Chapter 14: Infidelity's Price
Gwaren
"The Queen sent me to find help; I never thought I'd find you," Aubrey said. Cailan had taken her to the empty stall in the inn's stable where he'd spent so much time talking strategy with Fergus and Jowan. The elf snuggled against his chest, one hand on his cheek caressing his beard. "I never dreamed I'd even see you again after what happened."
"Nor I you," Cailan murmured, stroking her long red hair. They lay like that in the straw in silence for a long while. He felt her heart beat, felt her breath. When he looked down at her he saw tears rolling down her pale cheeks. "Please, don't cry; this isn't the time for tears," he told her, dropping a kiss atop her head. He ignored any conflict he felt. He was so grateful now to have someone familiar with him that he didn't want to complicate it.
"I just held to the memory of that night before you left," she said. "Not… the actual act," she said quickly. "But the way you held me after, and just being near you. Being there for you."
"I've thought of that often too," he assured her. But those memories, too, were clouded with the regret that he hadn't been able to spend his last night in Denerim with Anora. He cared about Aubrey in a way that Anora would never understand, and in a way that he sometimes had trouble understanding himself. While he'd been with many other women throughout his life, somehow he always went back to Aubrey whenever Anora was unwilling. "What news from the queen?" he asked.
Aubrey's news of Loghain's new reign was unsurprising. Angering, but not surprising especially after what he'd picked up on the docks. "The queen misses you," Aubrey added in a quiet voice, tilting her head up and meeting his eyes. He looked away, but a gentle finger on his chin forced him to look back at her. "For what it's worth she does love you, and she regrets that it was not her that last night."
"Please, Aubrey," he said, an ache twisting in his chest. "We shouldn't…"
"But we should," she said. "I know what my place has been all these years, and I know that she is your wife. I told her this, and I will tell you, too: I respect her, and it was my respect for her, and not just how I felt about you that made me come here."
"Did you see to your family before you left?" he asked.
This time she looked away, and he felt her stiffen slightly. "I tried, but the Alienage had been locked down on the Teyrn's orders. I can only hope they'll forgive me."
"They will," he said, recalling how his tokens of affection to Aubrey had often gone to help her father and brother. He didn't know if she'd ever kept anything he'd given her; he suspected that some things had been traded at the market for food or clothing, and he couldn't fault her for it. "Come. I've taken rooms here, and my friends will be back from guard duty soon. Your news can help us plan what to do once we reach Denerim."
"You mean to go back?"
Cailan nodded. "Not just go back. Go back and reclaim my throne."
The inn was bustling that night, mostly with the crew of the ship, so it was easy for Cailan's men to slide in. Fergus brought Viviane down from her room, where she'd retired after a lengthy day gathering herbs and leaves on the edge of the forest for the town apothecary. Her light eyes narrowed when she saw Cailan sitting in the corner with Aubrey, his arm protectively folded around the elf's narrow shoulders, but she said nothing. Fergus too seemed suspicious, but he gave his friend and king the benefit of the doubt.
There was enough noise to cover their conversation. First Cailan introduced Aubrey; most of the men nodded greetings. Jowan shook his head at Cailan with a warning glint in his eye: he had heard of the spectacular reunion kiss on the docks and would not use blood magic to make any witnesses forget. Fergus remained silent, face blank. He'd never condoned Cailan's infidelity to Anora, but he'd never lectured him on it, either.
"The ship will return to Denerim before the week is out with as many able soldiers as Gwaren can spare," Aubrey said, clutching at one of Cailan's hands under the table for support.
"They can't spare any," Ser Alaric finally said. "If Loghain takes the men, he leaves the village completely undefended. "Denerim probably only still stands because of the walls keeping the darkspawn out."
"And the refugees," Ser Ryder interjected.
"Gwaren was holding its own even before we arrived," Fergus pointed out. "What if we were the soldiers they spared for Loghain's purposes?"
"Fight for him? Never!" Gareth snapped, his dark eyes brooding and intense.
"You're right," Cailan told the knight. "We won't. But he doesn't know that yet, nor do the people he's sent here with the orders to conscript soldiers. If we left with the ship the village wouldn't be any worse off than they were before we came."
"It's a good strategy, and one I'd be happy to help with," Jowan said, leveling his stare at Cailan. His implication meant more to Cailan than anyone else present could understand.
"That would work for your band of soldiers," Viviane said at last. "But I am not exactly an able bodied man ready to fight for Ferelden."
"You've come this far with us," Fergus said. "We need you. Things are bound to get messy, and Jowan's no healer. No offense," he added with a glance at Jowan, who shrugged; it was the truth, after all. "Besides, you wouldn't be the only female anymore," he added, nudging her shoulder and smiling. Aubrey flashed a tentative smile as well, but Viviane did not grin back.
"Very well," she said. "Though I was finding it nice to be useful to the people here."
"When you leave, you'll leave behind two able-bodied donkeys that will assist the people with the spring planting or the lumbering," Fergus told her. "You will leave a legacy."
They retreated to their rooms, which had expanded from the original two to nearly the whole second floor. Again, the innkeeper didn't ask questions, so long as there was coin flowing across his palm. By default Aubrey headed toward Viviane's room, but Cailan grabbed her arm. "I'd like it if you shared my quarters this evening," he murmured. Though they'd shared rooms and beds and even hallway corners before, asking her when there was no threat of being discovered made him shy.
Aubrey hesitated only a moment before she followed him. The room was small with a cloudy window that overlooked that back alley. A couple candles lent more shadows to the room than actual light. The bed sagged some, and was barely big enough for Cailan, but he pulled Aubrey down on top of him anyway and stared up into her green eyes while the candlelight flickered on her face. He cupped one hand on the back of her head and kissed her, long and deep. This time she didn't hesitate, and kissed him back. But she pulled back suddenly, giggling.
"You should shave your beard if we're to properly enjoy this," she told him.
"And ruin my clever disguise? Never," he said with a roguish grin and flipped her over so he was now atop her. "I think it makes me look more manly."
"You never needed to look manlier," she told him. Her fingers played with the hem of his simple spun shirt. She pushed it up over his abdomen, and if the horrible scars of his nearly deadly injury appalled her, she did not indicate so. She pushed it up further, and he obliged her and took it off. Then he did the same with her shirt.
She pulled his head close to her and kissed him. "I want you … Cailan," she said.
The sound of his name on her lips, without the word 'king' before it, drove him mad. They'd made love many times before; Aubrey had been his first. But nothing compared to this night, when she wasn't a servant and he wasn't a king: they were just a man and a woman joined together.
When she released him he gasped for breath and tried to keep himself from collapsing on her, completely spent both physically and emotionally. "I love you," he murmured in a voice as shaky as the rest of him.
She ran her fingers through his sweaty hair. "No you don't," she said, but her voice was soft and tender. He tried to protest but it was her turn to silence him with a finger to his lips. "Enjoy this for what it is," she said and stroked his cheek.
He rested his head on the pillow. Though she'd bathed, her hair still held the scent of the sea. Lying next to her, smelling the salt of the ocean, she was freedom incarnate.
At some point he must have dozed and she must have got up to put out the candles, because the room was dark. Aubrey slept next to him, her lithe elvish form pressed into his body beneath the blankets. He tucked a lock of long red hair behind her long, delicate pointed ear. "No matter what you say, I do love you," he whispered. She didn't stir.
The ship was scheduled to return to Denerim the day after the next, sooner than Cailan or Fergus thought. "Desperation has forced the Regent to demand haste," the captain explained when Cailan inquired about the departure.
Cailan spent the rest of the day in the inn, inventorying their goods and seeing what could be spared, and what was needed. Viviane helped him, though she kept glancing at Aubrey, who sat in a corner of Viviane's room watching them. "Each of the men will need at least one weapon," she said, surveying the array of swords on the bed. "Even you." She nudged the one greatsword off to the side for Cailan. "Armor. Those doing guard duty have what they'll need; the rest we can sell, or just leave here. We need to travel light," she reminded Cailan. "If we go with too much they'll get suspicious. We're supposed to be soldiers marching… well, sailing to our deaths," she said. Her nonchalance was disconcerting but she was back to sorting through their gear.
"Then we'll have to do without this," he said, pointing to the vellum-wrapped package he'd brought with him from Ostagar. When she gave him a questioning look he opened it to reveal the heavy purple velvet robes of ceremony. "I wore these for my coronation," he said. "And my father for his." He stroked the soft velvet.
Aubrey got up and joined him on one side, with Viviane standing on the other. "It's a shame," she said, one hand on his arm.
"No it isn't," Viviane snapped. "Because you're not leaving them. If the whole point of this has been to return you to your regal seat, then you'll need to look the part."
Cailan smiled in spite of himself. "You're always telling me that, it seems," he told the Chasind woman.
She sniffed. "Someone needs to tell you the truth around here."
Viviane went back to the sorting, and then left to put together an herbalist's kit at the apothecary. Cailan was ready to take advantage of the moment alone with Aubrey when Jowan came in. "Sorry to interrupt," the mage said. "I know what that can be like," he added, probably to be conspiratorial and joking, but Cailan remembered what had happened to his clandestine love. "Teyrn Fergus has convinced the guards that Gwaren will be better served with them remaining and us going. He's very persuasive."
"His father was one of the best diplomats Ferelden had," Cailan said quietly. "I was going to hire on Bryce Cousland as my advisor when this was all over."
"Well, I think you'd have your pick of people to choose as advisors now," Jowan pointed out. "Loghain's not going to remain in his position for very long." His voice had gone grim, and his eyes were hard. "If I have to feed him to a demon myself I will."
"Hopefully it won't come down to that, exactly," Cailan said, knowing how Jowan worked to remain free of demons, in spite of his increased use of blood magic. "Even if you can help us a little bit with what you are able to do, that will be enough."
He avoided Aubrey's questioning eyes. "Viviane saved an armor set and weapon for you," he said instead. "It will help us get to Denerim."
"What about my staff?"
"Terrible fall you had out of the hayloft," Cailan said with a wink. "The bone never did set quite right. Good thing you have a walking stick."
Jowan laughed. "You're pretty strategic yourself."
Viviane had set aside Ryder's two daggers in the discard pile, but Aubrey picked one up. "The Chasind girl and I should have something, even if it's small," she said. Though she didn't have a sheath she slipped the blade through her belt and untucked her shirt so it covered most of the weapon.
In the end the unneeded weapons were simply donated to the Gwaren guards, who weren't happy about being left alone again after all the help Fergus and the others had given. But they gladly accepted the additional weaponry and bid them all farewell. They slipped out of the inn before the sun rose on the day of the departure, leaving a leather pouch of coins on the bar with a quickly scrawled note of thanks for the long-term hospitality. Cailan promised himself that he would see Gwaren well-rewarded once he'd taken his throne again. It wasn't their fault, after all, that Loghain had been set as their Teyrn.
The sun rose, pink and gold peeking through the cloud cover on the horizon as they made their way through the mists and down to the docks. Cailan glanced at the hill where the manor house sat. When he'd arrived here a month ago Cailan had hoped to take the manor and stage his own rebellion. But things had played out quite differently, and he hadn't even set foot in the building. In fact, after that first week of uncertainty he'd sort of forgotten about it. And he didn't even miss it. Now he set his sights on the palace, hundreds of miles away.
"The Teyrn sent for Gwaren soldiers," the ship's captain said when they assembled on the dock, all openly bearing weapons.
"The men left here to defend the village wouldn't last a day against the Blight, even if they survive the sea voyage," Fergus said. He'd sort of taken on a leader role, which kept attention off of Cailan. "Teyrn Loghain sent for soldiers from Gwaren. We're soldiers and we'll be coming from Gwaren. I don't see the problem." He leveled his hazel gaze on the captain, who looked them all over. He stopped on Viviane and Aubrey and started to protest, but Fergus stopped him. "The Chasind is an able healer; we heard about the fall of the Circle, which means the armies will be low on healer mages, and won't have any reserves."
His eyes narrowed. "I don't know where you get your information from, but your logic is sound. Get aboard."
They filed up the gangplank, their gear clanking as they went. Aubrey went between Cailan and Fergus, but the captain stopped them. "The elf got any special talents?"
Cailan met the man's eyes. "It's a long voyage north," he said with a wink. He felt horrible saying it, but if it got them all aboard he would do what it took. He also removed a few coins he had left and handed them over. "She'll earn her keep by us, and this should help you," he added and pressed forward before the captain could say anything.
Amaranthine Ocean
Gareth and Alaric took to the voyage well, and spent a great deal of time on deck helping with the sails. "Alaric's father was a fisher on Lake Calenhad," Eben explained as Cailan watched the knight hoist the sails like a professional. "Alaric trained as a knight, but helped his father out when we had breaks; not that we had many, but the few we did, you'd see him on a boat in the middle of the lake."
"What happened to his father?" Cailan asked.
"Killed by the first wave of undead from the castle."
He watched Alaric savoring the sea breeze and thought it might be a sort of homecoming for him. "Well, I'm glad someone is enjoying himself here," he said and descended below decks before the salt air nauseated him.
The stuffiness below wasn't much better, but Viviane was down there, and she had blended a few different herbs that could keep the seasickness at bay. Aubrey had taken a liberal dose and drowsed on her pallet in the corner; the customary hammock, she said, only made her sicker. "May I?" he asked Viviane, pointing to the pot where she kept the mixture. Viviane only nodded. "Aren't you cooped up down here?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "But it's better than being up there. The emptiness of the ocean is disconcerting. I'm from the forests of the Korcari Wilds. I'm used to trees. On the ocean there is nothing."
"I understand," Cailan said, thinking of his father, somewhere under the vast green-gray emptiness between Denerim and Kirkwall. Maybe. There was no body; no body meant no proof. And seeing the open ocean, touching the sky with nothing to mar the horizon, scared him more than he'd thought it would. "Let me know if there's anything I can do," he said. "And thank you for this."
Most of the days passed the same. There was no telling just how long the journey would take; much depended on the condition of the ocean and how favorable the winds were. Winter was underway, and while that meant the winds would be good, it also meant more likelihood of storms. Cailan knew that it only took one good tempest and he wouldn't have to worry about Loghain or darkspawn.
The quarters were close, and while most of them could avoid being too close during the days, all were below decks at night. Cailan found himself drawn more and more to Aubrey's pallet in the corner. They didn't make love, though the temptation was certainly there. Cailan wondered if this was how Jowan felt being called and tempted by demons regularly. The feeling of Aubrey's lithe body against his every night, not just when they could steal away from their duties, was more than he'd dared to hope for at any other time in his life.
"They estimate a week from Denerim if the weather holds. And it looks like it may," Alaric said one morning that dawned, as usual, gray and dismal from both the winter and the Blight. But the news was bright and raised Cailan's spirits.
Until one of the unpredictable winter storms that marked the ocean east of Ferelden did show on the horizon. The captain adjusted the ship's course, but the clouds were faster. "Storms like this showed up on Lake Calenhad all the time, mostly in the summer," Alaric reassured them. "Storms would come down out of the Frostbacks. Boats that weren't ready for it would capsize," he said. "But we see this coming, and the captain is seasoned," he added. "Though… you may wish to go below." He grinned at Cailan, and it was clear that he planned to stay on deck and weather the coming storm.
Cailan sent Viviane and Aubrey below. "Can you do anything?" he murmured to Jowan. The mage shook his head, his dark locks falling into his eyes. He pushed them away irritably and clutched his "walking stick" tightly. He was frustrated by his own lack of power over nature, something Cailan could understand well. "Go below; stay safe," he said.
The clouds rolled in, preceded by the icy wind from the southwest. Cailan looked about for some rope or rigging or something to do, but found nothing. All he could do was grasp the railing as the chill spray leapt up into his face and the wind blew his hair back from his face and tears leaked from his eyes. This may have been like the storm that sent his father below the waves. And Maric may have stared it down just like this.
Someone was shaking his shoulder. "We need to get below," Fergus shouted over the rising gale.
"I'm staying," Cailan snapped. It was a great surprise when Fergus grabbed one arm and twisted it up behind his back, slamming him down on the railing. Cailan stared at the iron-gray waves and blinked rapidly when salt water splashed into his eyes and stung. Fergus held him there, forcing him to look into the choppy waters.
"Want to end up like your father?" Fergus said in his ear, letting go of his arm and stepping back. "Ferelden needs you, and you can't be there if you get washed overboard by rogue waves."
The comment about his father stung worse than the salt water to the eyes, but Cailan's resolve faltered and he followed Fergus below, rubbing his arm. He knew Fergus would have broken it if he had to; and after nearly being crushed to death by an ogre, Cailan would have been embarrassed to have a bone broken by Fergus Cousland of all people.
Below decks the roar of the ocean seemed within touching distance. The little cargo there was had been lashed down for just such an occasion, but with every rock of the ship it strained against its bindings. Cailan turned and headed for his corner pallet, but Fergus grabbed him again and guided him to the portion of the hold he'd taken—across the ship from where Cailan stayed. "We need to talk, and I'm sorry this is the only time and place that can happen," he said in a low voice. He sat on the floor, leaning against the wall of the hull.
"So you're not content just to manhandle me?" he asked, still stinging from the comment about his father.
"You're like a brother to me Cailan," Fergus said. "Even more now that we've both survived this long. I know you're enjoying some freedoms you've never had before, what with being raised in the palace and under all that scrutiny."
"You said you wouldn't lecture me," Cailan said.
"I did, but I also wouldn't say this if I didn't think you needed to hear it," Fergus said. "Everything we've done so far has been to done with the endgame of getting you back on the throne." Cailan nodded. "Have you thought about what's going to happen when you get back to Denerim?"
"What do you mean?"
"We'll come up with an entry strategy and pull it off," Fergus said. "I'm not worried about that; we did a stellar job with Gwaren, and I think we'll pull off Denerim just as well. I'm talking about Aubrey." Cailan stiffened. "I've seen the way you look at her and heard you talk to her. I know she means something to you. But have you thought maybe you're getting too close?"
The ship creaked under the duress of the storm. Cailan wasn't sure what would break first: him or the ship. "Forgive me, Fergus, if the first familiar person I've seen in months happened to cross our path."
"And then you spent every waking moment with her after that path-crossing?" Fergus asked. "All I'm saying is you need to be careful. You're not just going back to your throne. You're also going back to your queen. Your wife."
"You think I don't know that?"
"I think you need a reminder of that," Fergus said. "You're lucky you have a wife to go home to," he added in a softer voice. "I only say this because the two of you will only hurt each other if you let this go any further."
"I appreciate your concern," Cailan said, the words hollow and perfunctory. He got up, no small feat the way the ship tossed on the storm swells, and left Fergus sitting, watching Cailan with troubled eyes.
Cailan avoided Fergus quite well over the next few days, no small feat on board ship of this size, so it meant Fergus was avoiding him, too. He was furious with Fergus, but also with himself because he knew Fergus was right. But it had felt so good to have a couple weeks where he didn't have to hide what he felt, and where he could be relatively open with his feelings. It felt comfortable going to bed with Aubrey in his arms, without looking to see if Anora was around first, or going to her when Anora refused his advances. And even if they did little more than kiss, it was as intimate as any lovemaking they shared.
A couple days later there came the call that land had been sighted, and Cailan climbed up on deck to see Denerim on the horizon. His heart leaped in his chest with longing for home; it had been months since he'd been there, and now with it so close he realized how much he missed it. But a separate pang stabbed at him when he glimpsed Fergus standing nearby..
Ferelden would expect him to go back to his queen. They would expect the joint rule and would not take kindly to the elven mistress. And after a free and open relationship over the past couple weeks, he knew he couldn't just ask Aubrey to go back to being his bathing attendant and occasional mistress. Nor could he ask Ferelden to accept him divorcing Anora for an elven serving girl. It would have been hard enough to ask them to accept him divorcing Anora for another royal. He hoped that Fianna hadn't read his letters from Celene of Orlais yet; while he trusted her, as Fergus's sister and a Grey Warden, she was still a noble, and from what he'd heard from Fergus, she was as sly as any of them no matter her reputation.
"Ser?" Cailan looked over to see Ryder standing at his elbow. "We should meet below and discuss strategy."
"Sailing into port isn't good enough?" Cailan asked with a grin.
"Well, we can do that. But we'll probably have to find a way to nicely tell the army officers waiting for us that at least a dozen men are deserting."
In the end Jowan confessed his use of blood magic to the assembled group. Several men scrambled back away from him, but Jowan took it in stride and shrugged. "I've been a blood mage since you all took me from Redcliffe," he said. "I've never used it on anyone here, and haven't made any deals with demons. None of you doubted my loyalty to you before this; I don't see how knowing what I am changes it."
But with that said, Jowan also offered to assist their desertion the best he could. "I can do the mist thing, especially since we'll be on the docks. That can cover a few of you. The hardest part will be getting you two past the guards," Jowan said, looking at Cailan and Fergus. "I want us to try and avoid fighting, if possible."
"For a mage you're good at this," Ryder piped up, the first of the Redcliffe group not to be frightened by Jowan's darker talents.
"We'll be pulling in at night, so that helps," Eben said. "Darkness and mist will cover us. Viviane and the elf girl can probably move most silently and get out. And a few of us can create distractions if we need to, if it means getting Your Majesty and Your Grace past safely."
It was Cailan and Fergus's turn to blush, but the closer they got to Denerim they both had to remember who they were. The group disbanded to gather their few belongings. "Where will we make for?" Cailan asked Fergus suddenly, the first words he'd directly spoken to him since they'd argued days ago.
"Unless there's news of Fi and Alistair, or Howe's there, I suggest the Highever estate," Fergus said with a shrug. "It's as good a place as any." Cailan nodded agreement.
Night fell and the ship steered into port. The air smelled of rotted fish and stagnant water. Alaric came below deck with the news that several men, all wearing the Gwaren heraldry, were waiting. That was Jowan's cue to go on deck.
"You trust him not to do blood magic?" Fergus asked.
"Yes," Cailan said. "Unless I ask him. He's used it a few times when I asked, but never on his own."
Fergus didn't seem pleased with this, but left it alone. Cailan put an arm around Aubrey's shoulders as she stood next to him. His heart pounded when he felt the ship bump against the pilings. They climbed out one by one, Ser Ryder first, then Ser Brandt, then Fergus and Viviane, and Cailan and Aubrey; the others brought up the rear. With the unnatural fog, and the sound of weapons clanging against armor, Cailan had a hard time feeling like he was home.
Viviane's pale hair and skin helped her blend into the mist, and she slipped away down the docks. She'd never been to Denerim before, and Cailan only hoped she would remember Fergus's directions to her. Alaric disappeared into the mists next while the guards called to one another, confused. Jowan limped down the gangplank, the mist thicker about him. He waited at the end of a dock, then crouched behind barrels when he didn't think anyone was looking.
Cailan nudged Aubrey to move and slide away while she could, but she shook her head and nodded toward two guards blocking the dock Viviane had escaped down.
"Names and papers," one of the men said. Even though it was evening, even though he'd probably been working at this all day, he sounded awake, if cranky.
"I have it somewhere…" Ryder paused to dig in his pack.
"Oh hurry up will you?" Eben snapped.
"Quit your whining; I had to listen to it all the way from Gwaren!" And then Ryder threw a punch at Eben's face.
The fighting and the fog caused an uproar. The docks were filled with shouting, and the others were able to scatter. Cailan followed Fergus, tugging Aubrey along by the hand.
"Hey! You'll not abandon the Regent's service!" yelled one of the guards. There was the sound of a sword being drawn, and still Cailan ran on, clutching Aubrey's hand. Fergus yelled behind him and metal on metal sparked in the fog.
"Run for the Highever estate," Cailan ordered Aubrey, and turned to aid Fergus.
Jowan's spell began to wear off, and Cailan could see better. There were overturned barrels everywhere; one body lay on the docks, and Cailan hoped it was a Gwaren soldier and not another of theirs. Fergus had disarmed the man who'd attacked him, and drove him back toward the water's edge. He held his sword to the man's nose. "I am Fergus Cousland, Teyrn of Highever. I serve the crown of Ferelden and will neither yield to Loghain nor bow to him." In that moment he was more regal than Cailan had ever been during his reign. "Send word to your false king that the Teyrn of Highever has returned."
The man was stunned and backed down. The other one caught sight of Cailan, however, standing just a few paces away. "He's no Teyrn," he said. "He was on the soldier ship, so he's a soldier, far as I'm concerned." Cailan backed away and fumbled for his greatsword, sheathed on his back. The weapon was great on a battlefield, but ill-suited to combat in close quarters. In the end he turned and ran.
"Shoot him down!" someone yelled. "If he won't serve the Regent he's not fit to live!"
A crossbow cocked; then there was the twang, and the bolt whistles through the air and he knew he had squandered his second chance at saving Ferelden.
But the piercing bolt never came. A strangled yelp sounded and he looked around wildly to see Aubrey on the ground, the crossbow bolt protruding from her throat. Blood stained the ground and soaked her long hair. Her skin was grayish already, and she was struggling to get the few bubbling breaths past the bolt in her neck.
Dimly he heard Fergus swear and draw his sword again, and clash with the others. Jowan joined in, throwing fireballs. Eben and Ryder scattered. But none of that mattered.
Cailan sank to his knees and took Aubrey in his arms, heedless of the blood that soaked into his own shirt. "Aubrey, hang on," he murmured, rocking her. "Jowan might be able to do… something… anything." Healing wasn't the mage's forte, but he had to know some. And then they could get her to Viviane and… She was shaking her head as well as she could, her glassy green eyes staring up into his blue gaze. "Aubrey, don't," he said. "You can't. I… I order it," he said, a desperate last effort to prolong her life.
She managed a smile. "Cailan," she croaked past the bolt. "I… think… I do love you after all." The effort was too much, and made more blood bubble out through her wound. She struggled to breathe and her lips took on a bluish hue.
Cailan stroked her hair and bowed his head over her form, and held her hand tightly with his other hand. Her labored breaths grew more and more shallow; the sticky hot blood stopped flowing. He realized he couldn't feel her heart beating beneath his hand anymore. Her eyes were wide, staring ahead at nothing.
"Maker's balls, Cailan!" Fergus yelled, startling him. He looked up at the angry Teyrn of Highever. "Way to keep us hanging," he said.
"You won, didn't you?" he asked dully.
"Only because Jowan gave in and used his blood magic to kill off the remaining men!"
As if on cue Jowan approached, the sleeves of his robes soaked in his own blood. But he didn't seem as angry as Fergus. "Is she gone?" he asked quietly, and Cailan nodded. Jowan looked around, then between Fergus and Cailan. "We need to get out of here. If Loghain and his men were expecting more soldiers on this ship, and none show up, then they'll come looking."
Fergus stalked ahead of them both, leading the way. Cailan carried Aubrey's bloody body; he'd managed to pull out the bolt first, and then closed her eyes. If he ignored the blood, he could almost believe she was only sleeping.
"We could have gotten killed," Fergus said when they approached the gates of the Highever estate, having traversed alleys and little used paths in an effort to avoid the night watch.
"But we didn't," Cailan said.
"But we could have. If she'd run when she was supposed to…"
"She saved his life," Jowan pointed out. "Isn't that what all this is about? Keeping him alive so he can be king again?"
They were quiet as Fergus took out the Cousland signet ring and pressed it to the indentation in the gate. "Look at the bright side," Cailan said suddenly, and the other two stopped and looked at him. "At least now I don't have to choose. Because she chose for me."
He pushed past Fergus into the front courtyard, then carried Aubrey along the side paths toward the back of the house. The gardens were overgrown, long neglected with no seneschal to look after them. But to Cailan, home in Denerim at last, they were the most beautiful gardens he could ever remember seeing. There was still some water in the fountain, and he wet a rag from his pack and started washing the blood off of Aubrey. Each time he wiped over the ticklish spot near her collarbone he expected her eyelids to flutter, or for a giggle to escape her.
He sat long into the chill night holding the limp body and asking himself just how many people had to die for him. And more importantly, how many people he cared about did he have to lose?
