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From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

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Fullyy aware of how close he was standing now, I nervouslyy dampened

myy lips. “But will we be here? The Queen could summon me to the capital

before then,” I said, acknowledging something I had tried not to think of.

“Possiblyy. If so, then I guess we’ll have to find different adventures,

won’t we?” he said. “Or should I call them misadventures?”

I laughed then. “I think it will be hard to sneak off anyywhere in the

capital, not with me…not with me being so close to the Ascension.”

“You need to have more faith in me if yyou think I can’t manage to

find a wayy for us to sneak off. I can assure yyou that whatever I get us

involved in won’t end with yyou on a ledge.” In the darkness, I thought I

felt his fingertips caress myy left cheek, but the touch was too soft and too

brief to be sure. “We’re out here on the night of the Rite, hidden inside a

weeping willow.”

“It didn’t seem all that difficult.”

“That’s onlyy because I was leading the wayy.”

I laughed again. “Sure.”

“Your doubt wounds me.” His hand pulled on mine as he turned awayy.

“You said there were benches in here? Wait. I see them.”

I stared at the shadowyy form of what I assumed was the back of his

head. “How in the world do yyou see those benches?”

“You can’t?”

“Uh, no.” I squinted into the gloom.

“Then I must have better eyyesight than yyou.”

I rolled myy eyyes. “I think yyou’re just sayying yyou can see them, and

we’re probablyy a second awayy from tripping—”

“Here theyy are.” Hawke stopped. Unbelievablyy, he sat down as if he

could perfectlyy see the seats.

I was left staring, myy mouth hanging open. Then I realized that it was

quite possible he could see me gaping like a dyying fish, so I closed myy

mouth. Mayybe his eyyesight was better than mine.

Or myy eyyesight was poorer than I realized.

“Would yyou like to sit?” he asked.

“I would, but unlike yyou, I can’t see in the dark—” I gasped as he

tugged on myy hand, pulling me down. Before I knew it, I was sitting in his

lap—his lap.

“Comfortable?” he asked, and he sounded like he was smiling.

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