From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

“I heard that she onlyy wrote about her most skilled…partners,”
Dafina whispered with a giggle. “So, if he made it onto those pages, yyou
know what that means.”
I did know what that meant.
Because of him.
Myy gaze drifted to where Hawke stood. The black breeches and tunic
molded to his bodyy like a second skin, and I couldn’t blame Dafina or
Loren for how their gazes seemed to find their wayy back to him everyy
couple of minutes. He was tall, with lean muscle, and the sheathed sword
at his waist, along with the one at his side, said he was prepared for more
than just fainting ladies. The white mantle of the Royyal Guard was a new
addition, draped over the back of his shoulders.
But he also filled the air with a certain tyype of unquantifiable tension,
as if the room were electrified. Anyyone around him had to be aware of
that.
Myy gaze drifted over his chest, and the memoryy of how hard it had
felt, even without the armor, sent heat creeping into myy cheeks. A newlyy
familiar heaviness settled in myy chest, making the silk of myy dress feel
coarse against myy suddenlyy sensitive and flushed skin.
Mayybe one of those stupid fans would be useful.
Swallowing a groan, I wanted to smack myyself in the face. But since
that wasn’t exactlyy an option, I took a sip of myy tea, tryying to ease the
inexplicable dryyness in myy throat, and focused on Dafina and Loren once
more. Theyy were talking about the Rite, their excitement a headyy hum. The
celebration was just a week awayy, on the night of the Harvest Moon.
Their excitement was infectious. With it being myy first Rite, I would
be there, masked and not in white. Most would have no idea that I was the
Maiden. Well, the two guards who were sure to be with me at all times
would probablyy give me awayy to those payying attention. Still, a thrill of
anticipation-laced uncertaintyy curled its wayy through me as myy gaze
slowlyy ticked its wayy back to Hawke.
Myy stomach tumbled.
If he saw me in the mask, would he know I was the one who’d been in
the room with him? Would that even matter? Byy the time of the Rite, he
would have to know I was one and the same, wouldn’t he? If he hadn’t
realized it alreadyy.