A girl he didn’t remember.
Hawthorne’s chest tightened at the thought of her.
“We could go to the ball together.”
Hawthorne had no desire to go to the Frost King’s ball. And the look in Aspen’s eyes made him wonder if perhaps she had the wrong idea about the time they’d been spending together.
Guilt pricked him. He was using Aspen as a crutch, and he knew it. But being around her—an old friend, he’d been told—didn’t confuse Hawthorne. Nor did it fill him with self-loathing.
Being around Aspen was easy. Unlike—
A horse whinnied.
Lament.
Hawthorne glanced at the window. Had she escaped her stall again?
The ember mare whinnied again, just as it started to rain. The drops clinked against the roof.
Hawthorne rose from the table. “I’m sorry, Aspen. I’ll be right back …”
Striding for the door, he quickly pulled on his boots. The last time Lament got out—two evenings ago—she’d gone to the last place Hawthorne wanted to fetch her from. If he could prevent that tonight …
He pulled open the door and froze.
Shestood in his yard, looking guilty and drenched. Her dark hair clung to her neck and shoulders, and a basket was slung over her arm. She seemed to be coaxing Lament back to the stable—or at least trying to.
Was that why his horse escaped her stall—because she’d heard the Song Mage in his yard?
The sight of Emeline made Hawthorne’s heart thunder in his chest.
What is she doing here?
Looking at her always brought a war of feelings. Awe. Confusion. Longing. Self-hatred.
He swallowed.
“Hawthorne? Is someone here?”
The door creaked behind him. He glanced back to find Aspen stepping up beside him, pushing it open farther.
“Oh. Hello, Emeline.”
Emeline seemed to wilt beneath Aspen’s greeting.
“I’m so sorry,” said the Song Mage, getting more sodden by the second. “If I’d known you had company, I wouldn’t have—”
“Don’t be silly,” said Hawthorne, realizing how this looked—him and Aspen, alone in his house. “Come inside and warm up.”
She shook her head. “It’s all right. I should get back.”
It was a half-hour walk back to her row house—he knew this, because when he’d first returned to himself, he’d walked it daily. Desperate to see her. Hungry for stories of the past. Wanting to know so much more about this girl he was inexplicably drawn to.
That was before Rooke told him what he’d done to her.
“Emeline, be reasonable.” That long walk in the rain would be miserable.
Hawthorne stepped out into the yard.
