From Blood and Ash (Blood And Ash #1) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,19

small, round powdery pastry and popped it into her mouth. Somehow, she didn’t get a single dusting of sugar on her. Meanwhile, if I so much as breathed in the direction of those pastries, I ended up with a fine coating of white powder in places that made no sense. “So, when do we go back?”

“I…I don’t think I should.”

“You don’t want to?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it and tried not to fall down that rabbit hole. The problem was that I wanted to go back.

When I was lying in bed and hadn’t been obsessively rewinding the time spent with Hawke, reliving the razor-edged yearning and thrill his kiss had dragged out of me, I’d wondered if he had come back like he promised, and if I had done the right thing by leaving.

Of course, in the eyes of my guardians and the gods, it had been the right thing, but had it been so for me? Should I have stayed and experienced infinitely more before there might not be any more chances?

My gaze lifted to the windows that faced the west portion of the Rise. The dark shapes of the guards patrolling the ledge were the only movement. Was Hawke out there? Why was I even wondering that?

Because there was more than just a small part of me that wished I’d stayed, and I knew it would be a long time before I stopped wondering about what would’ve happened if I’d waited. Would he have carried out whatever I’d wanted?

I didn’t even know what that would’ve entailed. I had ideas. I had my imagination. I had other people’s stories of their experiences, but they were not mine. They were just thin, transparent copies of the real thing.

And I knew if I returned, I would go back in hopes that he’d be there. That was why I shouldn’t go back.

Looking at the open wardrobe, I saw first the white veil with its delicate gold chains, and a heaviness settled over me. I could already feel its substantial weight, even though the material was made out of the finest, lightest silk. When it was first slipped over my head at age eight, I’d panicked, but after ten years, I should’ve grown used to it by now.

While I no longer felt like I couldn’t breathe or see while wearing it, it still felt heavy.

Hanging beside it was the only color in my wardrobe, a splash of red among a sea of white. It was a ceremonial gown tailored for the upcoming Rite. The dress had arrived the morning before, and I hadn’t tried it on yet. It would be the first time I was allowed to attend—allowed to wear anything other than white and be seen without the veil. Of course, I would be masked, like everyone else.

The only reason I was allowed to attend this Rite when all the others had been forbidden, was because it would be the last Rite before my Ascension.

Whatever excitement I felt about the Rite was tempered by the fact that it would be the last.

Tawny rose and drifted to one of the windows. “The mist hasn’t come in a while.”

Tawny had a habit of jumping from topic to topic, but this switch was jarring. “What made you think of that?”

“I don’t know.” She tucked back a loose curl. “Actually, I do. I overheard Dafina and Loren talking last night,” she said. “They claimed they heard from one of the Huntsmen that the mist has been gathering beyond the Blood Forest.”

“I hadn’t heard that.” My stomach knotted as I remembered Finley, and I wished I hadn’t eaten so many slices of bacon.

“I probably shouldn’t have brought it up.” She turned from the window. “It’s just that…it has been decades since the mist even neared the capital. It’s not something we’d have to worry about there.”

No matter where we were, the mist was something to worry about. Just because it hadn’t gotten close in decades didn’t mean it wouldn’t, but I didn’t say that.

She pushed away from the window, coming back to the table to kneel next to where I sat. “Can I be honest with you for a moment?”

My brows rose. “Aren’t you always?”

“Well, yes, but this…is different.”

More than curious to know what she was thinking about, I nodded for her to go on.

Tawny drew in a deep breath. “I know our lives are different, as were our pasts, and as our futures will be, but you treat the Ascension as if it may very