Thanks so much for coming along for this ride! I appreciate all your enthusiasm. Thanks as always to my excellent betas, my husband and WellspringCD, who are the greatest confidence-boosters a writer could ask for.

The slave walked behind his master, concentrating on remaining the precise three steps behind and two to the side that Danarius demanded. His eyes remained fixed on his master's shoulder, alert to the smallest change in Danarius's walk or posture that would indicate an alteration in mood. So he didn't notice the small white-haired elven woman standing in the midst of the crowd and staring at him until he was practically on top of her.

Her hand flew to her mouth in a gasp, her green eyes startled and possibly sad. The slave stole a moment to look her over, wondering if she had known him once, before he became … what he now was. He thought it unlikely. No doubt Danarius had procured him from some seedy orphanage, a place from which no one would miss him. But this woman's eyes were filling with tears. Tears for him? Was it possible? Something in him was touched, something that had turned to stone inside him shifting, leaving a softness he found disquieting.

Ducking his head to avoid the woman's gaze, he started to turn; he must catch up with his master. It was rare enough to be in public without the usual Qunari-style harness and collar—he had no wish to jeopardize the privilege, or court punishment, by seeming inattentive.

"Wait …" the woman said.

"Leave him be, Mother. He deserves no less," hissed another elf, this one younger and red-haired, but with the same green eyes. She put her hands on the first woman's shoulders with a gentleness that belied her tone. Her eyes challenged his for a moment before she hustled the white-haired woman away. He stood, watching curiously as they faded into the crowd. No spark of familiarity had surfaced, no suggestion within him that he shared a history with these women. He could not. If he did—if he allowed himself the luxury of an imagined past—his present would be untenable.

As he stared after them, Danarius's voice came, sharp and displeased. "The boat to Seheron will not wait for your leisure. Come along, Fenris."