Chapter 3

The Landsmeet had been even more disastrous than Anora had feared. The banns had reacted with predictable outrage and disbelief to the accusations of treason against Bryce Cousland and his family; still more to Howe's investiture as Teyrn of Highever. But all this paled in comparison to the furore over Ostagar and the loss of Cailan's army.

Honestly, there were times when she could happily have murdered her father. At precisely the time when he should have been doing his best to reassure people – soothing ruffled tempers, explaining his decisions, addressing their concerns as best he could – he'd instead resorted to brusque demands and even threats. Anyone, she thought furiously, could have told him that this was the wrong approach. The notoriously prickly Bannorn did not take kindly to being ordered around, especially by the man who'd just lost them their King and an entire army.

But it was Teagan Guerrin, Arl Eamon's brother, who had thrown everything into chaos. Anora had watched in disbelief as he stood before the Landsmeet in full armour, almost as if he were expecting a fight, and all but accused her father of treason. Not in so many words, of course, but she had little doubt that everyone in the room had understood his meaning.

What was worse, she hadn't even known how to respond. She couldn't defend her father's conduct at Ostagar, for she hadn't been there – and Loghain had certainly not helped matters by losing his temper and storming out, leaving her to address a roomful of angry and resentful nobles.

"Bann Teagan, my father is doing what is best!" Even to her own ears, her words sounded lame and inadequate. She'd felt utterly foolish and, worse, insignificant – knowing she must look like a puppet ruler, under the thumb of her father. And Bann Teagan's response had struck rather too close to home: "Did he also do what was best for your husband, your Majesty?"

In truth, she still didn't fully understand what had happened at Ostagar. Loghain might blame the Wardens for Cailan's death, but Anora was skeptical; for the life of her, she couldn't see how getting themselves killed along with their King was supposed to work to their benefit. She fully believed him when he told her the battle could not have been won; the alternative was unthinkable. But if so, why could he not explain in simple terms why he'd been forced to retreat?

It was these thoughts that occupied her mind as she headed for Loghain's chambers, hoping she could convince him to see reason. With luck, and patience, perhaps she could salvage the situation before his intransigence led to all-out civil war. Her hopes began to fade, however, the instant she encountered Rendon Howe coming in the other direction.

Her father was holding private meetings with Howe – meetings which excluded her – far too often for her liking, both at the Palace and at Howe's own estate. She strongly disliked the man, and was deeply suspicious of his influence over her father. It was all she could do to conceal her disgust of him as he greeted her with his usual oily smile.

"My lady," he drawled, with a faintly condescending air that made her itch to smack his face. "I trust you are well?"

She met his eyes coolly, wondering what he'd been discussing with her father. "Quite well, thank you, Arl Howe."

"Teyrn Howe, your Majesty," he said, with just a hint of reproach. "Your father agreed to grant me the title, if you recall."

"Ah, yes. I must have forgotten." She was rewarded by seeing him colour up slightly and clench his teeth. "If you'll excuse me, my lord teyrn, I must speak with my father. I trust your business with him has been settled?"

"Yes, your Majesty. When I left him, he was draining a chalice as if the Golden City itself lay at the bottom." Before she could respond, he gave her a perfunctory bow and stalked off in the direction of the stairwell.

She cast a scornful glance at his retreating back and turned away, only to see yet another man emerge from her father's chambers. This one was an elf, handsome in a slightly effeminate way, with tanned skin and carefully-styled blond hair. He wore a great deal of leather, and very little else. She couldn't imagine who he was, or what kind of business he could possibly have with her father.

As she gazed at him in astonishment, the elf's eyes lit up, and he swept an elaborate bow. "Your Majesty." He spoke with a heavy Antivan accent. "I have heard many tales of your beauty, but now I see that they did not do you justice."

Anora shot him a glance that would have reduced most of her courtiers to quivering blancmange, but on this elf it had no effect at all. He straightened up, grinning at her, and sauntered off in the same direction as Howe. Shaking her head, she went on her way to her father's room.

As she entered the room, Loghain drained the last dregs from a cup of wine and immediately set it down to pour himself another. She'd never known her father turn to drink before now, and she very much hoped he didn't plan to make a habit of it. Having filled the cup to the brim, he settled back into his chair, and only then did he notice his daughter.

"Anora." His voice was hoarse, and moving closer, she could see that the bruises under his eyes were more pronounced than ever. She'd fully intended to take him to task about the Landsmeet, but the sight of his weary face cost her a sudden pang of regret. Perhaps this particular confrontation could wait a little longer.

"Father." She bent over his chair, planting a dutiful kiss on his forehead. He reached up silently to grasp her hand, and for a few moments, it felt just like the old days.

Anora was the one to break the silence. "Father, who was that extraordinary elf? I've never seen him here before."

Loghain closed his eyes briefly. "An Antivan mercenary. Howe hired him to take care of… a problem."

"What sort of – " She broke off, suddenly grasping his meaning. "A Crow? Oh, Father."

He grimaced. "Howe brought me news of Grey Wardens who escaped Ostagar. I don't like it any more than you do, but they have to be dealt with."

"Grey Wardens?" she repeated, incredulous. "Don't you think we have slightly more important things to worry about, with darkspawn ravaging the south and the country on the brink of civil war? What harm can a handful of Wardens possibly do to us?"

"More than you think, Anora. They are dangerous, believe me." Loghain took a long draught from his chalice. "As for civil war, it won't come to that. Teagan Guerrin is not the man to lead a rebellion, for all his bravado."

"But if Arl Eamon should recover from his sickness – "

"Unlikely."

There was a grim finality to Loghain's tone that spoke far louder than words. A terrible suspicion began to dawn on Anora, and she drew back, pulling her hand away from his.

"Father…" She hesitated, trying to choose the right words. "Eamon's illness – "

Loghain held up a hand, cutting her off without saying a word, and she could see the love in his eyes as his gaze rested on her. He was trying to play at politics, she realised, only he'd got it wrong, he didn't understand –

She forced herself to break off that thought, unwilling to follow it to the ugly conclusion. "You and Howe must have spent a great deal of money on this assassin. Why didn't you consult me first?"

He grimaced. "I didn't want to trouble you with these things, Anora."

Anora stiffened, profoundly irritated. Did he still see her as an innocent young girl, to be shielded from the realities of war and politics? She was tempted to point out that she'd governed the country herself for five years, and with far more skill than he was currently displaying – but for once she managed to keep a grip on her temper.

"Father, might I remind you that I am still Queen? It's no 'trouble' to be consulted about the governance of my realm." She straightened up, drawing herself to her full height. "Next time Howe brings you important news, I want to be informed at once – before you start making decisions on my behalf. Will you promise me that?"

Hard grey eyes met piercing blue ones, both wary, neither willing to yield. "I promise," he said quietly. But he was a poor liar, and she didn't believe him.