He nodded. “Never saw one until I got here.”
I wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t seen one in the capital. The trees, with their shallow roots, were known to break through the ground, but I wondered what village he’d lived in that had farming and caverns but no weeping willows. “Ian and I used to play inside. No one could see us.”
“Play? Or do you mean hide?” he asked. “Because that’s what I would’ve done.”
I cracked a grin. “Well, yes. I would hide, and Ian would tag along like any good big brother.” I looked up at him. “Have you gone under it? There’re benches, but you can’t see them now.” I frowned. “Actually, anyone could be under there right now, and we wouldn’t know.”
“No one is under there.”
My brows lifted above the mask. “How can you be sure?”
“I just am. Come on.” He tugged on my hand as he strode forward. “Watch your step.”
I wondered if his certainty had to do with his excellent tracking skills. I easily navigated the low, stone wall, trailing behind him as we passed one of the lanterns. Hawke reached out with his free hand, brushing aside several of the leafy branches. I stepped inside and, within a handful of seconds, we were pitched into almost complete darkness as the branches drifted back into place. The moonlight couldn’t break through the heavy fall, and only the faintest glow from the nearby lanterns seeped into the willow.
I looked around, seeing only the outline of the trunk. “Gods, I forgot how dark it is in here at night.”
“It feels like you’re in a different world under here,” he commented. “As if we’ve stepped through a veil and into an enchanted world.”
I grinned, his words reminding me of Ian. “You should see it when it’s warmer. The leaves bloom—oh! Or when it snows, and at dusk. The flakes dust the leaves and the ground, but not a lot makes it inside here. Then it really is like a different world.”
“Maybe we’ll see it.”
“You think so?”
“Why not?” he asked, and I sensed his body angle toward mine. When he spoke next, I felt his breath against my forehead. “It will snow, will it not? We’ll sneak off just before dusk and come out here.”
Fully aware of how close he was standing now, I nervously dampened my 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.
“Possibly. 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 anywhere in the capital, not with me…not with me being so close to the Ascension.”
“You need to have more faith in me if you think I can’t manage to find a way for us to sneak off. I can assure you that whatever I get us involved in won’t end with you on a ledge.” In the darkness, I thought I felt his fingertips caress my 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 only because I was leading the way.”
I laughed again. “Sure.”
“Your doubt wounds me.” His hand pulled on mine as he turned away. “You said there were benches in here? Wait. I see them.”
I stared at the shadowy form of what I assumed was the back of his head. “How in the world do you see those benches?”
“You can’t?”
“Uh, no.” I squinted into the gloom.
“Then I must have better eyesight than you.”
I rolled my eyes. “I think you’re just saying you can see them, and we’re probably a second away from tripping—”
“Here they are.” Hawke stopped. Unbelievably, he sat down as if he could perfectly see the seats.
I was left staring, my mouth hanging open. Then I realized that it was quite possible he could see me gaping like a dying fish, so I closed my mouth. Maybe his eyesight was better than mine.
Or my eyesight was poorer than I realized.
“Would you like to sit?” he asked.
“I would, but unlike you, I can’t see in the dark—” I gasped as he tugged on my 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.