Page 91 of Hollow Court

Gwyn shifted uncomfortably to my left, her hazel eyes fixed on Dougal’s form as he joined us on the stage, along with the remaining two traitors.

It took everything I had not to wrench my gaze from the noose around his neck or the unshed emotion in his eyes when he traded one last look with his wife.

Once again, the lever was pulled, the floor gave way, and the rope pulled taut with the weight of the dead.

THIRTY-ONE

Galina

The first ballof the season arrived just a single day after the execution.

It wasn’t anything new for me, going from death to politics. Storms, it wasn’t even new since my arrival here. Wasn’t that what had happened after the explosions?

Still, it was a strange contrast, from a crowded field that smelled of death to the spacious ballroom that dripped in opulence.

Especially when my night had been plagued with visions of the gallows, only it was me hanging from the noose, branded a traitor while my family looked on. Then it was my parents.

Then Davin.

And so on, it had gone.

Anna worked even harder than usual to cover the dark circles under my eyes while I worked to put my nightmares back in the box where they belonged.

So, I focused on the things that were real. The ones I could control.

Like picking out the jewelry I would wear that night, and mentally preparing myself to watch the ladies of court take every excuse to press themselves further against Davin and lean up to whisper in his ear.

Not that they needed an excuse.

Not that my preparations would keep me from actively wanting to shove some of them into the nearest lit fireplace, either.

These things felt small and frivolous in light of everything else, but they were easier to cling to.

And clearly, I wasn’t the only one in need of a distraction.

When Davin and I entered the ballroom, it was already filled to the brim with courtiers desperate to either make light of yesterday’s hangings, or to forget about them entirely.

There were candles everywhere, suspended from the ceiling to look like stars. Flowers and silks and fountains of sparkling wine adorned the room, as an orchestra guided the dancers with their music.

I had been to elegant events before, but Jocelyn had truly outdone herself, giving us something we could all focus on instead of the chaos of the world around us.

Since Davin had hosting duties, we didn’t dance the first dance together. Or the second.

Or any. Which was fine, since I needed to be focused on my prospects. My very, very appealing prospects.

Like Laird Humphrey, who had only tried to accidentally graze his thumb above my ribcage two or three times.

Disrespect for the boundaries of betrothals was apparently an epidemic in Lochlann. As much as it galled me to admit it, Davin had been right when he said our betrothal would only enhance my prospects.

At least, I assumed that was why, when I had to field several comments about “leave it to Davin to go to another kingdom to make sure he has the very best,” followed by proposals of varying subtlety.

Not all of my potential future husbands were terrible, though.

A few were downright congenial, their grips light and polite as they led me around the dance floor, their questions curious without being ignorant. And though it was frustrating, I reminded myself it was why I was here.

I wanted them to be making proposals I could follow up on when the time was right. At the very least, I needed them to.

Still, the dances were endless. In fact, only an hour into the evening, it seemed as though the only laird in the entire storms-damned room who hadn’t tried to claim my hand was the one I was betrothed to.

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