Stupid Jowan. If he was going to do something so stupid, why couldn't he leave Neria out of it? Why did he have to go and put her in danger, too? How am I going to live here, for the rest of my life, without her? My thoughts spin uselessly around and around in my head like this for days. Even when I start becoming accustomed to Circle life without Neria and Jowan, sometimes the realisation hits me again out of nowhere, and I spend another ceiling staring at the bunk above me, or reading the same sentence in my book over and over again.

My tenth birthday comes and goes without much fanfare. If I was still at home in the alienage, Shianni would have acquired some ribbon or trinket for me, and Soris would have drunk too much on my behalf and sung happy birthday from the bridge. Uncle Cyrion would have sat in his big chair and told me stories about the Dalish and the elves of old. But they're all gone now, living in another world, the real world, not the world of the Circle.

Then, just when I think I'm starting to get used to this new normal, I get more bad news, and this time it feels like the whole tower has collapsed on top of me. At least a fortnight after the fact, the whole Circle begins buzzing with the news of the Battle of Ostagar. The Grey Wardens betrayed King Cailan, and he died, but so did all the Wardens. Teryn Loghain had to call a retreat with the Fereldan troops to try and recover, and Queen Anora, King Cailan's wife, is trying to maintain peace with the Fereldan nobles while grieving for her husband. All the Grey Wardens are dead. Neria is dead.

I cry for a long time, every day, until I have no energy left to cry. I go to classes, to mealtimes, to bed, and repeat. I don't want to talk, so I just let Orla and the others talk at me. This becomes the new, new normal. But something else feels different about the Circle, these last few weeks. At first, I thought it was because the way I saw the Circle had changed, which it has, but it's not just me. The templars are even more tense than they were before; the nice ones give short, clipped answers and apologetic smiles when approached and the not nice ones, well, I heard one of the enchanters got punched in the nose the other day.

Orla says it's because some of the fraternities have been arguing more openly against chantry policies than they have before; fraternities are groups of mages that think certain things about Circle matters, but I can't really be bothered trying to work out which ones like the chantry and which ones like the chantry but not the Circle, which one likes both the chantry and the Circle, and so on.

I'm interested most in the rumour Orla has for me right now, which is about Knight-Commander Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving.

"Ser Jaffer told Sister Hettie that Greagoir is deliberately trying to get rid of anyone who likes Irving, such as having your cousin join the Grey Wardens," she whispers.

"But Greagoir was against Neria joining the Grey Wardens."

"Well, I guess Jaffer doesn't know that. And it is weird that that Grey Warden—uh,"

"Duncan,"

"Duncan, was allowed to take Neria with him, when they didn't even know at the time if the Blight was actually happening."

"What I don't get is why Ser Jaffer thinks Irving would care that Neria left, she'd only just done her Harrowing."

"Well, because Neria was one of his favourites, obviously." That is news to me.

"How so?"

"The most talented apprentices are tutored in a small class by Irving himself, and because he hand-picks them, obviously they're his favourites."

"I had no idea."

"Well now you do. I think he makes them prepare specially for the Harrowing, so that they survive and the Circle doesn't lose its best potential mages."

"Where did you hear that?"

"I didn't, I thought of it myself. I do have my own thoughts, you know," Orla teases, elbowing me. "So watch out, because you'll probably end up being in Irving's class too."

"Because Neria is—was, my cousin?"

"Well, yeah, but also because you're good at magic."

"So are you!"

"But only because I work my butt off. The teacher gives us a new spell and you get it on the second try, it's not fair! Maker curse you and your talent," Orla pouts dramatically.

"Even if that was true, what's the point of being good at magic if we're stuck here?" I point out.

"Girls!" We both jump, startled. Miss Filia stands with her arms folded. "If you've quite finished talking each other's ears off, go and take your baths, please. We haven't got all evening."

Rats. I'll have to get more information out of Orla later, then.