“And what have you heard he does at such a place?” Tawny nudged me with her foot under the table. “I imagine he’s there to play cards, right? Or do you…？” Pressing a hand to her chest, she slumped in her chair and sighed. A curl slipped free from the elaborate twist that was trying—and failing—to contain her hair. “Or do you think he engages in other, more illicit…games?”
Tawny knew exactly what Hawke did at the Red Pearl.
I wanted to kick her…like a Maiden, of course.
“I’m sure playing cards is all he does.” Loren arched a brow as she pressed her yellow and red fan against the deep blue of her dress. The contrast of the fan and gown was…atrocious and also interesting. My gaze dipped to her mask. Crystals of every color were already sewn into the material. I was sure it would look like a rainbow had vomited all over her face once she finished. “If that is all he does, then that would be a…disappointment.”
“I imagine he does what everyone does when they go there,” Tawny said, humor dripping like syrup from her words. “Finds someone to spend…quality time with.” Her mischievous gaze slid to mine.
I was going to replace the sugars Tawny loved to dump into her coffee with coarse salt.
She knew I wouldn’t chime in, that I couldn’t. I wasn’t allowed to speak to the Ladies, and I still hadn’t spoken to Hawke or around him. And other than Hawke asking if I wished to do anything after supper last night, to which I had shaken my head no, he hadn’t spoken to me either.
Like before, I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed.
“You shouldn’t suggest such things in current company,” Dafina suggested.
Tawny choked on her tea, and behind the veil, my eyes rolled.
“I imagine if Miss Willa were alive today, she would’ve snared him in her web,” Loren said, and my interest was piqued. Was she talking about the Willa Colyns? “And then wrote about him in her diary.”
She was.
Miss Willa Colyns was a woman who’d lived in Masadonia some two hundred years ago. She’d apparently had a very…active love life. Miss Colyns had detailed her rather scandalous affairs quite explicitly in her journal, and it had been filed away in the city Atheneum as some sort of historical account. I made a mental note to ask Tawny to retrieve that journal for me.
“I heard that she only wrote about her most skilled…partners,” Dafina whispered with a giggle. “So, if he made it onto those pages, you know what that means.”
I did know what that meant.
Because of him.
My gaze drifted to where Hawke stood. The black breeches and tunic molded to his body like a second skin, and I couldn’t blame Dafina or Loren for how their gazes seemed to find their way back to him every couple of minutes. He was tall, with lean muscle, and the sheathed sword at his waist, along with the one at his side, said he was prepared for more than just fainting ladies. The white mantle of the Royal Guard was a new addition, draped over the back of his shoulders.
But he also filled the air with a certain type of unquantifiable tension, as if the room were electrified. Anyone around him had to be aware of that.
My gaze drifted over his chest, and the memory of how hard it had felt, even without the armor, sent heat creeping into my cheeks. A newly familiar heaviness settled in my chest, making the silk of my dress feel coarse against my suddenly sensitive and flushed skin.
Maybe one of those stupid fans would be useful.
Swallowing a groan, I wanted to smack myself in the face. But since that wasn’t exactly an option, I took a sip of my tea, trying to ease the inexplicable dryness in my throat, and focused on Dafina and Loren once more. They were talking about the Rite, their excitement a heady hum. The celebration was just a week away, on the night of the Harvest Moon.
Their excitement was infectious. With it being my first Rite, I would be there, masked and not in white. Most would have no idea that I was the Maiden. Well, the two guards who were sure to be with me at all times would probably give me away to those paying attention. Still, a thrill of anticipation-laced uncertainty curled its way through me as my gaze slowly ticked its way back to Hawke.
My stomach tumbled.
If he saw me in the mask, would he know I was the one who’d been in the room with him? Would that even matter? By the time of the Rite, he would have to know I was one and the same, wouldn’t he? If he hadn’t realized it already.
He stood with feet shoulder-width apart, his gaze on our little group. The sunlight almost seemed drawn to him, caressing his cheekbones and brow like a lover. His profile was flawless, the line of his jaw as chiseled as the statues that adorned the garden and the castle foyer.