He shrugged, smiling at her. “We can find out.”
The Frost King called for his horse, which came trotting out of the trees. It was a beautiful thing, white as snow and nearly the same height as Lament. Hawthorne watched the king help Emeline up into the saddle. Watched his pale hand linger far too long on the small of her back before he mounted up behind her.
When his arm encircled her waist, pulling her snug against him, something burned in Hawthorne, scorching his insides.
He emerged from his hiding place, suddenly wanting to make his presence known. But it was too late. They were already galloping away.
“Awk!”
Hawthorne tore his gaze from the white horse and fixed it on the raven overhead.
The sight of his friend didn’t cheer him.
“You seem surprised,” said Rooke, materializing beside him.
“How long has this been going on?” Hawthorne asked, his attention still fixed on Emeline and the visiting monarch.
“The Wood King introduced Emeline and the Frost King when he first arrived,” Rooke explained. “They’ve been inseparable ever since. You might have noticed if you weren’t so busyhiding.”
Hawthorne scowled at his friend. “I’m not hiding.”
“Running, then.”
He ignored this, recalling Aspen’s suspicions about the Frost King at dinner last night.
“Why is he here?” And why such an interest in Emeline?
Rooke lifted a shoulder, then dropped it. “He says he wants peace.”
“Does he really?”
What if Aspen was right, and his motives were less than noble? What if his aim here was to steal the Song Mage and weaken the Wood King’s court?
“Emeline would be the better person to ask.” Rooke’s mouth quirked. “But that would require working up the courage to talk to her.”
Hawthorne let this barb slide, not wanting to discuss the matter.
Perhaps there’s a way to sing to the wood while you’re in my court, the king had said. As if he was taking her home with him.
“They leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”Hawthorne swung to face his friend.
Was this why Emeline came to his house last night? To break the news to him?
He growled, not liking any of this.
“Can I be honest with you, Hawthorne?”
“Do I have a choice in the matter?”
“Keeping your distance from her is how you fucked things up the first time. So maybe do the opposite of that.”
Before he could respond, Rooke shifted back into his glossy raven form and darted into the trees.
Scowling after his friend, Hawthorne thought of the white envelope still sitting on his windowsill. An unopened invitation to the king’s ball tonight. One he hadn’t RSVP’d to.
He didn’t want to go. Precisely because Emeline would be there.
