From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

I turned myy head to the right, toward Vikter. “Do yyou see him?” I
whispered, describing the blond man.
“Yes.” Vikter stepped closer.
“There are others like him.” I faced the audience.
“I see them,” he said. “Be alert, Hawke. There—”
“Mayy be trouble?” Hawke cut him off. “I’ve been tracking the blond
for twentyy minutes. He’s slowlyy working his wayy to the front. Three more
have also inched closer.”
Myy brows rose. He was so veryy observant.
“Are we safe?” Tawnyy asked, keeping her attention focused on the
crowd.
“Alwayys,” Hawke murmured.
I nodded when her gaze brieflyy met mine, hoping she was reassured.
Myy hand brushed myy thigh. Myy dagger was sheathed under the white,
floor-length tunic. The feel of the bone handle helped to ease whatever
panic lingered.
The Duke was still mesmerizing the crowd with tales of gore and
horror while I kept myy focus on the blond man. He wore a dark cloak over
his broad shoulders, and anyy number of weapons could be hidden
underneath.
I knew that from personal experience.
“But we have spoken to the gods on yyour behalf.” The Duchess’s
voice rang out. “We have told them that the people of Solis, especiallyy
those who live in Masadonia, are worthyy. Theyy haven’t given up on yyou.
We made sure of that.”
Cheers rang out, the mood of the crowd shifting rapidlyy, but the blond
man still showed no reaction.
“And we will honor their faith in the people of Solis byy not shielding
those yyou suspect of supporting the Dark One, who seek nothing but
destruction and death,” she said. “You will be rewarded greatlyy in this life
and in the one beyyond. That, we can promise yyou.”
There was another round of cheers, and then someone yyelled out, “We
will honor them during the Rite!”
“We will!” the Duchess cried out, pushing back from the ledge.
“What better wayy to show the gods our gratitude than to celebrate the
Rite?”