There were plenty of people from the caravan milling in from of the inn, negotiating for rooms or, failing that, floorspace in attics and stables. After so many days sleeping under the clear sky, people were ready for ceilings again.
The innkeeper did not give Amell so much as a glance, but he did seem to pale slightly in Sten's presence, making Amell wonder just what the Qunari had done or said in order to secure the room.
She clambered up the stairs towards the first floor and Sten followed closely.
"Which door is it?" she asked over her shoulder.
"First on the left," Sten replied.
She was nearly at the top of the staircase now, but she stopped and turned around. Sten, two steps down, stopped his ascent as well, looking at her questioningly.
Amell threw only a glance past him and, when she confirmed they were alone, swooped and caught Sten in a kiss. His hands immediately went up to her shoulders, perhaps intending to push her away, but he only held her, gently and desperately, and he could not help responding in kind when she deepened the contact; she moved so languorously against him, her lips salty and warm, her hand pressing against his cheek, cold and soft. It seemed like it could have gone on forever, had reality not caught up eventually.
He pulled back, broke the contact and caught her hand in his, removing it from his cheek. Amell seemed unwilling to accept this and she leaned to resume their previous activities, but he caught her by the shoulders, spun her sideways and pressed her against the wall, keeping her at an arm's length.
She looked at him, defiant and unapologetic, flushed and panting, and Sten cursed himself because his own breathing was just as labored and for a short moment, he'd hated his armor for not permitting him to feel her body pressed against his.
"This way lies misery, kadan," he said, his voice strained.
"I would have thought quite the opposite," she replied cheekily.
He bit back a sigh of exasperation. Instead, he caught one of Amell's wrists and led her to the room, where they at least had some privacy. As he closed the door and turned to her, however, all the angry words he'd been preparing in his head faded.
She was looking at him expectant and unafraid. An opponent on the battlefield, he knew how to face, but not this woman who trusted him so deeply and thoroughly.
"I follow the Qun," he said without preamble.
"Okay..." Her eyebrows rose in confusion.
"In the Qun, all things have their place. All people," he continued calmly. "In your case, that place would not be... beneficial."
This she understood, because she frowned slightly and looked away. He knew she was thinking about mages on leashes and in cages again and that always upset her, but he had to finish this.
"And I cannot take you as my woman, because you are not Qunari. Do you understand?" He grasped her chin and made her look at him. She had tears in her eyes.
"No," she replied, her voice remarkably even. "I don't ask for legitimacy of our relationship. Do you think mages are allowed to marry? I realize that the world will not accept a great many things about me. But this is about us. This... this is only about affection and companionship; or does the Qun forbid these things?"
He was taken aback by this. He knew Fereldans had off notions about a great deal of things, but this was not a proper way of handling such affairs.
"No, but they would not last."
"Maybe," she conceded, folding her arms under her breasts and looking away. "But I'd rather take whatever happiness I can, whenever I have the chance, rather than be unhappy about missing the opportunity for the rest of my life."
"Even if it will cause you greater pain later?" he asked, his voice hollow.
She was silent for a long time (or maybe it just seemedlike a long time to Sten), before she spoke again.
"Tell me, Sten. What do you want?" she asked, her eyes betraying nothing. "I don't mean what your duty or the Qun dictates, I mean what do you yearn for?"
"I think you know," he replied.
She nodded thoughtfully.
"And what's stopping you from taking it?" she asked, tilting her head in a manner that exposed the graceful lines of her neck just a bit too well for it to be an innocent gesture.
"The knowledge that I would lose it eventually."
"That is a poor reason. If you'd have known you would lose Asala before it happened, would you have stopped using it?"
"Of course not!" He frowned.
"Well, then," she only said.
"The two situations are nothing alike," he protested.
"Why not?"
He had no reply to this. There were many reasons, but he could not articulate a single one at the moment. He wondered if it had been her intention from the start to confound him.
"When you have the answer, come find me," she said, as she brushed passed him and left the room.
He remained rooted on the spot. The creeping tendrils of uncertainty he always felt around her now had him firmly in their grip.