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The next morning, while it was still dark, she returned to her room carrying an open package. After closing her door she immediately hung up the dress Alistair had given her before they'd finally gone to sleep. Made of fine linen, it was dyed a deep red and the bodice was woven with shiny white ribbon. She was generally uninterested in fashion, and Maker knew when she'd have occasion to wear it, but it was beautiful, no doubt about it.
With Alistair's arrival, their group coalesced over the next fortnight into a finely tuned fighting machine. It was good to have a second warrior with some leadership skills at the front of their party again. Mhairi had had to shoulder the burden for far too long.
Anders, especially, seemed to appreciate Alistair's presence. After all, he and Anja were most likely to be hurt if the group was overwhelmed. And Alistair seemed to appreciate Anders' abilities as well. At dinner one night he even compared Anders favorably to Wynne.
"That's high praise," Anders commented. "Not that I could stand being around her for more than five seconds. So school-marmy! But she's one of the Circle's best, I'll say that."
Later that night Alistair and Anja were talking in her room, as they sometimes did before sleep. Unfortunately Alistair was now lodging on the far side of the floor, and in an effort to keep the rumor mill to a dull roar they hadn't spent the night together nearly as often as she'd anticipated.
He was sitting on her bench, chin in hand. "So Anders seems like a good man," he said cautiously, giving her a surreptitious glance.
She smiled, trying not to feel self-conscious. "He is! Bit of a wag, but he means well. And as you've seen, he's very talented."
Alistair's eyes narrowed a bit. "Does he…have a thing for you?"
"Don't worry," she reassured him. "With Anders, a 'thing' truly doesn't mean a thing. He's a confirmed bachelor."
Alistair grunted. "That doesn't mean I like him making eyes at you every time I turn my head."
She felt heat rise in her face. Alistair had slept with two other women—at her behest, she could never forget that, but still! Here he was, getting annoyed over a bit of flirting. She felt her resentment start to boil over, and she knew it was time. "We need to talk," she said flatly.
"About what?"
"About us."
"Really? I was just going to ask you to have him tone it down a little. I like him, and he is talented. I don't want to lose it one day and find my hand around his throat."
Maker, sometimes he was so clueless.
She walked over to the bed and sat down on its edge, and patted the spot beside her.
"Uh oh," he said, rising reluctantly from the bench. "This can't be good." He approached the bed and sat beside her, and as the mattress sank under his weight she almost fell into him. He rested his hands on his thighs and fixed his gaze on the floor.
"You know I love you, right?" she began, looking sidelong at him.
"Of course I do! I have no reason to believe otherwise."
She paused, trying to think of a tactful way to say what she needed to say. "I need to tell you that I've been having some doubts about our relationship lately. And they aren't necessarily fair, but I just can't get them out of my head."
"What…what do you mean? What sort of doubts?" He sounded a bit panicky.
"I don't know if doubts is even the right word," she said with a sigh. "I've just been having these feelings."
"Please just spit it out," he urged. "You've got me really worried here."
"All right." She took a deep breath. "I think there are basically two things. First, you were never able to commit to a future with me. I know we've discussed it. And I told you how I admired your dedication to duty. And maybe I'm just some silly woman, or a hopeless romantic—I don't know. But it hurt. It still hurts. And nothing I can do can erase the idea that you would have just tossed me aside without so much as a harsh word to Eamon or anyone else."
"Anja, we've talked about this…"
"I know. Like I said, it isn't necessarily fair. But it's what I feel. It's what I still feel, after all this time, and I don't know how to stop feeling it. I never could have done that to you."
He looked forlorn. "Fair enough. That's the way you feel, and I can't go back and fix it. What else?"
The next part was going to be harder, because most of the blame lay with her. She hated to bring it up, but there was no longer any choice.
"I have these thoughts about you. Memories, images in my mind, of that night with Isabela. It isn't your fault, I know that. I talked you into it. I was testing you, to see how far you'd put yourself out for me. But you reacted differently than I expected. She reacted differently than I expected." She closed her eyes, remembering how singularly enthusiastic Isabela had been toward Alistair. "It made me jealous. I wonder sometimes if you're thinking of her, or fantasizing about that night."
He fidgeted with his hands, looking sheepish, then apologetic. "Anja…I can't lie. I'm a man. Of course I do." His voice was low and soft. "I've tried, and I can't get erase that night any more than you can. I'm sorry."
She nodded, accepting the sting, feeling her throat constrict. It was her own bloody fault.
"And then Morrigan…" her voice trailed off. "I know, I asked you to do that as well. And I'd do it again. There's no way it wasn't worth it. But it's in there, too. These things I imagine, things I can't stop thinking about. Dreaming about."
He nodded, covering his face briefly with his hands. "I'm sorry about that too. But in the end, I'm glad you asked me to do it. Twenty-five is too young to die."
She sighed. "I guess I feel that when I met you, we were equals. We were each other's first. Hell, I was the one having to chase you around, remember? And now I feel as if you've left me behind. I can't describe it. It just feels…unfair.
"So there it is," she said. "I've made my bed, and I have to lie in it. But lately I'm finding that bed more and more uncomfortable, and I don't know what to do about it. Like I said though, I do love you."
He looked stricken as he took her hand and rubbed her knuckles. "I'm so sorry," he offered. "We never talked about these things like we should have. I didn't realize you were feeling so…unappreciated. If that's the word."
She shrugged and nodded, trying to keep her lower lip from trembling as a tear slipped down her cheek. He reached up and brushed it away with his thumb.
And then an idea came to him. "Let me make it up to you, Anja," he said, and kissed her where the tear had fallen.
She nodded again, mutely.
He knew what he had to do.