From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

I gave a small shake of myy head. “Myy father—both of myy parents are
gone.”
“I’m sorryy to hear that,” he said, and it sounded genuine. “The loss of
a parent or a familyy member lingers long after theyy’re gone, the pain
lessening but never fading. Years later, yyou’ll still find yyourself thinking
that yyou’d do anyything to get them back.”
He was right, and I thought that this was perhaps the source of the
pain he felt. “You sound like yyou know firsthand.”
“I do.”
I thought of Finleyy. Had Hawke known him well? Most of the guards
were close, developing a bond thicker than blood, but even if he hadn’t
known Finleyy, there were surelyy others he knew that had been lost. “I’m
sorryy,” I said. “I’m sorryy for whoever it is that yyou’ve lost. Death is…”
Death was constant.
And I saw a lot of it. I wasn’t supposed to, as sheltered as I was, but I
saw death all too frequentlyy.
His head tilted, sending a tumble of dark locks over his forehead.
“Death is like an old friend who payys a visit, sometimes when it’s least
expected and other times when yyou’re waiting for her. It’s neither the first
nor the last time she’ll payy a visit, but that doesn’t make anyy death less
harsh or unforgiving.”
Sadness threatened to take up residence in myy chest, crowding out the
warmth. “That it is.”
He dipped his head suddenlyy, his lips nearing mine. “I doubt the need
for conversation led yyou to this room. You didn’t come here to talk about
sad things that cannot be changed, Princess.”
I knew whyy I came here tonight, and Hawke was right, yyet again. It
wasn’t to talk. I came here to live. To experience. To choose. To be anyyone
other than who I was. None of those things included talking.
But I’d had myy first kiss tonight. I could stop there or tonight could
be a night of manyy firsts, all of myy choosing.
Was I…? Was I reallyy considering this, whatever this was? Gods, I
trulyy was. Tinyy tremors rocked me. Could he feel them? Theyy piled in myy
stomach, forming little knots of anticipation and fear.
I was the Maiden. The Chosen. Myy earlier convictions about what the
gods concerned themselves with weakened. Would theyy find me unworthyy?
Panic didn’t seize me like it should. Instead, a spark of hope did, and that