Hawke was quiet, and when I glanced over at him, I saw that he was closer, leaning against the settee. “How did you end up on the ledge?”
“Well, that’s kind of a funny story…”
“I imagine it is. So, please, spare no details.” He crossed his arms.
I sighed. “I came to find something to read, and I stopped inside this room. I…I didn’t want to go back to mine yet, and I didn’t realize that anything about this room was special.” I eyed the liquor cabinet. That alone should have been a warning. “I was in here, and I heard the Duke outside in the hall. So, hiding on a ledge was a far better option than having him catch me here.”
“And what would’ve happened if he had?”
I shrugged once more. “He didn’t, and that’s all that matters.” I quickly moved on. “He had a meeting here with a guard from the prison. At least, I think that’s who it was. They were talking about the Descenter who threw the Craven hand. The guard got the man to talk. He said that the Descenter didn’t believe that the Dark One was in the city.”
“That’s good news.”
Something about his tone snagged my attention. I glanced at him. “You don’t believe him?”
“I don’t think the Dark One has survived as long as he has by letting his whereabouts be widely known, even by his most fervent supporters,” he responded.
Unfortunately, he had a point. “I think…I think the Duke is going to kill the Descenter himself.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Does that bother you?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do, and you just don’t want to say it.”
It was so freaking irritating how correct he was…and how often. “I just don’t like the idea of someone dying in a dungeon.”
“Dying by public execution is better?”
I stared at him. “Not exactly, but at least then it’s being done in a way that feels…”
“Feels like what?”
I inhaled heavily. “At least then it doesn’t feel like it’s something being hidden.”
Hawke stared back at me, almost curiously. “Interesting.”
The corners of my lips turned down. “What is?”
“You.”
“Me?”
He nodded and then moved, his hand striking out. Before I even knew what he was doing, he had a hold of the book.
“Don’t!” Unprepared, my fingers slipped over the leather binding, and then it was free from my hand. He had it! Oh, my gods, he had the journal, and that was worse than falling to my death. If he saw what it was about—
“The Diary of Miss Willa Colyns?” His brows knitted as he turned it over. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“Give it back.” I reached for it, but Hawke danced away. “Give it back to me now!”
“I will if you read it for me. I’m sure this has to be more interesting than the history of the kingdom.” He opened the book.
Maybe he couldn’t read.
Please, let it be that he could not read.
The grin slowly slipped from his face.
Of course, he could read. Why was life so unfair?
His dark brows rose as he flipped through the pages. I knew what was on the first page. Miss Willa Colyns had been painfully detailed about the intimate kiss. “What interesting reading material.”
My face was burning with the fire of a thousand suns, and I wondered how mad Hawke would get if I threw my dagger at his face.
Again.
The grin returned, and so did the dimple. “Penellaphe.” He said my name with so much shock, my eyes would’ve rolled if I weren’t so incredibly mortified. “This is…just scandalous reading material for the Maiden.”
“Shut up.”
“Very naughty,” he chided, shaking his head.
Annoyance hitting a record high, I lifted my chin. “There’s nothing wrong with me reading about love.”
“I didn’t say there was.” Hawke looked at me. “But I don’t think what she is writing about has anything to do with love.”
“Oh, so you’re an expert on this now?”
“More so than you, I imagine.”
I snapped my mouth shut. The truth in that statement stung, and I lashed out. “That’s right. Your visits to the Red Pearl have been the talk of many servants and Ladies in Wait, so I suppose you do have a ton of experience.”
“Someone sounds jealous.”
“Jealous?” I laughed as I rolled my eyes. “As I said before, you have an overinflated sense of importance in my life.”