A/N: This chapter is NSFW. Also, thank you, as always, to creepypasta-queen- for beta reading 3 And thank you to everyone who reads and comments!
...-...
"Korth's teeth, Cole!" Katrina exclaimed as she stepped into her room—the one filled with books—and nearly walked into the odd young man. He didn't move from his spot, instead blinking owlishly at her. While she liked him alright, his appearances could be a little disconcerting.
Especially lately.
She almost felt like he'd been avoiding her, though that made not a lick of sense.
Memories of yelling at someone about leaving mountains be tried to bubble up, and she shifted her weight. She had promised someone—a friend of Cole's—that she would bring justice to the Comte, and yet it had already been done. Perhaps they were angry that they had offered her their aid when it wasn't to any actual end?
"No."
"What?"
"I'm not mad at you," Cole replied simply. "You don't hurt like you used to, so you don't need so much help." At that, he lifted his arms just slightly. Half a dozen books were rather sloppily gathered within them, and two were precariously close to tipping out of his grasp and plummeting to the floor.
She grabbed those first, stacking them neatly in her own arms. It took her another moment and a few blinks from her Godly helper before it dawned on her what these were. "You got the journals from Morrigan?"
"Yes."
It had been two days since she had asked him to do that, and she'd honestly forgotten about it almost completely. She had been preoccupied with catching up with Amelia and Zevran, and trying to make sure to tell them everything. Cullen had suggested they not go wandering all about the hold for now, which made sense to Katrina, and so they'd mostly stayed in the guest housing.
Cullen had been busy with Garrett and Fenris, as well, so she hadn't seen much of him, not even at night. Amelia had all but demanded that Katrina stay with her, and she'd acquiesced her demands, just glad to be near her dear sister after so long. Of everyone in the world, Amelia was possibly the only person she'd ever conceded almost every point, fight, and demand to.
"It made sense then; there was no one else who ever saw a reason to stand with you, so you stood with her," Cole murmured, shifting the last few books in his arms into a more manageable stack and then leading Katrina out into the hall.
Katrina frowned as she followed the God. "That's not true. I've had plenty of people in my corner. Zevran, for instance. And there were others."
Dear, dear Zevran. Years ago, Katrina had been foolish enough to go out drinking with an acquaintance at one of the less reputable establishments in Starkhaven. As the evening progressed, her friend had found a lady to take home and had left her there, by herself, barely seventeen. When a few unscrupulous individuals had started to eye her, she'd decided it was time to head home.
However, said not-so-gentle-men had followed her.
In no time, she'd been running through the streets, terrified. Finally, she'd tried to hide in an alley to escape them. It was a good plan in theory, except that as drunk as she was, she hadn't been the subtlest of creatures when she'd turned off the main road. Even as they'd come for her, she'd stumbled back into groping arms. Terrified, she'd shoved the newest assailant away from her and into something sharp.
That something turned out to be held by a groggy, concussed Zevran, who—despite his cumbersome headache and the way the world kept tilting one way and then the other—had proved more than capable of handling her would be assaulters.
When the dust had settled, he'd turned around, offered her a flourished bow, and kissed her hand. "Tell me. What is so lovely a lady doing out here in such a…" His concussion had kept him from finishing his flirt, and his legs had given out from under him, sending him plummeting to the ground and into Katrina's arms.
Katrina had helped him to the nearest Chantry, where she'd insisted he was a bodyguard when the Sisters gave him suspicious looks.
She'd come back to see him the next day to find that he'd left when the Sisters weren't paying attention. It had been appalling how little the Sisters had cared that he was missing.
The next time she'd seen him had been in her room, almost two weeks later. He'd come by to offer his thanks and warn her that there was talk of a hit on her father. Nothing concrete yet, of course. She'd warned Gregory of some rumor against their father, and it had been taken care of before the target was ever drawn on his back.
From there, they'd had an odd friendship. Whenever he was in town, she'd let him crash in her room, and they would spend the night regaling one another with tales of idiocy and adventure. He'd freely admitted that he was a Crow. He was always just vague enough with the details that she couldn't be sure if he was making it up or if some bizarre turn of events that he had described had actually happened.
The fact that she'd slowed a target and actually shoved the man onto one of Zevran's daggers when the assassin had been too injured to chase him down properly did seem to lend credit to his other stories. He had an odd sort of luck about him.
Or perhaps just a God watching over him.
"Passing friends and blessed acceptance. So why do I still hear, 'What if? What if?'"
"Fair enough," Katrina muttered when Cole pointed out that aside from Zevran, most of her friendships had been fleeting or under constant suspicion.
So she hadn't exactly trusted most of her friends. It wasn't that she thought they'd necessarily turn on her. It was just that many of them had found interest in her because she was nobility, and she wasn't always sure if they would have tolerated her antics if she had lacked that precious, noble blood.
Save for Zevran. He'd learned of her nobility later and had been more than amused to have met her as he had.
She was glad that he was here now.
Cole had stopped in the hall, watching her expectantly—or perhaps he was just content to listen in on her thoughts and amble through the memories of a world foreign to him—and he was blocking the way out of Cullen's home.
Katrina had been planning to gather more of the journals that they'd been ignoring for the past few months—there were a decent number of them, to be honest, possibly even more journals details dealings with nobles than with the Avvar—so that they could keep their momentum going in figuring out who the noble moving against the Avvar might be.
As she'd suspected, Amelia knew almost every noble involved thus far—and Zevran knew of many that she didn't, as he'd been sent to assassinate a dozen or so of their family members throughout the years. Neither had read far into the journals so far, instead mapping out which nobles were being blackmailed and then writing down possible enemies that the group might have in common. Slowly, their lists were getting smaller.
Morrigan was quite impressed.
She had deemed Amelia worthy of idle conversation already, as well.
Katrina wasn't sure why that bothered her as much as it did. At least Morrigan held the same disinterest she afforded Katrina for Zevran. It left her and her elven companion to gossip idly in one corner in Antivan. Granted, Amelia could understand what they were saying, and constantly interrupted their quips with stern glares, or simply walked over and plopped down next to Katrina just to be near her.
She didn't mind the latter, though it did make it harder to make disparaging remarks about anyone when Amelia was right there, ready to chastise her.
She'd missed her sister's nagging, truth be told.
Even as Cole finally turned and started toward the entrance to Cullen's home, the door swung open, and Cullen swept in. Sweat glistened on his bare skin, and his curls were damp and clinging to him as well. His gaze snapped up when he realized he wasn't alone. He perked up when he saw Katrina, though Cole interrupted whatever he was going to say by handing him the rest of the books.
"Here."
And then the God was gone again.
The two of them stood a little awkwardly, their arms full. Finally, Cullen turned back toward the door, nodding with his head. "Did you need these taken back to the guest housing?"
"Ah, no." Katrina took a tentative step toward him, shifting her books so that she had a free hand to reach toward him. "These are…" Should she tell him that Morrigan had been hiding them? If there was nothing too dire in them, then it made no sense for her to start a witch hunt over them. "I thought I could read a few with you?"
"Katrina…" Cullen's brow furrowed. She felt stupid. Of course he couldn't read the damned books. Why had she even…? "You can keep them in my room." He said abruptly, walking toward the back of his home. He brushed close enough to her that their arms just barely brushed against one another's.
Before Katrina knew what she was doing, she'd followed him back to his room. Cullen set the books aside on a small chest he kept his clothes in. Katrina had barely set her own stack beside his when his arms were around her, lifting her off the ground as his lips crashed against hers.
She reacted in kind, arms wrapping around his neck and legs around his waist as she pulled herself closer to him. Katrina tilted her head, molding her lips to his every kiss. One of his hands slid down to grip her rear and pull her closer still.
She didn't even realize he'd been pulling her clothes off until she was lying naked on the bed, with him on top of her. The stubble on his jaw scraped against her neck as he kissed and nipped her skin. She let out a low moan, her legs squeezing around his waist. He was already hard, and his length pressed against her stomach, stirring a warmth inside of her.
While they were hardly always gentle with one another, today felt different. There was a neediness to his touch, to the way he held her and kissed her, as though he was afraid he might forget the feel of her against him.
His need was infectious, and quickly, Katrina found herself gripping him with that same desperation. Her fingers raked over his skin, leaving marks, and she rocked her hips against him in time with his own rutting.
"I want you," he managed to whisper, his voice huskier than usual. He crushed his mouth against hers, their teeth clacking together.
When they pulled apart for breath, she couldn't find her voice. Instead, she caught his face in her hands and simply nodded to him, her hair already in wild tangles across the bed around them. She dragged him back to her as he grinned.
When he found she was already wet in anticipation, he used one hand to angle himself and then thrust into her. She let out a cry, her nails digging deeper into his skin. He panted against her neck, thrusting again and again. She met him with a sharp rock of her hips, their rhythm coming together, primal and fierce.
He met her cries and gasps with moans and growls of his own. When he finally brought her over the edge, her world enveloped in brilliant white, and she arched into him.
He followed soon after. When they were both spent, he lay on top of her, one hand clasping hers, fingers laced and palms pressed against one another. The other was still fisted in his bedsheets. He loosened his grip slowly as their breathing evened out. Finally, he pressed a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth and then pushed himself up so that he could lay beside her.
Stretching, Katrina rolled onto her stomach, reaching up and tugging a pillow down so that she could rest against it.
Cullen ran his hand down her back, and she shivered at his touch. It was too 'hot' for them to be intertwined, and so they simply lay beside one another, enjoying each other's presence. He trailed light patterns across her, eyes closed. She reached out and ran her fingers across his cheek. He playfully nipped one of her fingers when she drew her hand away.
"I don't know if I can let you go back to the Lowlands," he whispered.
Katrina shifted a little closer to him. "Oh?"
"I can barely make it two days without you. How will I survive months?"
She smiled against her pillow, pulling her hand away to tuck it underneath the fabric. While he might complain it was too hot, she was just fine. She lightly waved her feet through the air above her, surprised at how his admission had sent butterflies flitting about in her stomach.
At length, his hand slid across her back and then he was resting on top of her, kissing her shoulders and neck. "Do you need to go back to the Lowlands? Amelia is clearly in no danger."
"I haven't even told you, have I?" Katrina asked, abruptly remembering that she really hadn't seen much of him these last two days. "The Comte de Forseau is dead."
Cullen stilled. His next kiss was more fervent.
Katrina had been planning how to explain what they had found thus far to him when his ministrations became considerably more affectionate. Her mind blanked as little trills of pleasure washed through her.
However, when his hand slid down her side, over her hip and then started to dip between her legs, she forced herself to concentrate, reaching down and stopping him before he could shatter her thought process for the next hour. "Cullen, the noble after the Avvar is entangled with… they're trying to get the Orlesian military to move against the clans near Orlais. We think."
Cullen withdrew at that, sitting up on his bed and running his hand through his hair. He looked like he needed his afternoon rest, despite having been apparently ready to forgo it in favor of sex. "Do you know who it is yet?"
"No, that's what we've been working on." Katrina perked up. She sat up beside him, resting her hand on top of his. He flipped his hand so that he could hold hers as she kept talking. "Amelia knows nobility like no one else, I swear. She's working out who could be plotting like this, via which people are their enemies. It does mean we have to look through the journals we were going to ignore, though."
Cullen watched her, expression reserved.
Leaning over, she lightly bit his shoulder. "It might take a few weeks, is what I'm saying."
"I see," Cullen murmured, though he did loop his arm around her and drag her closer, his lips skimming her collarbone. "And those books we brought in here are a part of that?"
"Ah, no—" Katrina's voice cut off as a light moan escaped her. "They're…" His hands were on her hips, thumbs gently rubbing circles against her skin. She took in a breath, trying to concentrate. She'd wanted to say this tactfully. His lips wandered lower to her breasts. Her breath hitched, and she let out a soft cry. There was a reason she'd wanted to be reserved about what those journals were, though she couldn't remember for the life of her why that mattered. "Those are the journals that deal with the Lions and Wolves."
Abruptly he was sitting up again, much to her chagrin. His brow furrowed as he turned back toward those six journals. "Those detail what's happened with the Lions?" He hesitated. "You mean they have done things to my clan?"
"I don't exactly know yet," Katrina confessed, clarity hitting her rather hard. She shouldn't have brought it up when she wasn't sure. "I haven't read them."
"Then how would you know…" Cullen turned back toward her and then paused. "Cole found them for you?"
"Yes."
"Did he say where he got them?" Cullen sounded more irritated that angry. Before Katrina could offer that technically the God hadn't said anything to that end—especially considering she'd been the one to tell him where to get them from—Cullen shook his head. "I've been wondering why you hadn't found anything about our clan. I was hoping that we just hadn't been involved in any of this…but I had a feeling we wouldn't be so fortunate."
"Well, maybe they're mostly about the Wolves. Like I said, I haven't read them yet."
"Why wouldn't you want to bring them to the others?" Cullen paused, eyes narrowing. "Was Morrigan hiding these?"
"Cole didn't say where he got them from," Katrina defended, though she couldn't quite place why. It wasn't as though Morrigan had ever impressed her much, but then, she still didn't deserve to get strung up for no reason, as Rosalie's warning had implied to be a real possibility.
The look Cullen gave her said he was clearly not falling for whatever ruse she was trying to pull. He reached up and ran his hand against her neck, cradling the back of her head. "You will get to these soon?"
"I can start tonight," Katrina promised, catching his other hand and lacing their fingers so that their palms pressed against each other.
"If you can make it away from your sister," Cullen muttered.
At that, Katrina arched her eyebrows. "I haven't seen Amelia in…forever, Cullen. Surely you can understand why I would want to be around her."
He groaned, wrapping his arms around her and then flopping back down onto the bed, dragging her down with him. "I did not mean anything by it."
Katrina tried to bite the giggle that rose in her throat as a thought abruptly struck her. "Are you jealous?"
"What?" Cullen leaned back, appraising her with a frown in place. "Don't be ridiculous."
Her eyes widened, and she lightly thwacked his arm. "You are! You're jealous of my damned sister!" Even as he tried to protest, she snuggled closer to him, kissing him. His protests died as he met her kisses with that same fervor from earlier, rolling her onto her back and shifting so that he rested between her legs. She couldn't help but laugh when they broke apart. She ran her fingers through his hair. "You don't need to be, you know. She may want to ship me back to Starkhaven, but that won't be happening."
"You could have told me she was your twin," he mumbled as he nestled his face against the crook of her neck.
"I did so mention that," Katrina cried out, trying to twist so that she could see his face.
He kept his head tucked down, though she could feel his smile. "You didn't. You just said she was your sister. My heart almost stopped when I saw her."
"What? No," Katrina gasped, wrapping her arms tightly around him. "I'm quite sure I told you."
"I'm quite sure you didn't," he teased, pressing an open mouthed kiss to her neck.
"Well, my dear thane, if you want to have another tumble, you'd best drop it."
"Should I now?"
Katrina nipped his ear. "I'm not going to have sex while thinking about my sister. That's just…ugh."
Cullen rolled off of her, laughing. It was deep and rich. He brought his hands up to cover his face, his chest rising and falling quickly with that musical sound. Katrina slipped closer to him until she was leaning over him. She pressed a quick kiss to his chest, running her hand down across his muscles and lower. His laughter subsided in a sharp moan as her fingers closed around his manhood.
"Do you think we can change the subject?"
"Yes, my lady," he gasped, slinging one arm over his eyes and reaching down with the other to encircle her waist as she moved her hand in gentle yet firm strokes up and down his length.
Just as he thrust his hips into her grasp, his breath shuddering through him, a voice interrupted them.
"Katrina? Maker's flaming Bride, did the books topple over on you? You've been gone over an hour…"
Eyes widening, Katrina bit down on her lip to keep herself from gasping that her sister was just down the hall from them. Were it not for the curtain in the thane's doorway, she would see them. And if she paused for a second, she would surely hear them.
Even as Katrina moved to retrieve her shirt from the floor, Cullen caught her around the waist, pulling her close and holding a finger to his lips. His breathing was considerably more labored than hers—and his patience thin, no doubt, as she felt him twitch against her hip—yet he'd managed to quiet down surprisingly fast.
The two of them waited.
"Katrina?" Amelia's voice was closer this time, likely outside of the room where the books were. Footsteps, a huffed breath. "Maker, where has she gotten off to?"
Lady, let her just grab the books she needs and go, Katrina thought, though she did stretch off the edge of the bed, reaching across the floor with her toes to try to grab some article of clothing, lest her sister prove too curious.
"Honestly?" Morrigan's voice answered, sounding a bit exasperated and like she was in the room with the books. "I'd wager the thane has made off with her to some quiet corner. They do so enjoy one another's company. Rather loudly, I might add."
Katrina froze, fingers just barely clasped around the hem of something that was still partially caught around her toes. All this time, and it had never occurred to her that Morrigan slept one room over from them. She'd certainly never mentioned it.
"They what?" Amelia's voice had a dangerous edge to it. "Katrina is not some harlot."
"If it helps, he treats her well," Morrigan muttered. She could hear the sounds of books being rummaged through and shifted around. "I doubt he would have the heart to try to make her do anything against her will. And even if he did, she wouldn't let him. She has him, as you Lowlanders say, at her beck and call."
More shuffling, more movement. Amelia's voice was in the hall again. "Is she… do you think she's really happy here?"
"Have you not taken the time to ask her yourself?"
"I…she always tries to be stronger than she is," Amelia murmured. Her voice was getting softer as her footsteps carried her further from Katrina.
"I think she is quite content here. She is well loved and looked after."
Amelia's response, be it relief or further question, was too far from Cullen's room for them to hear. The door to his home opened and then closed, leaving Katrina and Cullen sitting in silence.
Finally, Katrina glanced over her shoulder at Cullen, arching her eyebrows. "We're not that loud, are we?"
Cullen stared back at her, lips quivering as he tried not to break out into a smile. "That was the part that concerned you?" Even as Katrina rolled her eyes, he plucked his kilt from her hands and tossed it back onto the floor. "You're louder than I am."
"No." Katrina turned to face him. "Really?"
He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose gingerly. "Does it matter? I love every sound you make."
With a little bit of a shrug, she let her gaze wander over him, down from his eyes, over his well-toned body and to his erection. "You just don't want me to leave things unfinished."
He pulled her into his lap, trailing kisses down her jaw and neck. "There is that."
When she thwacked his arm, he let out a soft, low laugh, his breath warm against her skin. She leaned forward to kiss his neck. "Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint you."
…-…
Cullen was restless. While this afternoon had certainly helped to alleviate some of his nerves, he couldn't stop thinking about how Katrina had disappeared on him. Only two days ago he'd been proud that she remembered that a woman's loyalty was to her hold, and then her sister had shown up.
Katrina's loyalty did not feel as clear as he would have liked. While, yes, she was certainly fond of his company, he couldn't help but worry that if she had to choose between himself and Amelia, he wouldn't like the result.
After all, Katrina had already chosen Amelia over the rest of her family, over herself.
Even when she'd talked about her sister, Cullen had never really thought that he would meet her. The way Katrina had talked, he'd sort of expected Amelia to be gone, that she would never be around to interfere with their relationship.
And yet here she was, in his hold, stealing all of his lady's time.
Well, most of it.
Thinking back to this afternoon made a wave of short-lived contentment wash through him.
She'd laughed at the thought of him being jealous of Amelia. He wasn't really jealous, though, he didn't think. He was more…concerned.
Yes, he was worried. Worried that Katrina would not be as adaptable as he'd hoped, worried that she would chose her family over her hold.
Though…he had offered her to be a part of the hold. She understood that was his offer, didn't she? Not just to stay as a guest, but to be a part of the hold. To be his.
He would talk to her. Tonight.
That was likely a few hours off, however.
He'd spent the last two days in talks with Garrett and Fenris, as well. He'd been partially curious to see if the elf would want to spend more of his time with the other Lowlanders, but Fenris didn't seem to have any real connection to them, nor any desire to learn what had happened in the northern world since he'd left it.
There were talks of clans being attacked along the western side of the mountains. In other words, the clans that bordered Orlais. With Katrina's admittance that the noble was trying to incite something against the Avvar, it looked like it had already started.
Cullen had asked if that meant Garrett planned on moving his people again, and he had just laughed and clapped a hand on Cullen's shoulder in an overly familiar way, promising they would be neighbors for a good, long while.
However, Cullen couldn't help but wonder just how far into the mountains the Orlesians planned on marching. While he was not one to flee a fight, he also knew to avoid one if it was unnecessary. There was no honor in having a life taken when there was no need to draw a blade to begin with.
Perhaps his people needed to move.
It didn't sit well with him, considering that they'd been in this place so long. While they knew nothing was permanent, the prospect of having to leave behind what had always been his home was daunting, and having to lead his people through such a move would be even harder.
He wanted to know more about this noble's power. How far did their reach extend? Were there really so many clans being attacked at the moment? Or was it just a few, with stories being changed upon retelling until it came out to ridiculous numbers?
Cullen had already sent scouts to a few other clans to find out, had already re-inspected his hold's defenses. It needed to be harder to get in. Of that, he was sure. They could add a foot or so to the walls perhaps. Set traps to keep people from making it over.
Cassandra was overseeing such things, with her husband, Galyan, looking into possible enchantments that would make such defenses even more dangerous for encroaching enemies.
There was much that needed to be done, but very little for him to do now.
Hence the restlessness.
There weren't even any squabbles among his people for him to pass judgment on. These were the sorts of hours that he would normally head off to find Katrina and lure her away from her reading to spend time with him.
While he shouldn't have, he liked drawing her attention away from those books. It meant that she would be with him longer before heading down to the Lowlands.
Cullen supposed that was the one good thing with the forgone journals being relevant again.
Though, with Amelia and Zevran piecing things together, even that would end sooner than later, wouldn't it?
Cullen had gone back to his home so that his need to pace wouldn't stir unease amidst his people, and his mind abruptly wandered to the books that Katrina had brought into his room. The ones that Cole thought involved Cullen's clan.
His ability to read and write was not anything substantial. However, he did know the Lowlands' letters and could piece together some words. His mother had always thought it important to be able to communicate with the Lowlanders using methods they deemed important, should they ever cross paths. After she'd died, he hadn't found an interest in it.
That had disappointed Rosalie to no end, especially when Branson and Mia had been of the same mind. She'd never asked their father; he hurt too much even thinking about the way they'd lost their mother.
Walking back to his room, he eyed the two stacks of books. Slowly, he crossed the floor to them and picked one up. He opened it to the first page and stared blankly at the letters scrawled across the paper. Just looking at them created a dull pressure in the back of his head, a warning of a headache to come. However, he'd be damned if he just sat around idle.
Walking back out of his home to sit on one of the boulders near it so that he could take advantage of the natural light, he began to inspect the page, slowly piecing together the different words and sounding them out in his head, trying to think if he understood any of them.
Aside from 'the' and 'of' and a few simpler words, not much stood out to him.
With a sigh, he shut the book, resting it on his knee and staring out across what he could see of his hold.
He headed back in to toss the book on his bed and then let his feet carry him where they would. Of course he ended up in the guest quarters. The commons room was empty, but he could hear voices coming from one of the rooms. The curtain was open, surprisingly enough, and as he approached he could see Zevran with his back against the far wall.
Rosalie sat next to him, their shoulders touching.
Cullen's eyes were narrowed as he stepped through the doorway, though if the elf took notice, he hid it well, instead merely turning a brilliant smile toward him. "Thane Magicsbane! It is a pleasure to see you again, looking as handsome as ever."
Before he could think of a response—surely Zevran wasn't actually flirting with him—fingers were lacing with his, and drawing him over to the wall opposite the bed. Amelia and Morrigan were already seated a bit further from the door, and Katrina plopped down beside Amelia, pulling Cullen down with her. He settled in with his back against the adjacent wall, just beside the doorway. Katrina seemed content with his proximity, as she released his hand and picked up a book that had quite clearly been dropped. He hadn't even heard it fall.
Amelia was glaring daggers again. It was a good thing she hadn't any magical aptitude, or he'd have probably been on fire by now. However, rather than declare war, she simply lifted her head, chin sticking out a bit further than usual. "Are you here to help us read?"
"No," Cullen replied, frowning when she immediately scowled. "I was hoping I might get an update on what you've found."
"I thought Katrina already filled you in. Earlier." The last word seemed to be meant to imply that she knew he'd had his hands all over her sister and that Amelia in no way approved.
Cullen returned her stare with one that all but admitted the things he'd done with Katrina, and an intent to continue to do so.
Katrina was blissfully ignorant of it all, her head bowed down as she skimmed the pages in front of her. Without thinking, she extender her legs so that they crossed over Cullen's, and he had to bite back a laugh at the look of pure horror and rage that settled onto Amelia's face. Perhaps they were not nearly as similar as he'd first thought they might be. "I'm afraid we aren't much further along." Katrina finally looked up at him. "Amelia and Zevran managed to cross off another name or two, but we still haven't figured out who it actually is who's behind all this."
"Are you reading up on the nobles, as well?" Cullen asked, head cocked.
Katrina shook hers. "No. Morrigan and I are finishing with the last few for the Avvar dealings. We hope to be done by the end of next week."
"We can likely be through our part by then, as well," Amelia quickly added, her voice a strain as she tried to stay civil. "After all, you don't need those details, just the names."
For some reason, Cullen didn't like the way she'd said that. He swallowed any biting retorts that maybe he was interested in what foolishness went on in the Lowlands and shrugged. "Good. Better to be done with this mess."
"I agree." Amelia pointedly flipped the page in her book before looking back down. "Now then, lest you have other questions, I do believe we are all rather busy."
"Lest you wish to find yourself wrestling bears outside of the hold, you'll watch your tone," Cullen replied, crossing his arms. As Amelia's gaze snapped back toward him, he quirked a brow. "I do not pretend to know how your Lowlands work, but here, you will show me respect or you will find my hospitality expended."
"I do like a man who knows when to put his foot down," Zevran declared. Rosalie rolled her eyes, drawing her legs up to herself and wrapping her arms around her knees. Zevran grinned and added, "A lady, too, of course."
Even as Rosalie muttered something about how he should go back to reading, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind one of her ears as a slight flush reddened her cheeks, Amelia tapped her nails sharply against her book. Katrina was the one to speak. "You shouldn't test him. He'll do it."
That seemed to take both him and her sister aback. However, even as he felt a small swell of affection bubble up in his chest, Amelia straightened up, eyes locked on Cullen. "What are your intentions toward my sister?"
That threw him. Katrina, too. "What?"
"Your intentions," Amelia repeated. "What do you intend to do with my sister? I am told nothing is set in your culture. So how long will it be before you grow tired of her? How long until you seek a proper wife, and she is left trapped in your hold, with no way back to the Lowlands?"
"Amelia, for fuck's sake," Katrina hissed. "Now is not the time—"
"When will it be? When he's setting you up in one of these rooms because he's bored of what you can do in his?"
Cullen let out a low growl that surprised everyone, himself included.
Leaning forward, Rosalie was the one to try to fix the situation. "Avvar marriages last for years, depending on how the ceremony plays out and—"
"And that's worse," Amelia snapped. "Let's say you have your ceremony and keep Katrina, say, five, six, seven years? Then what? Do you move on, and she gets passed along to someone else? Do you hand her off to another clan? She deserves more than to be some temporary consort!"
Cullen felt like someone had lit a fire inside of him. Who did this conceited, Lowlands wretch think she was to question him like this? To criticize his people, his culture when she knew next to nothing of it?
Even as he drew himself up, pushing away from the wall, he caught a glimmer of fear in her eyes.
Not of him.
Amelia might have fled the Comte because he was threatening her, but she had that same bond with Katrina. If she was anything like his lady, then she wouldn't back down so long as she felt her sister was in danger. If she truly believed her sister might be discarded…
"My augur stole his bride almost twenty years ago," he stated simply. When Amelia started to snap something about relevance, he held a hand up to quiet her. "Their marriage lasted four years." He paused, a faint smile tugging on his scar as he looked at Katrina instead. She'd never heard this story either. "His hands were shaking so badly he couldn't get most of the knots undone. Cassandra even tried to drag out her song to help him, but it was no use. He was too nervous." Reaching out, he trailed his knuckles down her cheek. "They were married four years, and when the end came, neither of them wanted to say goodbye. Technically they aren't married anymore, yet they still claim one another as husband and wife. They are free to move on whenever one is ready to, but they are happy together." He cleared his throat, gaze still on Katrina. "I tell you this because… You are free to leave whenever you wish, but I will keep you at my side until the day you do."
She caught his hand and pressed a quick kiss to his fingers. "You're going to be stuck with me for a long time then, dear thane."
"I wouldn't have it any other way."