From Blood and Ash (Blood And Ash #1) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,49

represented. “That is who you stand beside.”

“I know who I stand beside,” Hawke answered.

A hysterical giggle climbed its way up my throat. He honestly had no idea who he stood next to. By the grace of the gods, I was able to stop that laugh.

“She is safe with me,” Hawke added.

I was.

And I wasn’t.

Vikter looked at me, and all I could do was nod. I couldn’t speak. If I did, Hawke might recognize my voice, and then…gods, I couldn’t even begin to fathom what would occur.

With one last look of warning in Hawke’s direction, Vikter pivoted on his heel and stalked toward the guard who held the torch. My heart hadn’t slowed as I dared one quick peek in Hawke’s direction.

I immediately wished I hadn’t.

In the bright, early morning sun, with blue-black hair swept back from his face, his features were harder, harsher, and somehow all the more beautiful. The line of his lips was firm. No hint of a dimple to be seen. He had on the same black uniform he had worn the night at the Red Pearl, except now he also wore the leather and iron armor of the Rise, his broadsword at his side, the bloodstone blade a deep ruby.

Why had he stepped forward to watch over me? There were Royal Guards present. Dozens of them who should’ve done so. My gaze swept the crowd, and I realized that none of them looked long in my direction, and I wondered if it was because it was so rare that they ever saw me, or if they feared punishment by the Duke or the gods for even looking at me.

Their duty dictated that they give their life for someone who it would be considered a grave disrespect to look upon too long or approach without permission. The disturbing irony in that sat heavily on my shoulders.

But Hawke was different.

There was no way that he knew it had been me at the Red Pearl. He’d never heard me speak before, and I doubted my jaw and mouth were that recognizable.

The Duchess had said he came from the capital with glowing recommendations and would likely become one of the youngest Royal Guards. If that was what Hawke wanted, stepping up like this would surely help. After all, there was a sudden, unexpected opening in the Royal Guard now.

And wasn’t that a dark assumption to make?

A muscle flexed along his jaw, momentarily fascinating. Then I remembered why I was here, and that was not to ogle Hawke from behind my veil. I shifted my gaze to where Vikter approached the pyre.

Drawing in a shallow breath, I wanted to look away, to close my eyes when he lowered the torch. I didn’t. I watched as the flames licked along the tinder and the sound of crackling wood filled the quiet. My insides twisted as the fire ignited in a rush, spreading over Rylan’s body as Vikter dropped to one knee before the pyre, bowing his head.

“You do him a great honor by being here,” Hawke spoke quietly, but his words startled me. My head swung in his direction. He was staring down at me with eyes so bright, they looked like the gods had polished the amber themselves and placed them there. “You do us all a great honor by being here.”

I opened my mouth to tell him that Rylan and all of them were owed far more than the honor of my presence, but I stopped myself. I couldn’t risk it.

Hawke’s gaze flicked over my lower jaw, lingering on the corner of my mouth, where I knew the skin was inflamed. “You were hurt.” It wasn’t a question but a statement uttered in a hard-as-granite tone. “You can be assured that will never happen again.”

Chapter 9

Sweat dampened my skin as I dipped down and spun, the long, thick braid of hair whipping around me. I kicked out, and my bare foot connected with the side of Vikter’s shin. Caught off guard, he staggered to the side as I shot up beside him. He started to strike back but froze. His gaze dropped to where I held the dagger to his throat.

The corners of his lips turned down.

I smiled. “I win.”

“It’s not about winning, Poppy.”

“It’s not?” I lowered the dagger, stepping back.

“It’s about surviving.”

“Isn’t that winning, though?”

He shot me a sidelong glance as he dragged his arm over his forehead. “I suppose you can look at it that way, but it’s never a game.”

“I know that.” I sheathed the dagger at