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“Not all guards are good men, Princess.”
My eyes narrowed. “I know that. Bravery and strength do not equal goodness.”
“We can agree on that.” His gaze dropped to my mouth, and my chest felt inexplicably tight.
“You said your father was a farmer. Is he…has he gone to the gods?”
Something crept across his face, gone too quickly for me to decipher. “No. He is alive and well. Yours?”
I gave a small shake of my head. “My father—both of my parents are gone.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, and it sounded genuine. “The loss of a parent or a family member lingers long after they’re gone, the pain lessening but never fading. Years later, you’ll still find yourself thinking that you’d do anything to get them back.”
He was right, and I thought that this was perhaps the source of the pain he felt. “You sound like you know firsthand.”
“I do.”
I thought of Finley. Had Hawke known him well? Most of the guards were close, developing a bond thicker than blood, but even if he hadn’t known Finley, there were surely others he knew that had been lost. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry for whoever it is that you’ve lost. Death is…”
Death was constant.
And I saw a lot of it. I wasn’t supposed to, as sheltered as I was, but I saw death all too frequently.
His head tilted, sending a tumble of dark locks over his forehead. “Death is like an old friend who pays a visit, sometimes when it’s least expected and other times when you’re waiting for her. It’s neither the first nor the last time she’ll pay a visit, but that doesn’t make any death less harsh or unforgiving.”
Sadness threatened to take up residence in my chest, crowding out the warmth. “That it is.”
He dipped his head suddenly, his lips nearing mine. “I doubt the need for conversation led you to this room. You didn’t come here to talk about sad things that ca
I knew why I came here tonight, and Hawke was right, yet again. It wasn’t to talk. I came here to live. To experience. To choose. To be anyone other than who I was. None of those things included talking.
But I’d had my first kiss tonight. I could stop there or tonight could be a night of many firsts, all of my choosing.
Was I…? Was I really considering this, whatever this was? Gods, I truly was. Tiny tremors rocked me. Could he feel them? They piled in my stomach, forming little knots of anticipation and fear.
I was the Maiden. The Chosen. My earlier convictions about what the gods concerned themselves with weakened. Would they find me unworthy? Panic didn’t seize me like it should. Instead, a spark of hope did, and that unsettled me more than anything. The tiny glimmer of hope felt traitorous and wholly concerning, given that being deemed unworthy resulted in one of the most serious consequences.
If I were to be found unworthy, I’d face certain death.
I’d be exiled from the kingdom.