Author's Note: Busy week, sorry everyone! Hope this chapter makes up for it... :) Thanks yet again for reading! Not far to go now...

Mystialla - No worries, I like long reviews, so thank you. ^_^ And answering questions is fun. I just have to stop myself from putting a wall of notes before every chapter, hehe.

Hekateras - Thanks :D Unofficially, I picked Concentrated Crow Poison for that tasty stun effect. He was definitely trying to kill Zev... and if not for Ferrix (and a slight case of overconfidence), he would have.

By the time Asleena had descended the tower and emerged blinking into the afternoon sunlight, Ferrix had almost reached the gates. He skidded to a stop when he saw her, paws scoring lines in the dirt, and did not come to her for attention but yelped urgently, running back and bounding forwards again.

Maker's breath…where's Zev?

"Go!" she ordered the mabari, and jumped past the startled Templars to chase Ferrix south into the trees and down by the riverbank. It took a while. She wasn't as fast as the warhound, she was wearing full armour and she'd just come down several flights of stairs, but eventually Ferrix led her to a spot away from the villages of Starkhaven and near the running water.

The grass and earth were wet, it looked like someone had been dragged up from the river, and there was a large patch of fresh blood.

Ferrix snuffled around the sullied earth and whined, looking up at his shocked mistress with head lowered and tail down as though awaiting a scolding for leaving the Antivan unprotected. It was only then that Asleena saw the bloody furrows a blade had left in her dog's hide.

"Bastards," she whispered, kneeling, removing her gauntlets and taking Ferrix's head to inspect the damage. He was damp, she noticed, and his kaddis was running and smeared. "What were you doing in the river?" she murmured, fishing for the mabari crunch in her belt pouch and breaking a piece off for him. Her eyes returned to the marks in the bank and she stood, mind presenting numerous possibilities, none of which were good. Her heart had already been pounding from the run, but now it quickened for a different reason.

He was wounded. Maybe he'd gone for cover rather than sit in the open? If he'd been killed the Crows would have just left him lying in the dirt, wouldn't they? Or would they have dumped his body…?

She looked at the river, sucked in a breath past the fist clamping around her throat and cupped her hands to her mouth. "Zevran!"

Nothing.

Ferrix whimpered uncertainly and paced a little way east, sniffing at the ground then stopping to look back at Asleena. She came over quickly and crouched, finding the bloody speckle in the dirt. There was more further on. If he hadn't even tried to staunch his wounds, something was very wrong.

"Good boy." She rubbed her warhound's head, careful to avoid his injuries. "Lead the way."

Ferrix led her swiftly through the undergrowth, his nose to the earth, and Asleena followed with her eyes alert for danger and her jaw tightly clenched. She could handle Crows. She should have done something about them back in Markham instead of recruiting their leader and expecting the rest to disappear, but noooo, she'd had to be merciful and sodding stupid. Zevran had originally signed up with her believing she would protect him from his assassin brethren, and she'd been fool enough to leave some alive at their backs—Crows who had known where they were going.

"Idiot," she whispered angrily.

He was alive. He had to be…

Mabari and Warden broke out of the trees and back into civilisation. There were a few log cabins in this out-of-the-way area but no people about. Ferrix trotted ahead then broke into a run, barking as he barrelled towards the wooden door of a not-so-distant house. Asleena ran after him, stopping by the small front window. The curtains were almost fully drawn, but a crack allowed her to get a look inside. Sheer relief sparked when she saw Zevran, seated and shirtless, facing the door but head lowered as he dabbed at his bleeding stomach with a cloth. His hair looked damp and dishevelled.

So he'd just gone for cover? But…why run here instead of towards the Circle Tower where there were healers?

Relief faded to suspicion, confirmed when Ferrix began to growl at the door. It was a threatening, guttural rumble that brought back unpleasant memories of Highever…and blood.

Trap?

She hesitated, then tapped at the windowpane. Zevran looked up at her through the glass, smiled as though nothing was amiss, and made a signal for her to enter.

Reaching down to keep a hand on Ferrix's head to prevent him from charging in, she turned the doorknob and pushed the door open without entering. Unlocked, unbarred…

Zevran raised a brow at her hesitance from where he sat. "You are in no danger," he said, then smiled. "Except, as usual, from me." He glanced at the snarling Ferrix. "Leave him outside, my Grey Warden. The owners of this house could come back any minute, and he can warn us should we need to make a speedy exit." He tilted his head a bit, indicating a large window behind him which backlit the elf with brilliant sunlight, illuminating his pale hair and shadowing his face.

"Ferrix…stay." The warhound's hackles were up and his ears laid back, but he slunk obediently to one side of the door and sat. His whole body was quivering with the danger he sensed, and Asleena crouched beside him to whisper: "I mean it. Stay. Warn us if anyone comes, but don't move unless Zev or I tell you to."

A mingled whine/growl and a paw scraping at her armoured knee was the mabari's response. Large brown eyes stared up at her in worry, but he stayed put when she gave his head a final pat and went inside, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it to glance quickly about the room. It was a hunter's cabin. There was one interior door, open, leading off into what looked like a sleeping area, but this room had a couple of simple chairs, a small table with an empty plate and pitcher upon it, some wooden frames with leather sheets stretched between the timbers…There was a stand with a heavy fur cloak near the front door and wooden pegs fixed into the wall nearby, from which hung assorted articles of clothing.

"How did the Joining go?" Zevran asked, pulling her attention to him.

"They both got through it," Asleena said. "They're recovering in the Circle Tower." She suddenly wished she hadn't mentioned that last bit. She should have said they were on their way. Something was wrong here, she knew it and Ferrix knew it. "Are you badly hurt?" she asked, coming further into the room. "What happened?"

"I was ambushed behind the Circle Tower. One of the Crows, naturally…disguised as a Templar." Zevran pulled the cloth away so she could see his battle-scar. There was a long scrape across his ribs as well. "They will need attention…his dagger was poisoned. Nothing immediately life-threatening, but that, blood loss and almost drowning in the river has left me a bit the worse for wear."

"You came here instead of going to the tower?"

Zevran chuckled softly and gifted her with a wry smile. "And risk another false-Templar finishing the job while I am weakened?"

"...oh. That makes sense, I guess." She frowned. It did make sense, but it didn't explain Ferrix's agitation. Was someone else in the room with them? She began to scour the shadowed, cluttered corners with her eyes, saying, "Well, you're with me now. No one's going to touch you when I'm around. Come on…let's get you to a healer."

Once again Zevran drew her gaze back to him, but this time by standing abruptly and advancing on her, a swagger in his step, a smile on his lips and a dark glint in his eyes. "I would prefer," he said quietly, dropping the bloody cloth, "other ministrations."

"That poison you mentioned doesn't have any side-effects, does it?" Asleena asked, backing away, but the way he was looking at her made her mouth go dry and her heart stutter in her chest.

"None whatsoever," Zevran said. "Coming close to death, on the other hand, can make a man rethink what he wants out of life. Who he wants…"

"We discussed this, Zev," Asleena warned, and almost jumped when she backed right into the door, her armour grinding against the wooden planks. Heat rushed to her cheeks and confusion tangled her tongue. "This can't…you promised…" She lifted a hand palm up towards him to stop his approach, but he walked straight into it. Deliberately. She hadn't put her gauntlets back on, so her bare hand was flat against the clean hard muscle of his chest. She could feel tauntingly warm flesh beneath her fingers, and the fluttering of a heartbeat that seemed to leap in response to her touch.

Zevran stopped briefly. Was it her imagination or had the seductive mask slipped for a split second? He pressed closer though, and her elbow bent helplessly to allow him near, fingers curling against his bronzed skin. His smell struck her with all the force of a High Dragon's flame: dizzying, intensely male, spices from Antiva, oils he used on his leathers to keep them supple and soundless…

She could feel her body's rising reaction to him and was suddenly terrified that Ferrix's warning had been about Zevran himself. But why? Why now, after everything that had been said between them?

"Don't," she managed to whisper, turning her face away to press her cheek into the door and free herself from the compelling combination of his eyes and scent. "Please, Zev…" She swallowed, felt tears of despair well as he bent his face to her neck and exhaled hot breath across her skin.

She couldn't stop him. Maker forgive her…she couldn't…

"Do not lose faith in me just yet, amore."

The murmur against her left ear was so quiet she almost missed it.

"We are not alone. There are two. You are looking straight where one hides. Say 'yes' when you can see her."

Asleena blinked her eyes a couple of times to clear them and stared into the corner with its coats and clothes, breathing raggedly as Zevran began to kiss her throat and work the buckle of her shoulder belt and scabbard with his fingers. There was a dull ringing sound as her sword and Duncan's shield came loose, hitting the floor.

"There is only so much time I can buy," Zevran warned in a rigidly controlled whisper, his hands shifting to undo the first straps of her armour.

She searched harder. Coats, a rust-coloured tunic…she looked lower, down near the floor, made out the outline of a leather boot and followed it up, all the while struggling against the waves of arousal Zevran was provoking. She almost lost sight of the hidden Crow beneath the folds of a leather cloak, but found her again by accident and ended up staring straight at a tanned elven face almost completely camouflaged behind the carved wooden hooks of the coat stand. The woman's leather-clad arm was outstretched in Asleena's direction, flat against the wall and covered by the clothes hanging from the wooden pegs. Just visible, barely seen, the mouth of a thin metal pipe extended beyond the draping of garments and was aimed straight between Asleena's eyes.

The buckles came loose and Zevran tugged a dragonbone piece from one arm, taking his time sliding it off and loosening the breastplate, brushing his lips and trailing his tongue along the now-exposed flesh of her collarbone. Asleena couldn't bite back a low whimper of a moan and turned her head away from the Crow's corner, lowering her mouth close to Zevran's ear.

"Yes," she tried to whisper, but it came out as a gasp.

"That one is mine," Zevran murmured, speaking on the side of her face the assassin could not see. His breath was coming harder. "The other…opposite corner, near the window. Find him."

One of his hands came up and turned her head to face the right way, an action he covered by beginning to undo the armour straps of her other arm while sucking and nibbling at her neck, giving the hidden Crow something to watch and less reason to suspect.

Without thinking, Asleena's arms were reaching for him now, one hand sliding up the back of his neck to the base of his skull, fingers knotting in his river-dampened hair. The other hand went to his back and traced down the curving length of his spine, feeling the reflexive tightening of his muscles and the light sheen of sweat on his skin. She didn't know if she was trying to assist his ruse or genuinely reacting to the situation by wanting to pull Zevran closer, but her movements summoned a soft noise from the back of the assassin's throat that was half groan, half growl and he stumbled against her, trembling beneath her touch.

He didn't speak. He didn't have to. If she kept on like that it would only make his display more difficult to pull off, or blow his self-control completely.

Asleena studied the far corner and wall of the room, but the glare of light shining through the window made it hard to see much and it was becoming increasingly difficult to think. She was nowhere near as experienced as Zevran; she didn't have his training. She didn't know how to keep her mind separate from all the sensory triggers he was flipping from one side of her body to the other.

He was pulling her other armoured sleeve and shoulder-guard off now, freeing access to her breastplate. And once he got that off her…

Her nails dug into Zevran's hip and he thrust closer to her in a sudden visceral response, gasping against the side of her neck. He grabbed at her wrist, tearing it away to pin against the door. His head lifted, eyes staring wildly into hers, but then she saw the figure beyond him. It was little more than a vague man-shaped shadow beside the window, screened by the brightness glaring through the glass. If she tried to look directly at it, it disappeared…

She looked at Zevran instead. "Yes," she whispered.

The breastplate came loose. The front part fell away from her, dangling to one side but prevented from hitting the floor by leather straps connecting it to the backplate, which was held fast between Asleena and the door. She wore a padded under-tunic beneath the armour to prevent it from chafing her skin, but it wasn't anywhere near thick enough to stop the heat of Zevran's body reaching hers or to conceal the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. Golden eyes still staring, lips only a breath away, he released her wrist and reached down between them to slowly trace the upper edge of the belt circling her waist.

Once more, he leaned in to one side and murmured. "That one is yours. Move quickly." The questing fingers paused at her belt dagger and wrapped around the hilt. Silently, he pulled the blade free. "Ready?" he breathed.

She nodded against his cheek. "Yes."

His lips brushed the side of her face, swift as the beat of a bird's wing, then he jerked her forwards and whirled away from her to one side, twisting a half-circle and driving the dagger into the female Crow's wrist as it moved to follow the Warden's path. There was a shriek of pain as the metal blade stabbed through leather, flesh and into the wooden wall, almost obliterating the tiny click of the spring-bow as it loosed its single quarrel into the water pitcher, which shattered.

Asleena didn't see this. She stumbled forwards and grabbed the only weapon available within reach: the chair Zevran had been sitting on. Seizing it in both hands she swung it around and threw it full-force at the spot she'd seen the shadow, a roar bursting from her lungs. The light-hidden assassin lunged out of the way, took one look at his disabled companion and the angry Grey Warden bearing down on him, then turned and crashed through the window. He rolled on the ground beyond and got up running.

"Ferrix!" Asleena shouted, rushing to the glass-littered sill. "Ferrix! Catch and kill!"

Within seconds the mabari had circled to the back of the cabin and charged after the fleeing Crow. There probably wasn't a man or woman alive who could outrun a dog of his size, and the assassin knew it. He made a beeline for another cabin and attempted to scrabble up the side, but Ferrix snatched a dangling leg in his jaws and bore the elf back to earth.

Asleena didn't watch but turned to Zevran, who was pulling Asleena's dar'misaan from the corpse of the female Crow. There was a steady patter of blood against the floorboards from her pinned wrist.

"Are you all right?" she asked him quietly.

"Yes. I think so." She saw his throat work as he swallowed, and he didn't look at her. "I am sorry, Asleena. It was the first idea that came to me which might have a hope of saving my own skin and allow me to get close enough to warn you. I had to look…convincing. Forgive me."

Her body still tingled at the memory. She couldn't help noticing the play of sunlight across his bare skin as he wiped her sword clean, or the silken shifting of muscle under flesh as he retrieved the scabbard from the floor to slide the blade home. He was beautiful, she realised. Not that she'd ever doubted this, it was just that she rarely allowed herself to appreciate the view. Beautiful and clever and in love with her and…and alone with her…

She took a quick breath. "Zevran—"

"I know where Alistair is," he interrupted, holding out the sheathed dar'misaan to her.

She took the weapon wordlessly, stricken dumb, her heart almost freezing in her chest. She didn't know what to say to that, much less think.

"I promised I would tell you when I found out," Zevran went on, taking a grip on the dagger stuck in the wall and wrenching it free. The female assassin's arm flopped down from beneath its covering of hanging clothes. "The Crows knew, and they told me. I can take you to him…if you wish it." Finally, his eyes turned to hers, awaiting an answer.

It was Asleena's turn to swallow and glance aside, more than able to feel ashamed now that her ardour was fading. Zevran was smart enough to know she hadn't been thinking clearly…but also hopeful enough to give her an obvious opening in which to change her mind.

She thought of Alistair. She pictured him and her memories of him in her mind, seeing his dark eyes and ready grin, his broad shoulders and the reddening of his ears when she said something that made him blush…and knew she still loved him. She had come too far not to see him and talk to him.

"I do wish it," she said to Zevran...and it was almost an apology.

He handed over her dagger and nodded, his face betraying nothing. "Then so it shall be."