Many thanks to those who've added this story to favs/alerts. And to all the reviewers. Just broke 40. You guys are awesome and your support and encouragement is much appreciated. Glad you're enjoying my tale. Thanks, once again, to brownc0at for the beta. Last, but not least, to all you lurkers in the shadows.

Our little band has returned from the tower with the lyrium and the mages for the ritual. Now comes 'the hardest part.' Waiting.

Darrian Tabris

We made it back to the castle just before sunset. Zevran had been uncharacteristically silent the whole trip back. Alistair remarked when I mentioned this that at least he didn't have to deal with the man's constant flirting and comments about…'you know.'

I had taken Master Irving aside on the ride back and told him about Jowan. He didn't seem too comfortable with my suggestion to let Jowan confront the demon. But he did agree to think about it.

"Thank the Maker," I heard Alistair whisper when we returned to Redcliffe Castle and found it, if not peaceful, at least quiet. Wynne, Leliana, and Tam were also waiting in the main hall with Teagan when we returned. Sten was still keeping watch in the hallway outside Connor's room. I wondered if the qunari had slept at all while we were gone.

We waited in the main hall with Teagan while a guard fetched Jowan. The mage seemed to have been reasonably well treated during our absence. His bruises had faded to mottled yellow, and while the tunic and pants he wore were worn and faded, they were at least clean. He stood quietly, his eyes down.

"Darrian has suggested to me that you be allowed to confront the demon," Irving said.

"First Enchanter, I protest," Commander Gregoir said, his eyes narrow and hard. "This man is a maleficar. He's attacked templars with blood magic."

"Oh, pardon him for trying to survive," Morrigan said.

"Morrigan, please." She glared at me, then stalked out of the room.

"Please, First Enchanter. I know what I've done is wrong. Let me make it right. Let me redeem myself."

"First Enchanter," Wynne said, stepping forward. "Doesn't the Chant teach us to make amends for the wrongs we've done? To seek forgiveness from those we've injured?"

"Blood magic," Commander Gregoir muttered and fingered the hilt of his sword. The First Enchanter's eyes met mine, then he turned back to Jowan.

"What if the demon takes possession of him?" Gregoir said.

"That is why you are here, Commander." Jowan flinched, but then he met Irving's eyes, and didn't look away.

"Let Jowan try," Irving said. Gregoir studied the blood mage for a long moment, then gave a curt nod and followed as Jowan was led away to where the mages, who'd come with us, were preparing the ritual.

"What now, First Enchanter?" I asked.

"Now? We can only wait. I would ask that you do that here. It's vital that the mages aren't disturbed while they're conducting the ritual, and Jowan is in the Fade confronting the demon. There's no way of telling how long that will take. Time passes differently there." Then he inclined his head and left.

Teagan motioned to a table where a simple meal of fried fish and potatoes had been set out.

"Please, it's not much. But we've restored some order to the castle."

We joined him at the table, but none of us seemed inclined to eat much. Alistair didn't even touch his food. I think Tam was the only one with any appetite. The mabari was quite happy with the generous scraps he received. After dinner, he settled down by the fire and dozed off.

I was never good at waiting. So I asked Teagan if there was a place where I could go for weapon practice.

"I could use some practice myself," Zevran said.

Teagan had a guard show us to an indoor practice yard. The guard lingered a moment, then left.

I stripped off my armor and laid it on a side table. After wearing the supple leather every day since I'd left Denerim, it had come to feel like a second skin. I felt vulnerable without it, more so when I remembered I'd just stripped it off in front of the man who'd been hired to kill me. And was now trying to bed me.

But when I turned I saw Zevran had also stripped down to pants. He smiled and saluted me with his sword before moving into a warm-up routine. He flowed through it, gliding from one stance to the next, muscles rippling under honey skin. His form smooth. Flawless. He stepped so lightly. I caught myself thinking how beautiful he was. But all that fluid grace had been trained for only one purpose.

But then, wasn't I being trained for only one purpose, as well? I pulled out my weapons and began my own dance. We practiced separately, but somewhere in the middle of the dance, we came together. Steel chimed against steel, sword against dagger and dagger blocking sword.

We were both panting from the exercise, and his skin had a rosy flush under the golden tones. His amber eyes shone.

He whirled away and came at me low with both blades. I jumped over them, and then pivoted on landing, my dagger at waist level and my sword high. He'd anticipated perfectly. Grinning, he danced back and went for a two handed sweep. A move that looks pretty, but is pointless, since it robs the dagger of its defensive role in two-weapon fighting. I skipped back and tossed my dagger into a corner. He did the same.

We came back to the center, one sword against one sword. We danced so well together. Then he cast aside his sword, and mine followed with a ringing chime of steel. He circled low, grinning like a cat, his hands held up. My foot lashed out. He caught it, twisted, and I landed on my backside, hard. I winced. He surged forward and pinned me beneath him, his strong hands closing around my forearms and pressing them against the cool gray stone.

His eyes glittered, and under the sheen of sweat, his skin glowed. He leaned closer, smiling, till strands of his hair brushed my face. His lips a breath from mine, my heart sped up, and desire, hot and sweet, surged through me. Pressed tight against me, he had to feel it…as I felt his.

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