From Blood & Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,111

how aware of the network he was. I inched along the ledge toward the window. Clutching the journal to my chest with numb fingers, I neared the window—

There was a clicking sound from inside the room. I froze. Was that the door closing? Or was it locking? Oh, my gods, if it had been locked, I would have to bust through it—wait, the door could only be locked from the inside. Had someone else come into the room? Was it the Duke? There was no way he knew that I was out here unless he could suddenly see through walls. Who else—?

“You still out there, Princess?”

My lips parted as my eyes widened at the sound of his voice. Hawke. It was Hawke. In that room. I couldn’t believe it.

“Or have you fallen to your death?” he continued. I briefly debated the merits of jumping. “I really hope that’s not the case since I’m pretty positive that would reflect poorly on me since I assumed you were in your room.” A pause. “Behaving. And not on a ledge, several dozen feet in the air, for reasons I can’t even begin to fathom but am dying to learn.”

“Dammit,” I whispered, looking around as if I could find another escape route. Which was stupid. Unless I suddenly sprouted wings, the only exit point was through the window.

A heartbeat later, Hawke stuck his head out and looked up at me. The soft glow of the lamp glanced off his cheekbone as he raised a brow.

“Hi?” I squeaked.

He stared at me a moment. “Get inside.”

I didn’t move.

With a sigh so heavy it should’ve rattled the walls, he extended his hand toward me. “Now.”

“You could say please,” I muttered.

His eyes narrowed. “There are a whole lot of things I could say to you that you should be grateful I’m keeping to myself.”

“Whatever,” I grumbled. “Move back.”

He waited, but when I didn’t take his hand, he disappeared back into the room, grousing under his breath. “If you fall, you’re going to be in so much trouble.”

“If I fall, I’ll be dead, so I’m not quite sure how I’d also be in trouble.”

“Poppy,” he snapped, and I couldn’t help it. I grinned.

Had that been the first time he’d called me that? I thought so as I carefully inched across the ledge. Gripping the upper windowsill, I ducked down. Hawke was standing by the settee, but the moment he spotted me, he moved incredibly fast. Startled, I jerked back, but I didn’t fall. He had an arm around my waist. A second later, I was inside the room, my feet on solid ground, and the journal stuck between his chest and mine. There was still a lot of full-body contact. My stomach and legs were pressed against his, and when I drew in a breath, I could practically taste his dark spice and pine scent on my tongue. Before I could say a word, he reached up and fisted the back of my hood.

“Don’t—” I started.

Too late.

He yanked it down. “A mask. This brings back old memories.” His gaze roamed, flickering over the strands of hair that had escaped my braid and now fell against my cheeks.

I flushed as I tried to pull away. He didn’t let go. “I understand you’re probably upset—”

“Probably?” He laughed.

“All right. You’re definitely upset,” I amended. “But I can explain.”

“I sure hope so, because I have so many questions,” he said, golden eyes glimmering as he stared into mine. “Starting with, how did you get out of your room, and ending with why in the gods were you on the ledge?”

The last thing I wanted to tell him about was the old servants’ entrance. I tried to put space between us. “You can let me go.”

“I can, but I don’t know if I should. You might do something even more reckless than climbing out onto a ledge that can’t be more than a foot wide.”

My eyes narrowed. “I didn’t fall.”

“As if that somehow makes this whole situation better?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just pointing out that I had the situation completely under control.”

Hawke blinked, and then he laughed—he guffawed deeply, and the sound rumbled through me, eliciting a sharp wave of hot, tight shivers. Thankfully, he seemed unaware of the reaction. “You had the situation under control? I’d hate to see what happens when you don’t.”

I said nothing to that because I doubted whatever I would or could say would do me any favors. And neither did our proximity. Like on the Rise, the