Deathwish

A jug of wine flew at the wall. Dark red liquid splashed across the wallpaper like blood, dripping down onto the white satin bedsheets. The painting above Naishe's bed was now speckled all over with flecks of the stuff. The tussle between matador and bull now looked significantly more gruesome. Their dance was coming to a climax.

Throwing the jug hadn't satisfied Naishe. She wanted to tear this room apart inch by inch, but what good would it do? She was already doomed.

The Qunari. She was going to be taken to them. Join them. She might as well have stayed with her mother.

"Maker's balls…" What would Hari say when she saw her? Would she even recognised the pampered noble she'd become? Would she even still be there? Naishe knew the Qunari moved around a lot. Hari could be in Dairsmuid or Kont-arr or the Sundered bloody Sea for all she knew.

Naishe's eyes were still on the wine leaking down the wall.

No. She wouldn't go to the Qunari. She wouldn't. She'd run. Or she'd convince Hamaal to hex Luis. She started pacing.

A servant dressed as me could go to Rivain whilst I make my daring escape. Luis whacks his head very hard and miraculously forgets to send her away. A swarm of bees infest Rivain and kill all the Qunari.

The more ideas she conjured up, the more ridiculous they became.

"I could challenge Luis to a game of riddles and make 'How do I stop you sending me to a life of enslavement?' one of the questions…Shit." It was no use. Planning had never been Naishe's strong suit. Escaping capture on the other hand…She was a natural. The Rivaini wondered whether she should just take her chances and hope for a window when she could flee the horned bastards.

There was a muffled thunk of furniture being moved. Maybe Luis had been insulted by the grandfather clock ticking too loudly.

Naishe leant again her desk and sighed. "What would you do in my situation?"

The exquisitely inked face of a woman on all fours looked back at her. Judging from her expression, moaning was the answer.

Naishe decided she'd revisit this strategy at a later time.

Her anger had exhausted her of all energy. She flopped onto her bed, feeling the pillow grow damp beneath her.

She slept right through to the next afternoon. Perhaps her body had been trying to protect her from the harsh realities of her life and keep her in the blissful aethers of sleep.

A knock on the door woke her. A servant girl entered and curtseyed.

"Hey Jamila…" she said, sitting up and rubbing bleary-eyes. Now what…

Big blue eyes met hers. "Lord Mali-Kricco asked me to remind you of his nameday festivities this evening," she said politely. "He would like you to join him before sunset, wearing this." She was carrying a lace emerald dress. It was heavily corseted with several hoops in the skirt to make it splay out wide.

Naishe sighed. One last extravagance. Luis was going to make it count.

Before she dressed Naishe, Jamila ran a bath. She washed her hair as Clarissa had, making guilt and sadness overwhelm the Rivaini. She tried talking to her, but Naishe just stared at the water in silence.

Then it came time to dress. He was perhaps a little heavy-handed with his symbolism this time. When Naishe had managed to get the dress on, she could see that her chances of escape were dwindling fast. The corset was so tight that inhaling was near-impossible. The skirt of the dress was so thick that it weighed her down. Just walking around her room felt like a feat of excellence.

"Well, shit."

She was going to need to time her moment perfectly. Somehow get away from the guests, the guards and most importantly, Luis.

Jamila dabbed makeup onto her face that accentuated her eyelashes and lips, then helped the wheezing Rivaini out of the room and down the stairs.

It was about an hour before sunset, and the estate was heaving. Hundreds, maybe thousands of guests were clustered in the entrance hall of the estate and outside in the grounds. Naishe thanked Jamila for her help and squeezed her way through the crowd jostling in the entrance so she could get outside.

A marquee had been set up so the guests could enjoy the warm evening air. There was a table heavily stocked with every wine and whiskey under the sun. Once a jug was empty, Naishe watched as it miraculously refilled. She suspected Hamaal had cast a charm so Luis' guests would never be thirsty. A purple cake the size of a cartwheel was sitting on a table in the centre, thick with marzipan. There was a tiny silver bull rearing back on its hind legs in the middle surrounded by candles.

Some guests she recognised. Associates Luis had invited for dinner. Yves Montilyet trying to catch a peacock. Thir having an animated conversation with a group of stunningly gorgeous women. Even the mermaid from the wedding was here, although, Naishe noted, with a different lover dragging her tank. They gossiped and laughed and danced and drank. Under other circumstances, Naishe would have liked to join them, but she had too much on her mind.

She scanned her eyes around. She could see at the end of the path that guards were patting down guests as they arrived. A surprising number of daggers was amassing on a nearby table. Naishe wondered whether she could hide one under her dress, not that it would do her any good. She needed to escape, not arm herself.

She suddenly felt a hand on her arm and the familiar scent of bad breath.

"There you are."

Naishe looked stonily at Luis. "What?"

"Smile, my princess."

"Choke and die, husband."

"I would like it very much if you smiled for me."

"And I would like it very much to feed you nothing but hemp until you shit out a rope to hang yourself with," Naishe said coldly. "But we can't all get what we want."

"That's it," he said smugly. "Get it out your system. It'll be your last chance…"

Naishe was interrupted before she could respond.

"Ladies! Gentlemen! A moment if you would!" Luis called out gesturing for the guests to quieten. When they had hushed and all turned to face him, he continued. "I thank you all for coming here tonight. I am eternally humbled to see so many of you on my special day. I will not forget it." He paused so the crowd could applaud him. "What you may not know is that this is a farewell party of sorts. My darling wife, the exquisite crown jewel of Rivain. Naishe!"

The Rivaini stiffened and looked at the ground.

Luis lay a hand on her shoulder and ran his fingers through his goatee as though slightly troubled. "It is with a very heavy heart that I must tell you all that very soon Naishe will be sailing to Val Royeaux to stay indefinitely. Whilst it pains me to see her go, I am happy in the knowledge that she will be fulfilling her lifelong dream of modelling for the renowned artist Claude Delacroix."

There were a few murmurs suggesting that Luis' audience was impressed by the news but Naishe didn't notice. She was too busy gritting her teeth and clenching her fists. Surely someone would question Luis' story. They couldn't all just believe that he would happily ship out the woman he claimed to cherish more than anything in the world.

"Now I know that I am not alone in saying we will all miss her terribly. She has been the light of my life for over a year now, and delighted many of you in her company. But this is her decision and I will respect it."

Naishe wanted to wretch.

"So I ask you all to raise a glass to my beauty, my love, my princess, Naishe!" Luis thrust his goblet high into the air then drained it in one gulp.

The guests quickly did the same, all of them calling out Naishe's name with sycophantic fondness as though every one of them considered her to be a dear friend. The way they copied Luis so readily made Naishe suspect that this probably wasn't the first time they'd bid farewell to a Lady Mali-Kricco.

There was a loud burp from Claudio who was already stinking drunk.

Luis tossed his goblet aside and grabbed Naishe by the waist. He swept her quite literally off her feet so he could plant one last kiss on her lips whilst the crowd applauded.

Naishe let her body flop like that of a corpse. All she could do now was try to humiliate Luis as much as possible. As soon as she was upright, Luis strode purposefully into the crowd to speak to someone, leaving Naishe alone to be jostled and ignored by the uncaring guests. Her wedding day all over again.

She wormed her way over to the drinks table and poured herself a large glass of red. Might as well have one last taste of luxury. Afterwards, she started circling the party, trying to see if there was a spot where the guards were lacking. She'd been able to just walk out before after all. But it was no use. Luis must have hired extra swords for the party, because the grounds were crawling with guards.

"Is it a great tragedy to see you leave us so soon, Naishe."

The Rivaini looked up to see a heavily tanned Antivan man in maroon robes. He had the caddish smile of most Antivans and his eyes were mesmerizingly purple. Whilst striking, he wasn't familiar to her.

"Perhaps it is for the best. There are less people likely to sneak up on you sleeping and cut your throat in Orlais. They're far too preoccupied with which kirtle is in season."

"Right…" Based on everything she'd ever heard or read about Orlais, she wasn't sure throat slitting was off the table. But it had given her an idea. Cutthroats…

"Forgive me. The name's Tristán."

Naishe wasn't really listening. She cast her eyes around at the guests. Claudio was among them. So was one of the assassins who'd visited the estate previously. The Crows.

"Prince Tristán? Brother of Natale?"

"What?" Naishe said, a little restlessly.

He looked a little affronted at not being recognised and narrowed his eyes. "You must be devastated."

Naishe raised an eyebrow. "Should I?"

"About leaving your loving husband." Tristán looked a little suspicious now.

"Oh. That. Yes. I'm holding back my tears," she said flatly.

"I see…" he was clearly very disappointed by Lady Mali-Kricco, of whom he'd heard such raving endorsements. "So, tell me. Why Orlais?"

Naishe was too distracted looking for Luis. "Uh…you know. The painter guy."

"'The painter guy'."

"Yes. Good with…paints."

"Right." Tristán wasn't convinced. He took Naishe's arm and said, "Come. I would like to speak with your husband about this 'painter guy'."

Naishe tried to shrug him off, but she needn't have worried.

"Tristán! Is that you?"

They both turned to look. It was Thir.

"Yes it must be! I could never mistake those eyes." His cheeks were reddened with drink.

Naishe couldn't help but smile as he hobbled up to them.

"Ser Pluret is it?" Tristán said, rather unimpressed.

"Ahh you remember me. What has it been? Twenty-seven years?"

"Yes. I was told you were a friend of the family when I was a baby."

"Quite right, my boy. Quite right. You were no bigger than I am." Thir smiled and took a fistful of Tristán's robes. "Do come along! I would like to catch up. Did you ever get rid of those boils?"

Tristán was forced to release Naishe due to Thir's unexpected strength and was dragged away.

When Thir turned his head, Naishe could have sworn she saw him wink. It was all the encouragement she needed.

She started pushing herself through the crowd. Inspiration was blooming. Luis couldn't send her to Rivain if he was dead. The assassins themselves wouldn't do it, they were too close to Luis. Claudio was too loyal. But she could do it. It was extreme, but Naishe would do anything not to get sent to the Qunari. Even murder.

The familiar boom of Luis' voice was missing from the party now. Naishe looked everywhere, but he didn't seem to be drinking his body weight in wine or flirting with his guests. Not outside anyway. Naishe pulled an impossibly large woman aside and asked her if she'd seen Luis.

"Luis?"

"Yes." There was a pause. "The host?"

"Ah yes! Luis is a dear friend. Twelve years I've known him, don't you know. Twelve! I remember the days when he still wished to be a knight!"

"Yes but I was wondering if you had seen him recently? In the last thirty minutes?"

"Let me see…No no I shouldn't think so. We've been too busy talking to that Nevarran chap, haven't we Arnold?" The woman looked sideways at a raven perched on her shoulder.

It chirped half-heartedly.

"Quite right. Fascinating lad. Deaf you know. He makes a sinfully good mille-feuille."

Naishe was growing impatient, "So nothing since the speech?"

"Speech? Ah yes! Very touching. She's a fine girl. Nasheeta. Natasha."

Arnold chirped again.

"That's what I said." The woman patted the bird's head. "Have you met my husband?"

"…"

"Cursed by a witch you see. Changes form every quarter moon. Last time he was a frog! You can imagine the stares…Still, we're optimistic. I'm sure we'll find a cure soon."

If a raven could roll its eyes, it did then. Just as Naishe was about to give up and leave, Arnold chimed in again. His chirps were directed at her, but she didn't speak bird.

His wife nodded and said, "He says he saw Lord Mali-Kricco with someone earlier." She lowered her voice a little, "You know, knife-ears."

Naishe thanked Arnold for his help and walked away before that woman became her next target.

Knife-ears? This wasn't good. She worried that Luis might have taken Hamaal for some alone time again. The stress of drinking himself stupid and sentencing his wife to a life in the Qun must have gotten too much. She had to find him.

Despite it being a party to celebrate her, Naishe found it easy to make her way inside unnoticed. She hadn't realised how swelteringly hot it was outside until she was out of the sun. A sheen of sweat made the dress even more cumbersome. She took a moment to enjoy the coolness of the air before walking past the entrance through the foyer. It was empty. The only sounds came from outside. Naishe figured Luis' bedroom was her best bet. She climbed the stairs quickly and quietly.

Worried what she might find, and determined to 'deal' with Luis one way or another, Naishe picked up a candlestick from one of the end tables at the top of the stairs. When she reached Luis' bedroom door she leant her ear against it to listen. Nothing. Naishe slowly turned the handle and pushed open the door, fingers tightening on the candlestick. There was a clunk as the candlestick fell to the floor.

Zevran was stood there staring at the floor. His hands were dripping in blood.

When Naishe stepped into the room, she saw what was lying at Zevran's feet. Luis, on his back with blood oozing from his chest. His eyes were glazed over, staring blankly at the ceiling. His final expression was one of moderate surprise.

"What…"

Zevran's eyes darted at her. "Naishe, you shouldn't be here."

"Zevran. What have you done?" He tried to keep her from getting any further but she moved him aside and went over to Luis.

"Naishe-"

"You killed him." Looking down at the man on the floor, he was almost pitiful. Not the intimidating aristocrat he'd been less than an hour ago. Lord Mali-Kricco in all his glory, his blood soaking into the carpet.

"Naishe, please listen-" Zevran was eyeing her cautiously. He didn't expect what happened next.

Naishe threw her body against his until he slammed against the wall. Her lips crashed into his before he could utter a single word, an impressive feat considering her costume. Fierce yearning kisses filled with desire.

After a moment of surprise, Zevran responded in kind. He was barely able to keep up. Naishe's enthusiasm was so potent that Zevran struggled to breathe. After a few moments, he gently pushed her away, unsure whether a smile was strictly appropriate in the given situation.

"That wasn't what I expected."

Naishe grinned. "Let's just say I was following my instincts." Her hands started to trail down Zevran's doublet but he shook his head.

"We can indulge in your instincts later, yes? I must go. I suggest you do too."

Naishe nodded. Her mind was teeming with thoughts. She could go anywhere now. She wouldn't be sent to the Qunari. She was free.

Almost.

"Why did you do it?"

Zevran shook his head again. "Later. I'd rather not hang around."

Naishe looked at the corpse again and made up her mind.

"I'm coming with you."

"Naishe, you can't-"

"I know we can't…I know I can't go with you…" She paused for a moment, looking at her feet, then met his gaze once more, resolute. "Just get me out of here. You owe me that much."

"I owe you?"

"I mean," Naishe gestured to the corpse, "you did just murder my husband."

"Point taken." Zevran checked that he had all of his things then went to see if any eavesdroppers were looking in the hallway.

Naishe was about to follow, but she had to have one last look. She approached Luis' body again and crouched beside it. This would be the last time she saw those big hands and that terrible goatee. Those ogling black eyes, now just blank. There was a second where she almost pitied him. He who had taken her from her home and kept her like a necklace in a display case. He who had instilled so much fear and intimidation into the people around him. Lying there in his own blood, Luis looked like nothing more than a sad old man.

Naishe slid the ring off her left hand and placed it on Luis' motionless chest. Then she closed his eyes with her fingers so he couldn't look at her anymore.

"Zevran, let's go."