Page 78 of Fragile Oath

A tapping sound interrupted my thoughts, and it took me entirely too long to realize it was coming, not from my quill or the front door, but from the balcony.

Where only Galina ever came.

I crossed the room in several quick strides, trying not to think about why she might be here and if I was ready for any conversations that might ensue. Bracing myself, I pulled back the curtains to find Galina standing on the other side of the glass, accompanied by the dog Avani and I had procured just that morning.

A gentle dusting of snow covered her hair and lashes, and her cheeks were already pink from the cold. The dog, too, had snowflakes rapidly settling in her fur. I worked quickly to unlock the door, stepping back for them to come in.

I couldn’t help but give her a quick onceover, looking for any signs that something was wrong. Her eyes were red-rimmed, which could have been from the blustery temperatures, but given her presence here, likely wasn’t. Otherwise, she appeared to be unharmed.

And gorgeous, an unhelpful voice in the back of my head reminded me.

Even in that thick, shapeless velvet dressing gown with her hair braided back, she was beautiful, but it was more than just her appearance. Her resting Socairan face was noticeably absent for the first time since I had found her in that inn, replaced by something…softer.

“Galina,” I greeted, unsure what else to say. “Is everything all right?”

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed loudly through the room.

“As all right as it can be,” she said, pushing an escaped strand of hair behind her ear in a rare display of uncertainty. The world’s gaudiest ring glinted in the moonlight.

Had I known Blaine was still holding a grudge, I would have gone to fetch a ring myself. Clearly, he still hadn’t forgiven her for leaving, since he ordinarily had excellent taste.

“What is it?” I asked, concern edging into my tone.

She spoke quickly. “Earlier, Gallagher mentioned something about a mountain of correspondence, and I know you must be at your limit, so I just thought, perhaps, since I wasn’t sleeping anyway, I could help—”

Have I ever heard her ramble before?

“Help would be nice,” I cut off her stream of words, moving further into the room.

She followed, gesturing to the dog. “Come, Malishka.”

I turned back to look at her, curiosity and amusement getting the best of me.

“You named your ferocious guard dogbaby girl?” I asked.

“Avani says she is still a puppy,” she replied, somewhat defensively. “So it seemed fitting.”

I hummed noncommittally, noting the light flush on her cheeks despite my very best efforts not to. It was harder when she was in my room, standing by my bed, looking so similar to how she had the night she had promised she would stay.

Then she had disappeared and returned as the earlier, guarded version of herself.

And now she was here.

Clearing my throat in an effort to rid myself of those thoughts, I pointed to a stack of letters, one of many teetering on the surfaces of my desk. My family had been helping me sort through them with varying degrees of success, but Galina had an organized mind and an eye for observation.

“If you want to start there, I’m trying to work out who might have actually seen something that night. Those are the contacts I’ve heard back from.”

She nodded, and we set to work in silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire, the scratching of both of our quills, and Malishka’s occasional yawn.

I tried to pretend the air between us wasn’t charged with all the things we refused to say, tried to lose myself in the endless letters at my side. When I finally set my quill down to flex my hand, Galina’s eyes tracked the motion before darting back to her letter.

Still, her own quill froze, and she delicately cleared her throat.

“I – I hated the soup tonight.”

I looked at her askance. I had known that, of course, had teased her about it weeks ago, but she had never once admitted it.

“Did you?” I asked, raising my eyebrows slightly.

---