Thanks to spectre4hire, anime/videogame freak, none, JadeOokami, mike, Gemini1179, Shinkansen-and anyone else who reviews, since I'm posting the follow-up so soon.
Corin went upstairs immediately upon his return, to find Wynne sitting in an armchair by the fire knitting. Pooka was laying asleep upon a blanket close to the hearth.
"Is he going to be all right?" he asked the Circle mage. The mabari, hearing his master's voice, cracked an eye open and wagged his tiny tail feebly.
"He won't be tearing throats out for the next little bit, but he should recover," she assured him. "It was a near thing and he lost a lot of blood. Give him a few days of quiet-don't take him to the Landsmeet. And we should get him some liver to eat. Morrigan did a good job of healing him. The only thing I did really was to check him over and clean him up." Pooka was blood-free and looking quite pristine, Corin noted, though still a little damp.
"He really does hate it when you get the soap out, Wynne."
"I consider it a public service." The old enchantress smiled an evil smile. "And it's not often that he can't get away from me. When he put up a fuss, I knew he was going to be all right." She looked Corin up and down. "You could use some soap yourself."
"I'm going to work on that in a few minutes. Thank you, Wynne." She rolled her knitting up into a bag she kept for that purpose and got to her feet.
"You're very welcome, Corin. I think I'll go down and see if they kept anything warm from dinner. Are you going to do the same, or would you like me to have them send a plate up?"
"I'll eat up here. Would you mind telling them?"
"Not at all."
She departed and he set to taking his gore-caked armor off, laying it on a section of bare stone floor in the corner in preparation for cleaning. He'd gotten enough dirty looks from the maids that he didn't want to be the cause of any more carpet cleaning. There was one maid in particular he'd noticed, who seemed to spend her whole day going over the carpets thread by thread, examining them intently for any stains or the least bit of debris.
"How's Pook?" Alistair asked, strolling into the room. He also rated a tail wag from the mabari.
"Wynne says he's going to be all right, though he's out for the Landsmeet." Corin looked at his Warden brother and grinned ruefully. "Sorry about the interruption."
"Maker, that doesn't matter! We had time enough to have some fun. I'm just glad the three of you are all right."
"Even Morrigan?" Corin asked.
"Even Morrigan. Can't stand her myself, but I know she's important to you. Speaking of which, she says she's going flying this evening, so I might…stay in Leli's room, if that's all right with you."
Corin bent over to examine his armor and hide his smile. "That's fine with me. I'm just going to get this cleaned up, get a bath and some food and see if I can sleep."
"I was out like a snuffed candle after Leli and I were done, before you woke me up," Alistair said, with what could only be described as a cocky grin. "Maybe you should be having a bit more 'fun' yourself."
"Not currently possible," Corin said, straightening up and shrugging. "It wouldn't be politic for me to go to The Pearl now and somehow I think that even if the Queen does say yes, she's not going to volunteer me a lullaby."
Alistair shuddered. "I don't see how you can face it, Corin, the idea of sleeping with her. She scares me."
"Oh, Anora's not so bad as all that. She's rather nice once you get to know her."
"Maybe to really clever people like you she's nice. People like me, not so much. I told you that my male parts just want to draw up and hide when she's around. That hasn't changed."
"Well then it's fortunate you're not the one contemplating marriage to her."
"It could still come up." The two young men regarded each other somberly for a moment, silently acknowledging the possibility that one or both of them might not survive the ending of the Blight. Then Alistair clapped his Warden brother on the shoulder.
"You've had a really rotten night, and all because of me. How about you ring for your bath and I'll clean your armor for you while you wash up?"
"That would be really great, Alistair. Thank you." Corin scrubbed at his eyes wearily. "Wynne was going to send my supper up. Shall I have the maid bring yours as well?"
"That would be great. It'll be like old times, when it was just you and me sitting around the campfire cleaning our armor at night."
"It was never just you and me. In the beginning it was you and me and Morrigan."
"Quit that! I'm editing my memories to make them more palatable. Don't contradict."
Anora was leaving the dining room when she saw the Wilder witch coming down the stairs. Morrigan had divested herself of her armor and was back in one of her skimpy ensembles. She favored the Queen of Ferelden with the merest inclination of her head as she passed, walked three steps beyond her, then stopped suddenly and turned on her heel. Golden eyes like a hawk's skewered Anora where she stood.
"Corin will make you happy, if you let him," the witch said.
Resisting the urge to snap that her love life was none of Morrigan's business, Anora asked instead, "Did he make you happy?"
The witch's eyes grew distant. "Yes. For as long as I dared let him." In an abrupt change of subject, she added, "You might want to close the door when I am gone."
"You're not going out again tonight, are you? After what happened earlier?"
"You needn't worry. No one will be able to touch me." Without further ado, or any acknowledgement of Anora's rank whatsoever, Morrigan resumed her progress to the front door.
I am hardly worried, Anora thought, but she trailed behind, curious.
When Morrigan reached the door, she threw the heavy, iron-studded wood open easily. Then a golden shimmer seemed to coalesce around her, solidifying into a white-gold light. When it faded, there was not a woman standing there any more. Instead, a large grey owl ghosted out into the night.
Anora took a step back, nonplussed. She knew something of the schools of magic that were taught in the Circle, but she didn't recollect hearing anything of shape-shifting.
Interesting. I wonder what other sorts of odd magics are out there in Ferelden's backwaters and corners, her always analytical brain speculated. That skill would be very useful for eluding Templars, if they couldn't sense the magic. Then she thought, He's slept with her. Is she even human?
But human or not, Morrigan had been right about one thing. With sunset, the air had begun to cool considerably. Anora went to pull the door closed
She went up to Cousland's room some time later and knocked on the door. It was opened by Alistair, who was wiping his hands upon a towel.
"Oh! Your Majesty! What can I do for you?" There was a scent of leather oil in the air, by which Anora deduced he'd been working on armor.
"Is Lord Cousland in?"
"Yes, he is in, but it's twice over he's in, as in he's in but he's also in the bath." He paused to parse out what he'd just said, an obvious look of relief coming over his face as he found it coherent. She tilted her head, and heard the sounds of splashing water at the far end of the room behind the screen.
"I see. Well, thank you. Perhaps I might come by a little later…no, wait, neither of you have even had dinner yet, have you? I'll leave it for another time."
Alistair stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him.
"I know Corin would be disappointed if you didn't come back, my lady." She smiled. It was hard not to, he was so earnest and friendly. Like Cailan. A great big puppy.
"I…haven't seen that much of you, Your Majesty," he went on, "and it never seemed the right time, but I'd like to offer my condolences on your loss."
That surprised her. "That's very kind of you, Alistair. I must say that yours is only the third such offer that felt genuine to me, though I've received any number of sycophantic ones. Allow me to offer my condolences to you as well, unless that makes you uncomfortable."
He ran his hand up into the stiff-cut brush of hair at the top of his head. "No, not uncomfortable. But even if Cailan was my half-brother, I don't pretend that it is anything like the grief you must be feeling. You knew him your whole life, after all. So you lost a friend as well as a husband."
"That's very insightful of you."
"Yes, well insight's bound to strike once or twice a year, even for me." Cailan's half-brother said with a deprecating grin. It was actually Maric's grin, not Cailan's, the Queen realized. Oh, the similarities were there, in the shape of the face and nose and mouth particularly, but the coloring was different. Up close, both the similarities and differences were more obvious. Alistair was more a different version of Maric than he was a copy of Cailan. She wasn't sure if she was comforted or disappointed by that.
"How is the mabari? Pooka, isn't it? That is what I actually came upstairs to find out."
"Pooka? He's going to be fine. Just a little under the weather for a few days. Corin will be pleased you asked."
"You and Lord Cousland have become very close over the last year, haven't you?"
"You could say that. I do know that if the Maker had ever offered to make me my perfect brother, it would be that man in there." Perhaps a little abashed at the fervor of that declaration, Alistair continued. "And I like to think that maybe I fill in a bit of empty space for him. I can't replace Fergus, of course, but maybe he doesn't feel so alone."
"I know for a fact that you're a great comfort to him," Anora said. "He speaks of you very highly." They stared at each other in mutual reassessment for a few moments, then the Queen inclined her head. "I might come back later. Thank you, Alistair."
He gave her a half bow. "Your Majesty."
Anora did come back later, over an hour later, after spending the interim time trying to read. She was not sure why she felt compelled to do so, she simply did. I need to speak to Cousland one more time before I decide, she told herself. More of that informed decision making.
The door to his room was ajar, spilling firelight out into the hall. She peeked around it, to find him alone, clad in another of his disreputable tunics and a pair of breeches, finishing what looked to be a huge dinner at a small table pulled over in front of the fireplace. There were two sets of plates on the table, which indicated Alistair had probably kept him company, but the other Warden was gone now. The Mabari's massive head was resting on his bare foot, but it lifted when the dog sensed her. Cousland looked over at the door as well, and started to rise from his chair when he saw her.
"Your Majesty."
"Sit. Sit. I know better than to come between a Grey Warden and his food."
"Alistair said you'd come by earlier. I'm glad you came back. Pull up a chair if you'd like."
She did so, closing the door behind her and moving one of the overstuffed armchairs that was already close to the fire a little closer to the table. When she seated herself, her own foot was in close proximity to the mabari, who was regarding her with dark, dark brown eyes. She leaned over and presented her hand to him to sniff.
"Pooka, this is Anora. The Queen." It was the first time Cousland had ever used her given name and a little thrill shot down her spine. Then she realized that the introduction was to give the dog names to go with her face and scent. "Your Majesty, this is Pooka."
The mabari deliberated over the scent of her hand for a few moments, then gave it a tiny lick with just the tip of his massive tongue.
"There you go. Properly introduced," Cousland said with a smile. She refrained from wiping the hand on the arm of the chair, simply dropping it into her lap. The young Warden seemed very much a "love me, love my dog," sort of person. Anora had never particularly cared for pets and she suspected that if she had, they would have been cats. But mabari were hardly pets. She was, she realized, being introduced to the family.
"He looks much better than when you carried him in here earlier," she noted.
"He's a lot cleaner, at the very least," Cousland said. "I have Wynne to thank for that."
When Wynne was named, Pooka made a grumbling sigh and dropped his head back onto Cousland's foot. The Warden chuckled and took up his fork once more.
"Are you sure you don't mind?" he asked, indicating his plate.
"I'm sure. From the sound of things, you put in a hard day's work tonight."
"If there had been just a couple more, I don't know if I'd be sitting here talking to you," he admitted wryly. A surprisingly sharp pang shot through Anora at that statement.
"You weren't hurt, were you?"
"A little." He set the fork down and shoved the sleeve of the somewhat baggy tunic up his sword arm to show her a red scar near the elbow. "This and a cracked rib. Potions took care of them. Thanks for asking, though." Cousland then took his fork up again and ate the last bit of his roast beef before asking, "Was there something in particular you wanted to see me about?"
"Actually, yes. Aside from seeing if Pooka was all right, I wanted to ask you what your plans were for the Landsmeet."
"Ah. I wondered when we'd come to that." He set the fork down, rose, and actually picked the small table up carefully, dishes and all, to move it off to the side. Then he moved his own chair closer to the fire and hers and sat back down. "The plan is that Alistair and I will go in the front entrance together, most likely with Morrigan and Sten. The arl wants you to slip into the chamber from the side entrance. He'll have a large escort of his men with you and I'm sending Shale, Oghren, Leliana and Wynne with you as well. Zevran will be scouting, so he'll be with you, but I doubt you'll actually see him." She raised an eyebrow at that and he grinned. "Antivan Crows of Zev's caliber are very sneaky."
"And how exactly did you come to have a Crow in your retinue?"
"That's an easy one. Your father hired him to kill me."
"Surely my father wouldn't…"
"I suspect Howe did the actual arranging, but your father certainly did sign off on it. After Zevran failed in his attempt to kill me, I interrogated him and he said that he had spoken to your father in Denerim and that he was the one who wanted me dead. Well, me and Alistair. He'd been contracted to kill the last living Wardens."
"I am sorry, for what that is worth," Anora said.
Cousland shrugged. "It's hardly your fault and it worked out well in the end. Zevran obviously failed. By chance, we were able to take him alive and afterwards he offered to leave the Crows and join me. He didn't have much to lose-as far as the Crows were concerned, he was a dead man already for failing to kill me. They don't have much use for failure. I, on the other hand, thought he might be useful, so I took him up on his offer."
"And you trust him?"
"Yes. When the rest of the cell came after me, he stood at my side and fought them."
"The cell of Crows that were found in a back alley recently?"
"Yes. That was them."
"Aren't you afraid they'll send more?"
"Not at all. I'm on very good terms with one of the guild masters. We collaborated on a couple of mutual problems."
"You…assassinated people for the Crows?" That hardly seemed in character.
"Not exactly. They were straight-up fights, with people who were working for your father. The guild master had been hired to do them, but they weren't really his sort of thing and according to him, he had more work than he could handle. 'Lots of people not getting along,'" Cousland said in an Antivan accent.
In his own voice, he continued. "Straight-up fights are my sort of thing, and they were people I'd have been happy to kill anyway. He said if I took care of them for him, he'd see that the Crows wouldn't accept any more contracts on me. Your father's contract had been arranged before our agreement was in place, so he couldn't stop that. Since I survived it, I'm safe enough from the Crows." Another flashing grin. "The darkspawn and the Archdemon are, of course, another matter entirely."
"What do you intend to do about my father?"
The grin vanished as quickly as it had come and he was Master Diffidence once more. "That rather depends upon what happens at the Landsmeet. I think I've got enough votes to force him to step down from the Regency. I could be wrong."
"And if he resigns his position?"
"Then he goes into the Tower until we fix the Blight. Afterwards…well, afterwards really depends upon who is alive afterwards, doesn't it?"
"He is a great strategist. He could be useful."
Cousland frowned. "I mean no offense to you, my lady, when I say I've been profoundly unimpressed with both his strategic abilities and his loyalty to date, at Ostagar and afterwards. I won't have him on any battlefield I'm on. I can't trust him, and perhaps you shouldn't either." He leaned back in his chair and sighed, his eyes hooded.
"I'm going to tell you something and you may choose to believe it or not. I know that the timing will make it suspect, but I do ask you to remember that I've been absolutely honest with you so far."
"Go on."
"As you may know, the Wardens had three ancient treaties-with the Circle, the Dalish Elves and the Dwarves. I decided to pursue the one with the Dwarves first, so my people and I headed into the Frostback Mountains. When we reached the gates of Orzammar, we found them closed. King Endrin had died, and the dwarves were in the middle of some profound civil unrest, due to the two warring factions competing for the throne. They weren't letting anyone in until the matter of the succession was settled."
Cousland's brow furrowed. "An emissary of your father's was there when we arrived. Some bleater named Imrek. Do you know who I'm talking about?"
Anora nodded, remembering a pallid, distastefully sycophantic man in her father's circle of supporters.
"He was at the gates of Orzammar, demanding entrance. He wanted in so that he could speak to the Assembly and demand their allegiance to 'King Loghain'."
"King Loghain?"
"That's right. Not Regent Loghain, or Regent Loghain and Queen Anora. You were never mentioned. King Loghain. No Landsmeet had been called that I had heard of, to ratify your father's claim to the throne. But there this Imrek was, bleating about how he was 'King Loghain's appointed messenger' and that 'King Loghain insisted upon the deshyrs' allegience.' When I showed up, the bleating turned to how 'the Grey Wardens are the sworn enemies of King Loghain!' and the dwarves needed to arrest me."
"Did they?"
"Of course not. Did I mention how unimpressed I was with your father's statecraft? You don't send someone like Imrek to treat with the dwarves. If you can get your hands on a Grey Warden and convince him to be political instead of neutral, you send him."
"Why?"
"Because Grey Wardens are special. We kill darkspawn. Dwarves kill darkspawn. There's commonality there. We're buddies."
Seeing how well Cousland got along with the drunken dwarf, Anora could well believe that. "Perhaps Father was hoping the dwarves would kill Imrek," she suggested.
Cousland grinned. "Or perhaps he just wanted him out of earshot! In any event, the dwarves didn't have to kill Imrek, because I did. After which the gatekeeper thanked me kindly for the favor and let me into Orzammar." He sobered. "Your Majesty, you may believe me or not, but please remember that this was months ago. You're an intelligent lady. Put the pieces together and see what they add up to yourself."
He slid his foot carefully out from under Pooka's head, got to his feet and began to pace.
"My father, who is Ferelden's other teyrn and your father's only serious competition for the throne and his entire family are slain, days before Ostagar. Then your father betrays Cailan and he is killed. Your father is named Regent. My father's reputation is ruined with accusations of treason and collaboration with the Orlesians. Being dead, he's hardly in a position to defend himself against the charges, now is he? He and his heirs are divested of Highever and it is given to Howe." There was a muscle jumping in Cousland's jaw though his voice was, as ever, calm. Anora could see it from where she sat.
"I think there are a couple of reasons for that.. The first is because your father is not absolutely certain Fergus is dead and he doesn't want him showing back up and opposing him in the Landsmeet. The son of an attainted traitor is no threat. The second is because he needs to justify Howe's attack, make it out to be something other than the unjustified, merciless massacre thatit was. There may be people who suspect the truth, but when they see what happened to Bryce Cousland and his family, they're not going to speak up. In the same time frame, he has Arl Eamon poisoned, removing his other major obstacle."
Cousland turned on his heel to face her. "So now he's got the throne. And he's got you to bolster his claim. Only he's got bigger ambitions than regent. Some of his toadies know that and begin acting as if it's already fact."
"Could Imrek have been making assumptions?" Anora asked, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"I suppose so. But if Imrek was making assumptions, then he was certainly too stupid to be sent as a diplomat on a sensitive mission to a foreign power. There aren't many humans before the gates of Orzammar and the ones that are, aren't usually of a social status to influence Fereldan politics. There was no way your father could have expected me to intercept his messenger. I think Imrek was told to address the dwarves as a King's emissary, because a King rates more respect than a mere regent. And because your father expected to be King in short order anyway."
Anora rubbed her temple. Cousland returned to his chair and dropped back into it. Pooka lifted his head and laid it back upon his master's foot again. The young Warden bent over to ruffle his ears.
"I wonder sometimes, how much Cailan knew about this," she said softly. "I've always assumed he was taken by surprise."
Cousland sat back up, elbows on knees and stared into the fire. "I don't have a definite answer for that one. I don't think anyone ever will. I brought you back everything from the arms chest-there certainly wasn't a journal or letter or anything to indicate Cailan had reservations about your father's loyalty or was less than confident. But he may have known more than you think."
'Why do you say that?"
"The King greeted Duncan personally when he returned with me to Ostagar. I was standing right beside Duncan when he asked Cailan to send for Arl Eamon and the Redcliffe men before he attacked. He told Cailan that the arl could be at Ostagar within the week and Cailan refused, saying that Eamon just wanted to share the glory. The King spoke of the battles that they'd already fought and the easy victories they'd gained. He seemed very confident. Foolishly over-confident, I thought and told Duncan as much. He agreed with me. But…"
"But what?"
"But Elric Maraigne told me as he lay dying that 'despite his bravado, even Cailan knew that there would be no victory at Ostagar.' And Elric was very close to the King."
"Yes, he was," Anora said with a frown. "I was not overmuch happy to hear that he'd deserted Cailan."
"He paid all the price for that he could."
"True enough, I suppose. Maker grant him grace."
"I did some asking around when I first got into the camp," Cousland continued. "As you might imagine, I was more than a little suspicious given what had happened to my family and wanted to find out everything I could about the current situation. I even requested an audience with your father."
Anora was surprised. "You did?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I? I needed all the help I could get. Teyrn Loghain on my side would be a great ally."
"What did Father say?"
"He knew who I was of course. It wasn't the first time we'd met, though I was fourteen the last time I'd seen him. It was a pleasant enough conversation. He assured me that Cailan would see that I got justice and we discussed Grey Warden history. He talked a bit about how Cailan was obsessed with the Wardens and he was trying to make him see reason. All very innocuous." Cousland twined his fingers together, steepled the two index fingers and leveled them in Anora's direction.
"But-one of Cailan's guards told me that he'd been arguing with your father, loudly and often, and that it was about you. One of your father's guards also mentioned the arguments, though he said nothing about the subject."
"Do you think Father knew about Eamon's campaign to have me set aside?"
Cousland dropped his hands and nodded. "That's the most likely explanation. And a more than adequate motive. And there's something else that was odd. I was included in the last strategy meeting before the battle began. By the King's express command."
"Why ever would Cailan have invited you? I mean no offense, of course."
"None taken. I quite agree with you-why indeed? There we all were; Warden-Commander Duncan, Teyrn Loghain, the Revered Mother, Uldred the Senior Enchanter, King Cailan-and The Newest Junior Warden of No Importance Whatsoever. Duncan told me of the command right after I'd woken up from my Joining. I asked Duncan why the king wanted me and he had no answer for me. But it was a royal command, so I joined them as soon as I'd washed up and was reasonably steady on my feet."
"What did Cailan say? Did he seem in good spirits?" Anora asked a little wistfully. Her father had had plenty to say about the late King, about his obsession with the treacherous Wardens, about his recklessness and disregard for his duty. It may have been accurate, but it was hardly comforting. Cousland was apparently the only other person still alive who had seen her husband in his last hours.
"He seemed in very good spirits. He congratulated me on my Joining. I don't think he realized that I was the only one of three to survive."
"Maker! Do that many potential Wardens die?" Anora was appalled, though she could certainly understand why the Grey Wardens were so secretive about their rituals, if they were that deadly.
"I don't think so. They only lost one when Alistair Joined and I think sometimes they don't lose anybody at all. The overall average is probably pretty small. Though it does explain why the Wardens tend to recruit the desperate with nothing to lose. Salves the recruiter's conscience, if nothing else. I gather Duncan was a thief before he became a Grey Warden, and so was one of the men at my Joining. They pluck Warden candidates off the gallows all the time. And I've already told you about the bargain that made me a Warden." Cousland gave her a rueful smile.
"But enough of that. Sore subject, as you know. As I said, the King seemed in very good spirits. Your father gave him a lecture upon attending to reality rather than legends, and some rather pointed commentary about not risking himself down with the Wardens."
"Why would he discourage Cailan from doing that, if he planned to betray him…" Anora mused, then paled a little. "Unless…"
"Unless what?" the young Warden asked, his eyes intent upon her.
"My father and I used to discuss his frustrations with Cailan. And I told him that the problem was that Cailan was stubborn and would dig his heels in if he thought he were being forced to do something. That the best way to get Cailan to do something you wanted him to do was by misdirection."
"Push for exactly the opposite of the outcome you want?"
"It used to work for me."
"So he was goading Cailan into fighting with the Wardens by telling him not to?" Anora nodded.
Cousland looked thoughtful. "It's also possible that your father still hadn't made his mind up about betraying Cailan. That he was leaving it up to Fate, as it were. If Cailan had heeded him and done as he asked, perhaps he'd have stayed and fought."
"And then called Howe to account for Highever?" Anora was skeptical. "It's awfully even-handed of you to give him the benefit of the doubt, Lord Cousland, but I don't know. As much as I'd like to excuse my father, he's usually not that indecisive once he's set upon a course of action."
"Well, whatever his intentions, Cailan wasn't much pleased and got huffy, told your father to show his strategy. We discussed everyone's positions and the timing of the flanking attack, and how it would start when the beacon in the Tower of Ishal was lit. Senior Enchanter Uldred wanted to signal with magic instead, but the Revered Mother nixed that idea. Your father said he had men stationed in the tower to do the task, but Cailan said we needed our best people on something so crucial and he looked across the table at me and said that Alistair and I would go. Your father got a little snarky about Cailan putting too much faith in Wardens at that point, but the king held his ground."
"It was supposed to be a safe posting. One of the safest on the field, from the sound of things," Anora mused.
"Exactly. No one could anticipate that the darkspawn would tunnel up under the Tower and break in. He was putting us out of harm's way."
"To save his only heir and what might be Highever's only heir as well?"
"That's what I think. After all, Fergus hadn't returned from the Wilds as expected." Cousland gazed into the fire for a moment, before turning his gaze back to Anora.
"I didn't know who Alistair was at that point in time. But I did know that Duncan had kept him from the earlier battles and he was very frustrated about it. So I told the king that if it wasn't particularly dangerous, I could go do it by myself. I figured that maybe then Alistair could get into the fight. And Cailan looked me straight in the eye and said very firmly, 'No. I want both of you to go.'"
"Which indicated to you that he was trying to tell you something else."
Cousland nodded. "Why call me to the meeting just to tell me that? It was a simple order, nothing important enough to warrant my presence there. He could have relayed his decision via Duncan. And he didn't ask Alistair to come to the meeting-probably knew he'd have a fight on his hands."
"Do you think he was trying to tell you Alistair was important?"
"That's the most likely answer. Or maybe it was just that he was trying to communicate to me that he hadn't forgotten his promise to see justice done for my family. But I have wondered from time to time if there wasn't something else. He called me to the meeting, let me see the strategy that had been decided upon-then sent me to what he believed to be was safety."
Anora's eyebrows went up. "A witness. A teyrn's son as witness."
"Exactly. If Cailan knew more than he was letting on, then that's a possibility."
"And he didn't send for Eamon, because Eamon had the next largest army after my father's and he was trying to leave something in reserve."
"Possibly. But there's no real way to know until we go to the Maker's side and ask him."
"Will you put forward what you know about the battle at the Landsmeet?"
Cousland leaned back against his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm not entirely sure, but I don't think so. I wasn't in a position to actually observe the battle itself and I've got enough other evidence to confront your father with, evidence that's a lot more difficult to dispute."
"And what happens if my father won't step down?" The question was softly spoken, but it was the hard question, the question Anora had been waiting for the opportunity to ask.
He didn't hesitate. She had thought that surely he must, or would make swift promises of mercy in an effort to gain her support. Instead, his head turned, his eyes bored into hers and his voice when he spoke had that chilling diffidence.
"Then one of us doesn't leave the Landsmeet alive. And I won't lie and promise that even if he does step down he will live, Your Majesty. If we stop the Blight and he's in prison, then the day will come when he must answer for what he has done and allowed to be done in his name. To Cailan. To me and all my family, including my seven-year-old nephew. To Eamon. To Alfstanna. To Sighard. To all the king's men and Wardens who died at Ostagar, and to his own men, whose lives he spared at the expense of their honor. To all the broken families in the Alienage. He must answer."
"I…see. Well, that is certainly honest at least, Lord Cousland." She got to her feet and he rose as well. "I give you good evening."
"And to you, Your Majesty," he said, politely showing her to the door. He said nothing more and his expression was unreadable.
Anora went back to her rooms, only to be confronted by a scolding Erlina, who subjected her to an Orlesian-accented rant upon propriety. "You were in hez bedroom! Alone! For a very long time! What vill people think?"
"I really don't care, Erlina!" Anora snapped. "I think Ferelden has more important things to worry about than whether I'm warming my bed without even mourning my husband for a year. Now go draw me a bath!"
Later, soaking in the hot, perfumed water, she pondered her choices. To betray Cousland, Alistair and Eamon. To marry Alistair. To marry Cousland.
Eamon would back a marriage to Alistair. Would he do so if I chose Cousland? Possibly-he owes the man his life and the life of his family. But he'd probably prefer Alistair, given that he can influence him.
As for Father…whether I believe everything Cousland told me or not, the plain fact is that he pushed me aside the moment he became Regent, despite his assertion that he would only be commanding the armies while I dealt with all else. I can't number the times he and Howe were conferring, only to fall silent when I walked in. And if he does intend to be crowned, what does he think he is going to do? He is not a young man. He would have to marry again to produce heirs and there I'd be, dowager queen. Not much of a change from Cousland and Eamon finding a different wife for Alistair and setting me aside.
Given the choice between ruling despite Alistair or ruling beside Cousland, I know which I would choose.
She found Corin Cousland physically attractive and mentally acute. She enjoyed their conversations. He had gathered together the most diverse group of associates she had ever seen, beings of all backgrounds and temperaments, united them and welded them into a formidable weapon by sheer force of personality. Certainly a useful skill for a king to have. He had arguably accomplished more for the good of Ferelden in the last year than Cailan had accomplished in his entire reign. And what she had seen this evening could be called by only one name-integrity.
But if I chose him, then my father is most likely going to die.
She pondered until the water in the bath grew cold, and Erlina chivvied her out of it and into bed.
Alistair returned to the room in the morning to find his Warden brother sound asleep on the floor by the hearth, curled around his mabari, a blanket thrown over them both. A pile of books on the small table, which had been pulled back over by the chair, indicated a late night. He smiled. The nights where Corin woke him with nightmares outnumbered the nights he woke Corin by almost two to one. It was rare indeed that Corin slept as soundly as he was doing now, usually rousing at the least sound in his proximity. Now he was oblivious.
Is that a snore I hear?
There was a knock at the door. Upon opening it, he discovered the Queen's maid, Erlina and a couple of package-laden footmen out in the hall.
"I have some things here for Lord Cousland. From the Queen," she said imperiously.
"I'll take them," Alistair said at once. "He's still asleep and I don't want to disturb him. I'll be sure to tell him when he wakes."
Erlina did not look happy about that, but Alistair was capable of an amiable obstinacy that could be difficult to resist. He accepted the first, bulkier package and knew what it was immediately. Laying it upon the bed, he came back for the second, then thanked the footmen and Erlina and shut the door.
His stomach was growling most angrily. So he only took a moment to fold back the fabric and admire the way the morning light hit the objects within before he set off downstairs to get breakfast.
It took two rashers of bacon, a half dozen eggs and some other oddments to lay his appetite to rest. When he came back, Corin was awake, standing by the bed and brushing a hand lightly over the gilded dragonbone of Cailan's armor and the scabbard of Maric's sword, both of them glimmering in the strengthening light from the window. He looked pensive.
"I still don't claim to know anything about women," Alistair said with a grin. "But from where I'm standing, that looks like a yes."