible over the din.

“Don’t try to charm me, mi’laird, when we both ken well yer cousin is the nice one,” she said with affection.

“I’m wounded,” Davin said, just as Gallagher chimed in, “I always tell him the same thing.”

My lips parted in surprise. My uncle would have died before allowing a villager to be so familiar. Or rather,he would have killed.

The woman’s gaze landed on me, then, her countenance going flat.

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