From Blood and Ash(59)

“Yes, I see the spirits of those who’ve made bad life choices,” I replied dryly.

He chuckled. “I doubt anyone will recognize us in the courtyard. Not with both of us masked, and just the moonlight and a few lamps to light the way.” He wiggled his fingers. “Besides, I have a feeling anyone out there will be too busy to care.”

My vast imagination filled in what could possibly cause others to be too busy to care.

“You’re such a bad influence,” I murmured as I placed my hand in his.

Hawke curled his fingers around mine. The weight and warmth of his hand was a pleasant shock. “Only the bad can be influenced, Princess.”





Chapter 24





“That sounds like faulty logic to me,” I told him.

He chuckled as he started toward the garden archway. “My logic is never faulty.”

“I feel like that’s not something one would be aware of if it was,” I pointed out, smiling slightly.

Cold night air greeted us as we stepped outside, and my heart kicked up at the familiar, sweet scent of flowers and rich, damp soil.

My gaze bounced around a little wildly as I looked for something to be off, to be different than the last time I had been here. There had to be. Oil lanterns were spaced throughout the main pathway, but the sections that branched off were dark—the moonlight couldn’t even penetrate them. My steps slowed as the soft breeze rattled the bushes and lifted strands of my hair.

Hawke spoke softly. “One of the last places I saw my brother was a favorite place of mine.”

That snagged my attention, and I stopped scoping out every bunch of flowers we passed, looking for what, I had no idea. It was like I expected to see wilted petals dripping blood, or waited for the Duke to finally make his appearance. Hawke’s earlier anguish over his brother had given me the impression that this was something he didn’t want to discuss, so the topic surprised me.

“Back home, there are hidden caverns that very few people know about,” he continued, his fingers still tightly woven with mine. “You have to walk pretty far in this one particular tunnel. It’s tight and dark. Not a lot of people are willing to follow it to find what awaits at the end.”

“But you and your brother did?”

“My brother, a friend of ours, and I did when we were young and had more bravery than common sense. But I’m glad we did because at the end of the tunnels, was this huge cavern filled with the bluest, bubbling, warm water I’d ever seen.”

“Like a hot spring?” Hushed conversations drifted out from the areas full of shadows, quieting as we passed by.

“Yes, and no. The water back home… There’s really no comparison.”

“Where are—?” Glancing down a path where I heard soft sounds, I swallowed hard and quickly looked away. I became even more aware of the feeling of his hand against mine, the rough calluses on his palms, and the strength in his grip. I thought about that heavy, spicy, and smoky sensation I’d felt from him earlier. “Where…where are you from?”

“A little village I’m sure you’ve never heard of,” he said, squeezing my hand. “We’d sneak off to the cavern every chance we got. The three of us. It was like our own little world, and at the time, there were a lot of things happening—things that were too adult and grown-up for us to understand then.” His voice had taken on a far-off quality as if he were in a different space and time. “We needed that escape, where we could go and not worry about what could be stressing our parents, and fretting over all the whispered conversations we didn’t quite understand. We knew enough to know they were a harbinger of something bad. It was our haven.” He stopped and looked down at me. “Much like this garden was yours.”

The veiled Maiden fountain was only a few feet from us, the sound of trickling water surrounding us. “I lost both of them,” he said, his eyes shadowed, but his gaze no less powerful. “My brother when we were younger, and then my best friend a few years after that. The place that was once filled with happiness and adventure had turned into a graveyard of memories. I couldn’t even think about going back there without them. It was like the place became haunted.”

I didn’t need to open my senses to know that the pain was festering in him, and it wasn’t exactly a good idea to use my ability twice on him, especially when it was evolving. But through our connected hands, I dwelled on the all-too-shallow well of happy thoughts and let it briefly flow through him.

I felt his hand tremble slightly, and then I spoke, hoping to distract him. “I understand. I keep looking around, thinking that the garden should look different. Assuming there’d be a visible change to represent how it now feels to me.”

Hawke cleared his throat. “But it is the same, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

“It took me a very long time to work up the nerve to go back to the cavern. I felt that way, too. Like the water surely must’ve turned muddy in my absence, dirty and cold. But it wasn’t. It was still as calm, blue, and warm as it always was.”

“Did you replace the sad memories with happy ones?” I asked.

A half-smile appeared in the sliver of moonlight cutting across his face as he shook his head. The lines of his face had relaxed. “Haven’t gotten a chance, but I plan to.”

“I hope you do,” I said, knowing that as a Royal Guard, it likely wouldn’t be possible for many years to come. The breeze tossed a strand of hair across my shoulders and chest. “I’m sorry about your brother and friend.”

“Thank you.” He looked up to the star-blanketed sky and said, “I know it’s not like what happened here, to Rylan, but I do understand how it feels.”

I lowered my gaze to where his hand still held mine. My grip was loose and yet rigid, fingers sticking out instead of gripping. I wanted to curl the digits around his. “Sometimes, I think…I think it’s a blessing that I was young when Ian and I lost our parents. My memories of them are faint, and because of that, there’s this…I don’t know, level of detachment? As wrong as this will sound, I’m lucky in a way. It makes dealing with their loss easier because it’s almost as if they’re not real. It’s not like that for Ian. He has a lot more memories than I do.”

“It’s not wrong, Princess. I think it’s just the way the mind and heart work,” he said. “You haven’t seen your brother at all since he left for the capital?”

I shook my head. “He writes as often as he can. Usually, once a month, but I haven’t seen him since the morning he left.” Pressing my lips together, I curled my fingers around his, and my stomach dipped a little. He wasn’t holding my hand any longer. We were holding hands. To a lot of people, that would be nothing. Some would probably even find it silly, but it was huge to me, and I cherished it. “I miss him.” I lifted my gaze, discovering that Hawke was looking down at me. “I’m sure you miss your brother, and I hope…I hope you see him again.”

His head tilted slightly, and his mouth opened as if he were about to say something, but then it closed. A moment passed, and he lifted his other hand, catching a strand of my hair. I sucked in a startled, sharp breath as a wave of shivers followed the glide of his knuckles across the bare skin above my chest. Those shivers didn’t stop there. They traveled down to below my breasts and lower.

Flushed, I dropped his hand and stepped back, turning away. My pulse thrumming, I clasped my fingers together. Was it normal to have such a strong response to a brush of the skin? I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t imagine that it was. I took a few steps, searching for something to say. Anything.

“I...” I cleared my throat. “My favorite place in the garden is the night-blooming roses. There’s a bench there,” I rambled on. “I used to come out almost every night to see them open. They were my favorite flower, but now I have a hard time even looking at the ones cut and placed in bouquets.”

“Do you want to go there now?” Hawke asked, no more than a foot behind me.

I thought about it, about the silky black petals and the deep violet blooms of the jacaranda trees…and the blood that had pooled on the pathway. The way it had filled the cracks in the stone reminded me of a different night. “I…I don’t think so.”

“Would you like to see my favorite place?”

I glanced over my shoulder as he came to stand by my side. “You have a favorite place?”

“Yes.” He extended his hand once more. “Want to see?”

Knowing I shouldn’t, but somehow unable to stop myself, I placed my hand in his. Hawke was quiet as he led me around the fountain and down the main path. It wasn’t until he veered off to the left where the mild, sweet scent of lavender filled the air, that I knew where he was leading me.

The willow.

At the very edge of the southern side of the Queen’s Garden was a large, several-hundred-year-old weeping willow. Its branches nearly reached the ground, creating a thick canopy. In the warmer months, tiny, white blossoms clung to the leaves.

“You’re a fan of the weeping willow?” I asked as it came into view. Several lanterns hung from poles outside the willow, the flames still inside the glass enclosures.