Know that before you even begin reading that I don't know a lick of French and typed what I wanted into Google translator. If you're offended, I'm sorry. If you'd like to fix it, be my guest! All in all I just hope you enjoy the next installment of Identity Theft. Please read and review!

Chapter 10

"So how long have you been able to…you know?"

Varric made an offhand gesture in my general direction. I glanced up with a raised eyebrow from the smoldering fire where a dented pan was precariously balanced on top. It held a long, metal needle that Varric brought back from town at my request. Sitting next to my crossed legs was a vial of dark ink that would serve as the visual anchor for the runes I was about to permanently etch into my palm.

"Do a backflip? Walk on my hands? Curl my tongue? Whistle? Or light people on fire with a snap of my fingers? Cause I can do all of those."

"I'm interested in seeing you doing the second one, but let's elaborate on that last bit."

I turned over the needle with a scrap of cloth to make sure every inch of it was sterilized; I took a deep breath before I began my story.

"Since I was five," I answered his question. "I sneezed one day and the couch caught on fire."

Varric chuckled. "Are you serious?"

"You can't make this shit up," I said dryly and recalled that interesting day all those years ago. "Anyway, it got worse. I panicked. I ran and got a bucket of water to put out the now sizable fire hazard the room had become, but I sneezed again. This time the water in the bucket turned to ice so when I went to throw it, it rebounded and hit me in the eye. By this time I was beginning to hate magic," I drawled over the dwarf's guffaws at my pathetic attempts.

"This story really doesn't need any of my…embellishments."

I shook my head. "It more than meets your standards." The thin needle radiated red at its edges. It was ready. There were four runes I had to fix and I would be too exhausted to fend off any threats. Gingerly, I picked up the needle and dipped it into the open bottle of ink with my left hand. "Are you sure you want to stay for this? It's not going to be pretty."

Varric settled himself more comfortably against the cave wall with his hands behind his head. "I've got nowhere to be at the moment."

It was three days before I was healthy enough to return to Kirkwall, shiny new runes hidden beneath gloves that Varric bought for me when he made his daily visits to check up on me. Worse than a mother hen he was, but I appreciated it. The first time he came back to the cave on the Wounded Coast he stashed me in, Varric was complaining bitterly about the log books we managed to recover from the hands of the Evet's Marauders. Apparently their bookkeeper was Orlesian and wrote everything in their native language which Varric couldn't understand a damn bit of.

I decided to take a crack at it armed with my paltry years of French my mother and father shoved down my throat when I was younger. Of course, I hadn't spoken a lick of it in about fifteen years, but it was just like riding a bike, right? Between bouts of consciousness while magical runes were carved around my scarred palm, healed courtesy from one of Anders's elfroot potions Varric managed to nick from his clinic, I studied the foreign tome. Apart from a few phrases I recognized I came to the conclusion that French was a stupid language and I cursed in frustration at their apparent need to have five hundred vowels in each word.

With the un-deciphered book underneath my arm, I pushed open the door to the Hanged Man and already felt my mouth water for anticipation of a stiff drink or it could have been the rotting rat smell. I hadn't bathed in three days, my arm still shook once in a while, and I had bags the size of nugs underneath my eyes from lack of restful sleep, but I would be damned if I didn't get a small buzz before heading back to Hawke Manor. Mother was going to give me an earful for not coming home and I would rather be a little tipsy for that lecture.

"Hawke, there you are! Come on over here and join us!" Varric called over from his usual table near the back of the tavern.

I heaved a tired sigh but shouldered my way past the drunkards who must have had an early start to be this far gone at seven in the evening. When I finally cleared through the crowd I noticed that when Varric meant 'we', he actually meant nearly everyone I knew. Anders raised his cup, most likely filled with water due to Justice's growing influence, towards me and smiled. Isabella did the same but winked provocatively at me. Aveline was most likely doing her rounds as guard-captain and Merrill sat innocently in a chair while puzzling over the card game her and Isabella were attempting to play. I would have to warn the younger girl about the pirate queen's tendency to stow away cards in her cleavage to be used later for a winning hand. Taking up the last seat was Fenris who made to stand up and leave the Hanged Man mid-conversation with Varric.

I wasn't ready to deal with this kind of bullshit after three days spent in a haze of pain. Before the swordsman could completely get out of his seat, I walked up behind him and shoved him back in it without a word and sat down next to Fenris. He stared at me with those kicked puppy eyes the elf swore he didn't have, but relented to my need to play nice and stayed seated. I nodded to him in greeting and dropped the log book I studied for the past few days on a rare clean spot on the table.

I turned to Varric. "Order me a tankard of whatever you're having and put it on your tab. You owe me for this headache you've dumped in my lap."

The dwarf chuckled. "Sure thing, Hawke. Corff! A drink for my friend over here!" He yelled across the room while holding up his cup.

Anders raised an eyebrow at the thick, yellowing pages of the tome. "A little light reading?"

I groaned while opening up the book to where I left off before I made the long trek back to Kirkwall. "Surprised that I can read, Anders?"

"I'm completely dumbfoun- is that in Orlesian? You can understand that jumble of letters?" He began sarcastically but tapered off into surprise once he realized what language the writing was in.

"Not very well," I admitted. "I haven't studied it in a while, so it's slow work. It also doesn't help that this idiot wrote in code and doesn't mention anyone by name. I mean 'deux chevras et une pomme,' two goats and an apple? What does that mean?" I whined childishly and propped my cheek on my hand and took a drink from the swill that Corff dropped off at my elbow. The stuff made my eyes water. Corff must have opened the good stuff.

"You find something about Bartrand?"

"When I come across anything about a lyrium humping bilge rat I'll let you know, Varric," I mumbled offhandedly into my tankard.

"He might be listed under motherless nug-licker," Varric chimed in helpfully.

"Ah. I'll be sure to double-check that."

"You know multiple languages?" Anders asked as I set down my mug. I looked up to nod affirmatively.

"Eh, I can read and write bits and pieces of about five different languages."

I was met with stunned silence. Curiously, I looked around the table to see all my companions staring at me. "What?" I asked. "If my father knew I was reading then I would be too busy to cause trouble outside."

"So you weren't exaggerating when you said you were a troublemaking child."

"Not even a little bit of embellishment," I confirmed Anders' comment.

"I find intelligent men incredibly sexy."

"You think men with two arms to be sexy, Rivaini."

Isabella shrugged at Varric's comment. "True," she quipped and turned her attention back to me. "So where've you been, stranger? I haven't seen you around for a few days."

Varric took a large gulp of his drink and set it down after a loud belch. "I told you, Rivaini, rescuing damsels in distress. Isn't that what all heroes do in their spare time?"

"Is this before or after he arm wrestled demonic pirates?"

"Obviously after. He had to beat them at their own game before he could claim his prize."

Isabella and Varric continued to embellish their ridiculous story and I ignored them in favor of trudging through a few more sentences of obnoxious code words before I headed home. My right arm decided to shake a bit as it had the habit to do after my adventure on the Wounded Coast. As subtly as I could I rode out the waves of spasms by holding onto my tankard tightly and I quietly wiped away the spots of ale that spilled from my drink after it calmed down. I looked up from the table to see Anders narrowing his eyes at me in deep thought. Damn, he probably saw that and would ask questions about it.

Quickly, I stood up from the table and waved off the round of protests that came at my obvious intent to leave.

"But you just got here, Hawke," Merrill said with a handful of cards that were half exposed to Isabella who sat across from her.

"I've been too busy playing hero the past few days to get some proper rest. I'll meet up with you all later to play Diamondback. We still on for that, Varric?"

"Every Thursday," he answered.

"Right. I'll see you all then."

Scooping up the log book, I danced around the crowd until I breathed the fresher air of Lowtown. I took a deep lungful of air that smelled less of piss and vomit and took a moment to lean against the wall of the Hanged Man. I rolled my shoulder to rid it of the tension that built up. For all my attempts at avoiding Anders asking questions about my injury I would most likely have to go visit the Healer. My sizzling light show a few days ago probably caused deep tissue damage if elfroot potions weren't potent enough to heal my arm, but I couldn't skulk through Darktown to see Anders without a good excuse since I couldn't obviously say I stuck my finger in an electrical socket. Although I had done that before. I was a curious kid.

I decided to put off that lecture from mother until tomorrow and spent the rest of the night wandering around Kirkwall while thinking of the future and how fast it was approaching.

I opened the unlocked door of Hawke Manor and was thankful to not see Bodahn milling about or any other members of the household this late at night. Quietly, I closed the door and turned around with a yawn which turned into an unmanly squeak when I saw Fenris step out of the shadows of the entryway.

"I wanted to apologize," he said before I could get a word out. I tried to calm my rapidly beating heart.

"For what? Giving me a heart-attack? Damn it, Fenris, what are you doing here?" I harshly scolded underneath my breath.

Uncharacteristically of the fearless swordsman, he tilted his head to stare at the floor. "I wanted to apologize," he repeated. "Your mother was kind enough to let me wait inside for you."

My hand dropped from my chest where I had gripped it in an automatic reaction and stepped over Varric's log book I dropped when Fenris scared the ever-living shit out of me.

"Couldn't this have waited until morning?"

Fenris didn't look up from the fascinating tile floors that must have been cold on his bare feet. "I…I have been thinking of what happened with Hadriana. You did not deserve my anger and I owe you an apology."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Nearly a month later?"

Fenris sighed and finally looked up. "I did not think you wanted to see me. Varric suggested to me to let you cool off for a bit and I was admittedly not…eager for this conversation."

I had a feeling this was going to last a while longer and I didn't want to have this standing up after the long day I had. I motioned Fenris inside the foyer with a careless sweep of my hand and coaxed the smoldering fire back to life with the poker. The warmth of the flames felt good on my face. Fenris still stood awkwardly when I turned around again and politely refused my invitation to sit. Shrugging my shoulders, I took the chair from the desk still piled high with unopened letters and turned it around to prop my arms up on its back.

"Apologies are never easy otherwise how would the tragic love stories Varric likes so much happen?"

Fenris chuckled softly. "They are unreasonably difficult."

"So what happened that day?" I asked although I already knew his suffering under Hadriana through Garrett Hawke's memories, but Fenris needed to get out this confession. It would help him heal. "You nearly took my head off."

The swordsman winced and scratched absently at his chin with the claws of his gauntlet. I felt my own hand twinge at the sight of those talons. It took a moment, but Fenris finally let out a deep breath and began to pace.

"When I was still a slave, Hadriana was a torment. She would ridicule me, deny my meals, and hound my sleep. Because of her status, I was powerless to respond." He stopped his hectic pacing and turned back to me with a sneer. "And she knew it. She knew that I could not raise a hand against her. When I saw her for the first time in three years I could not bear the thought of her slipping out of my grasp. I wanted to let her go, wanted her to know the feeling of being hunted as I did, but I couldn't." He breathed deeply. "I couldn't."

The only sound in the room for a moment was the crackling of the fire and if an elf's ears were as good as they said I bet he could hear my teeth grinding in frustration.

"There is a difference in couldn't and wouldn't, Fenris. You decided the moment you heard about Hadriana that you were going to kill her. Don't try to dress up murder."

Fenris snarled and stomped over to the chair I was gripping tightly. He bent down until his head was level with mine and he growled hoarsely. "And what would you have me do, Hawke? Hadriana came after me! I have never had the option to simply walk away!"

I pushed myself off of the chair and winced as it crashed to the floor. I hoped it didn't wake anyone up. "There's always an option," I said while jabbing my finger into Fenris's chest. His growling grew like a rabid dog's. His lyrium markings glowed angrily. "I've killed many men in my life, but I've never lied to myself about it. You killed her because you wanted to, Fenris."

He smacked my fingers away. "Yes, fine! The thought of letting her go never crossed my mind, but what was I supposed to do? Am I supposed to forgive, no matter how many times they hunt me down? Am I supposed to forget all the things they've done to me?"

"You gave your word, Fenris. You promised her that you would let her go."

"Then you tell me what I was to do. She would have gone on to torturing more slaves, killing innocent people, and you question my decision to remove filth like that from this earth?"

"You gave your word!"

"I gave her nothing!" He roared and I didn't care anymore if the whole manor woke up. Fenris had managed again to lite my fuse. It seemed he was the only one that could.

I yelled back. "You gave her everything! I don't give a damn if you killed her or not! Hell, I would've killed the bitch myself! But you gave your word!"

"Why are you so obsessed? Why do you care whether or not I lied to extract information from her harpy like lips!"

"I care because it's sometimes all you have left!" The truth exploded from me in one last breathless yell and my chest heaved from our heated argument. But I wasn't done. "You may not wear chains anymore, but you're still a slave!"

Wrath came at me hotter than a dragon's breath and I felt the punch to my face before I saw it. It glanced off my cheek, but it was a powerful blow that knocked me back a few steps with my hand cradling my scratched cheek from his sharp gauntlet. Fenris stood with his arm still extended. His breath came in short pants as if he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. Green eyes blazed. Silver hair stuck to a slick brow.

"You know nothing of being a slave," Fenris snarled.

My hand dropped from my face where it clenched at my side. My voice was quieter now, my anger spent. I felt the past few days crash on top of me and the wave of tiredness almost dragged me under its dark surface.

"I know the feeling of being powerless," I began slowly, quietly. "I know the fear of not being able to see tomorrow's sunrise. I know what it feels like to be thrown away, forgotten like garbage. Don't tell me I know nothing, Fenris because I know more than you think."

He blinked a few times in confusion until the red haze of rage dissolved from his eyes. I could see when he came back to reason for he looked at his fist with my blood spattered on the very tips of his gauntlet and cringed. He looked at me with desperate eyes.

"Hawke, I-I…" he trailed off not knowing what to say.

I held up a hand.

"No apologies. Just hold still for a second."

I evened the score by giving Fenris a matching shiner on his left cheek. It wasn't a strong knock to the elf's face, but enough for me to feel like I leveled the playing field between us.

"There," I said satisfactorily as I pulled my fist back. "Now we're even."

He gaped at me in shock until he saw my smile and open hand meant for him to shake. Fenris hesitated for a moment before grasping it tightly in his own.

I held onto the swordsman's hand as I spoke. "We may not agree on everything, Fenris, but that doesn't mean I don't count you as a friend and as such I will look out for you. I want to see you free, Fenris, from your master and your hatred."

He unclasped my hand to stare at it as if it held all the secrets to the universe. "This hate," he uttered, "I thought I'd gotten away from it, but it festers inside of me like a dark growth that I can't ever get rid of."

"Let me help you," I told him sincerely.

Fenris turned away. "I don't know if you can," he said as he walked out the door and into the brisk chill of the early morning.

"But I will," I whispered into the empty room.

I woke to the sound of banging that I wasn't sure emitted from my head or somewhere from within the mansion. Varric's log book slipped from my chest to the floor that only added to the forsaken pounding. After Fenris left in a hurry last night, or I should say early in the morning, I hadn't the strength to make it up the stairs to my room and instead collapsed on the bench located in the entryway of the manor while trying to read the Orlesian code by the light of the dying fire. Now I deeply regretted my bout of laziness as my back popped obscenely as I stood up to stretch. My neck sounded even worse. Whoever was pounding on my door this early was really going to regret that poor decision. I ran a hand absentmindedly through my tangled excuse of hair and wrenched open the front door with a scowl on my face.

"What?" I snarled.

"Hawke, are you just now getting up? It's the middle of the afternoon for the Maker's sake," I was chided by blonde hair and a bleary vision of feathers.

Really, it was that late? And nobody woke me up? Huh. Where were Bodahn and Sandal? What day was it? Wednesday? Must be shopping say then. Or I fell asleep in someone else's mansion. Wouldn't be too surprised at the last one.

I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand and blinked a few times before a scolding Anders appeared clearly before me. I almost closed the door in his face, but my mother instilled some kind of manners into me so I left the door open and walked back into the mansion with my arms stretched high above me in order to pop them. My tunic rode up my stomach enough for me to feel the breeze of the shutting door. I felt my shoulders give a satisfying crack; I sighed in relief.

Anders cleared his throat behind me. "Rough night?" He asked.

I turned around after I felt limber enough to greet the new –mid- day. "You could say that," I quipped.

"Andraste's sword what happened to your face, Hawke?"

I was confused at first until Anders gently prodded my swollen cheek that made me hiss in displeasure. Oh, right. Fenris and I had gotten into a little pissing match that ended with souvenirs.

"Ow, ow, ow," I whined as the Healer continued to examine my injury.

"Nothing broken," Anders muttered. "Someone just knocked you pretty good. I can heal that real quick."

Childishly, I batted the man's hand away. "Don't worry 'bout it. 'm fine," I barely managed to say through a strong yawn. I winced as it pulled my cheek.

Anders glared. "Don't be such an infant, Hawke. It's nothing," he asserted and reached for my face again.

I took a step back with my arms raised to ward him off.

"If it's nothing, then you don't need to heal it. Really, forget about it and save your energy for people who, I don't know, are missing a leg or something. I'll live."

For a second, it looked like Anders was willing to tackle me to the ground and forcefully take care of my bruised cheek, but relented.

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth.

Anders looked around the manor for a moment while absentmindedly tapping the end of his staff on the floor. Warily, I lowered my arms. It looked like he would let this thing go.

"So, how did you manage to injure yourself not hours after I saw you last night?"

Or not.

I scoffed in annoyance while rolling my eyes. "It's a talent of mine. You hungry?" I asked in a rapid change of subject, hoping the Healer would drop it.

It worked when his interrogating look turned to one of surprise. "I-I had lunch not too long ago," he managed to get out.

I ignored his assertion that he already ate and headed into the kitchen to see if Orana stored away any leftovers as she liked to do once she discovered that I couldn't stop myself from snacking during the day. On the counter was a loaf of bread with only a slice missing as well as a hunk of freshly made cheese. Greedily, I scooped up my find into the crook of my arm along with a knife. There were also a few yellow apples, barely wrinkled, so I added those to my pile before I entered the foyer again where Anders still stood awkwardly. I tossed him the piece of fruit and Anders barely managed to catch it before it bounced off the floor. He turned it over in his hands then looked up at me in confusion.

I took a nice chunk out of the sweet apple before answering and pointed at him. "I doubt you've even eaten breakfast. You've lost weight, Anders," I took a page from his mother-hen routine and chided him. "Orana forbids me from using the stove but I managed to find some bread and cheese so today we shall feast like kings," I said while holding up my prize.

He didn't smile at my teasing like I expected him to and instead worried at a knot in his staff. "You noticed?"

Rolling my eyes, I took another gaping bite from my rapidly disappearing breakfast/lunch. "I do have eyes, you know. I've also noticed Seneschal Bran pay visits to the Blooming Rose, Corff sometimes skims off the tops of ales before he brings them out, there's a special on adequacy boosters at that questionable stall in Lowtown that I can never quite make myself stop at because of the owner with the lazy eye, and if you squint and turn your head a bit while covering up the lower part of the Hawke coat-of-arms it kinda looks like-."

"Alright, alright, Hawke. You notice more than your stomach, I get it," Anders admitted with a sigh of mock-exasperation, but that smile on his face made one appear on mine in reaction. He looked years younger when he smiled, I also noticed.

I claimed victory when the ex-Grey Warden took a small bite of the apple that quickly became a bigger one when he tasted its sweetness. I tossed the nibbled down core into the bin Orana put next to my desk and started on my juggling act of slicing cheese and bread at the same time without dropping either. This would probably be easier if I sat on the floor. Somehow I succeeded on not dropping everything so I offered Anders the first slice and shoved the next one into my mouth.

"So why'd you come here?" I asked around my mouthful as I settled down as comfortably as I could on the chilly floor. Anders followed me.

"Hawke, that's disgusting. Chew first," he told me with a grimace.

I swear I did more eye-rolling than a teenager when Anders was around, but I agreed to chew then swallow my food before repeating my question.

"I was taking a walk and I was in the neighborhood so I dropped by," he offered as an explanation.

I didn't buy that for a second. Anders took the second slice of bread with cheese when I offered and I took a half-slice for myself.

"All the way from Darktown to Hightown?" I asked disbelievingly. "That's quite a stroll. Wanna try for a more believable excuse?"

His cheeks flushed at being caught in his obvious lie, but quickly covered it up with a leering smirk that had me raising an eyebrow in caution. "Maybe I just wanted to see you," he purred.

It took a lot of effort to not stutter in my drawled response. "Not buyin' that either. Hawke: two, Anders: zero." The hell kind of personality turn-around was that?

"Fine," he admitted with a dramatized pout. "I came to ask a favor."

I nodded. "Now the world makes sense again." I cut up another piece to give to Anders. He snatched it up. I knew I was right. The man most likely had skipped more than two meals and healing took a lot out of a person so I didn't understand how Anders was still able to walk around without collapsing. Cutting up the rest of the bread and cheese and balancing them on my upturned thigh I thought of places Orana would squirrel away food that I could wrap up and give to Anders. "How can I help?"

Polishing off his latest slice, Anders patted his robes a few times before digging into a pocket of his tattered beige robe. He pulled out a folded piece of parchment – the same color as the dreaded letters piled on my desk – and handed it to me.

Before taking it, I warned him. "If this is an invitation to another stupid ball, I'm going to make you eat that piece of paper."

Hi lips quirked and he shook his head. "I'm sure I would make quite an impression if I showed up to one of those noble's parties smelling like the sewers."

I shrugged as I traded the letter for a piece of bread. "If you brushed your hair, I'm sure you'd fit right in. They all make my nose cringe with all those perfumes, scented soaps, and they wear enough flowers to make me sneeze."

"Not one for parties I take it?"

"If mother makes me go to another one, I'll set their house on fire," I deadpanned.

"They can't be that bad," he said humorously, clearly not knowing the horror it truly was.

Straightening my back, I pitched my voice a few octaves higher. "Oh, Serah Hawke it's so lovely to see you again. You make my heart flutter quicker than a bumblebee's wings with those manly muscles and eyes bluer than my daddy's sapphire ring. Come let us dance until we're nauseous from all the needless spins and twirls while I make inappropriate advances on your person." I pouted as Anders exploded into laughter. "It's not funny! I am a person, not an object!" This only served to make him laugh louder. I pretended to be offended a little while longer if only to hear the usual serious man have fun every now and then.

Anders wiped tears from crinkled eyes and I unfolded the parchment.

Greetings,

I hope this letter finds you well. I've often thought of you in these past three years. Without your kindness, my Feynriel would have been long-since sold to slavers. Instead, he has thrived and begun to master his magic. But now his nightmares have caught up with him, and neither the Keeper nor the first enchanter know how to help. I don't know where else to turn. I have heard of your kind words you've written my son through Feynriel's letters and desperately ask for your help.

Please, come to my home in the alienage. I will be waiting to speak with you. Thank you again for the compassion you have shown Feynriel in the past.

Sincerely yours,
Arianni

I reread it silently a couple more times before I looked up at Anders.

"You've kept up with the boy since he's been in the Circle?"

Anders nodded. "I wanted to make sure he would settle in all right. The Circle can be a very lonely place despite all the people in it. Feynriel's written that the Templars continuously threaten to destroy his mind in fear of his growing powers. I know what it's like," he said quietly, "and I thought it would help if he had a sympathetic ear."

"Ah," was all I said while I tried to recall why this letter jumped out at me so vividly in my mind. Why was this picking at me so…oh…oh shit that's right.

I groaned in protest while rocking on my heels. This was when Garrett and his party dipped into the Fade to try and pull Feynriel out of his dreams. Garrett hadn't succeeded and was forced to kill the boy in his dreamscape which made him Tranquil outside the Fade. I was dreading this for two reasons: one, I wasn't sure it was a brilliant idea to take my fresh new runes out for a test drive in the highly unstable world of the Fade where demons and spirits roamed, and two, saving Feynriel might not be a possibility.

"So, will you come with me to meet his mother? See if we can try and help the boy?"

Sighing, I stood up and brushed off crumbs that collected on my trousers which was a lost endeavor due to them being buried in four days' worth of grime. I crinkled my nose in disgust once I realized that stale smell hanging in the air was actually me.

"Mind if I change first?" I asked while picking curiously at my tunic that seemed to almost stick to my dirt smudged skin.

"I was beginning to wonder when you'd notice you smell like eau of cheese." Anders said cheekily. I rolled my eyes at him and started up the stairs to my room. "Take your time, Hawke," he called up after me as he stood up as well. "The Keeper hasn't arrived yet."

That made me pause mid-step and turn around. "The Keeper? You called the Keeper?"

At lease Anders had the sensibility to nervously tap the end of his staff on the floor. Its metal cap struck the stone tonelessly.

"Well, Arianni did after I told her that I would gladly help earlier this morning," he cautiously admitted to me.

"You knew that I would help?"

Twirling his staff which I recognized as his nervous habit, Anders shrugged. "No, not really. I hoped that you would, but I was prepared to go alone if you didn't."

This was like pulling teeth. "Anders, I'm going to go upstairs and pick out clothes that don't smell like garbage and then you're going to tell me exactly what's going on with Feynriel," I explained slowly as if speaking to a child.

"You're not going to like it," the mage muttered underneath his breath.

I was pretty damn sure that I wasn't.