Zevran allowed the breath he had been holding to escape through his nose as he soon as he overheard the sound of Alistair's fading footsteps. The tension ebbed from his shoulders and he straightened while his hand which had been pressed flat against the door fell to his side. From behind, he heard a short sniff from Liahn who was evidently unconvinced that he would have refused the King entry into the room. Perhaps the mage was right but Zevran was still relieved not to have had to discover the answer for himself.

Turning from the door, the elf looked past the mage standing in the middle of the room towards Leliana. The Bard lay beneath the sheets with her head angled on the pillow in such a way to ensure that the bandage on her face remained undisturbed. Her eyes were closed with her eyelashes flush against her cheeks and her mouth was slightly parted as her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. It was a convincing act but Zevran was aware that was all it was. She had likely awoken the moment his hand had rested against the door latch if not upon hearing the soft murmur of his and Liahn's voices. No rogue would allow themselves to be caught unawares when they were in such a vulnerable position as she was.

Zevran glanced back at Liahn, who had been staring at him, evidently waiting for a reaction to the information she had grudgingly parted with before Alistair had interrupted them. But for once, the elf found himself at a loss. With hindsight, he should have taken the mage directly to Elissa but that would have roused Alistair's attention even further. Zevran was well-versed in the artistry of assassination but truly, it was Leliana who possessed the knowledge of true political intrigue and it was that knowledge he wished he had at this moment.

But the recognition of Leliana's talent offered a respite from the thoughts crowding into his mind.

"It is good manners to inform the patient of your intent, yes?" Zevran gestured towards the bed as he found his voice. "You will tell her what you have told me."

Liahn scowled. "It is for the Hero to decide."

"The Hero will not act without the consent of her friend," the elf snapped. "You have already failed to achieve what you intended through deception. I suggest that you explore the results which an honest approach may produce."

The scowl remained on the mage's face but after a brief hesitation, she nodded in sullen agreement.

"I will wake her. Begin whatever tasks you must," Zevran brushed past the mage and moved to the bed.

There was a faint scuff of the mage's boots against the floor as she moved towards her table before turning her back on the two rogues. On hearing the sound, Leliana's eyelids flickered open as she scoped the room from beneath her eyelashes. Glimpsing Zevran's approach, she allowed one eye to open fully and raised an eyebrow in silent question, evidently sensing his internal conflict in him as easily as he had sensed her alertness.

His brief hesitation to respond to the movement was enough to prompt Leliana to open her other eye. A frown furrowed her forehead and she stole a look towards Liahn before glancing back at Zevran as means of silent question. The elf nodded once in the hopes that she would understand that the presence of the mage was preventing him from confiding in her.

Leliana mirrored the movement as a sign that she understood. Making a point of stirring as though she had only just woken up, she let out a small gasp of feigned surprise. "Oh! Liahn. Zev. Is it morning already?"

"Not yet seven bells," Zevran responded with a smile. He leant over the woman and hooked his hands beneath her arms in order to help her find a more comfortable upright position.

Once Leliana was settled with the pillows rearranged at the base of her back, Zevran pulled a wooden chair closer to the side of the bed. Sinking down onto it, he reached for her hand and began to manipulate her fingers in order to ease the chilled stiffness that he knew came with morning. Whether it helped to encourage what little dexterity remained within them, he had no idea but it had become a little ritual that she permitted him to do for her.

A dull thud followed by a scrape revealed that Liahn had begun to grind some of her herbs in preparation for a fresh salve to be administered to the burn on Leliana's face. The mage was efficient in her craft and Zevran knew it would only be a few minutes before she would wish to examine the burn to determine what additional ingredients should be added to aid the healing.

"Liahn has a proposal," Zevran murmured, his gaze still fixed on the Bard's fingers. "You must listen to her, Leliana. Closely."

Sensing an unusual resistance to his touch, he raised his head to find that Leliana was boring a stare into him. Catching his eye, she widened her eyes as means of communicating the incredulity that she sensed she should not give voice to in Liahn's presence.

"Closely," he mouthed again before glancing over his shoulder to the mage. The pounding of the mortar and pestle had stilled and she was in the process of heating a small bowl of water with a blast of her magic. "Liahn."

The woman refused to respond for a moment and instead concentrated on wetting a cloth. Wringing out the excess water, she turned and indicated that Zevran should move in order that she could remove the bandage from Leliana's face.

Dutifully, he laid Leliana's hand on her lap and stood to one side, pushing the chair out of the way and turning his back on the two women in the process. Turning away from the bed, Zevran moved to a part of the wall that was empty of bookcases and leant his shoulder against the stone, keeping his back to the two women. He hooked a foot around the back of his ankle and folded his arms across his chest while focusing his attention on the sounds behind him.

"Liahn," he addressed the mage again, more sharply this time.

"Patience," she hissed and he heard the soft rustle of bandage being removed. A few moments later, just as Zevran was about to rebuke the mage once more, Liahn let out a soft sigh. "Leliana, we have discussed your progress, yes? You know that there is not much more I can do for you."

"You have said that you will be ordered back to the Circle before I am fully healed."

"That is also true..." the mage acknowledged before breaking off as a faint cry came from Leliana. "My apologies, Leliana. Just let me... there, it is done. Are you alright? Yes? Good." There was the rustle of robes as Liahn returned to her table but since no indication was given that he could turn round, Zevran continued to keep his back to the pair. "Even if I had longer to treat you, I do not believe my skill is sufficient to heal you entirely, Leliana. But I am only one healer and there are others within the Circle who possess both superior knowledge and talents. It is possible that they may be able to heal the injuries in your hands and legs."

There was a sharp intake of breath and Zevran guessed that it was from Leliana.

"My dear, it is not as simple as that," he spoke over his shoulder, not wishing to stir unfounded hope in his friend.

"Oh?"

"The Knight-Captain has ordered that Elissa must make the request personally."

A silence fell over the room broken only by the soft clink of vials and dull thud of the pestle as Liahn focused on creating her salve. Zevran strained to hear any sound from Leliana which would hint at her understanding of the situation. He knew it was not beyond her to make the connections. Following on from the terse exchanges yesterday, it was clear that the mage had not requested that Leliana be permitted to accompany her back to Kinloch Hold simply from the goodness of her heart. But no matter what Liahn's ulterior motives, Elissa would refuse to make the request if she believed that Leliana's presence within the Circle would threaten the delicate balance between templars and mages.

There was a shuffling of sheets as Leliana resettled herself in the bed. "Elissa must request that I am to be taken to Kinloch Hold?"

Unintentionally, both mage and elf chorused "yes."

"I did not know that the Circle accepted patients."

Zevran swallowed his groan. Her deflection was not encouraging.

Stopping with her preparations, Liahn's voice came across more clearly. "You are a Sister, Leliana. It should be little surprise to discover that the Chantry is struggling to find those who are willing to serve in the Circle in the aftermath of Uldred."

"I have not taken my vows."

"I do not think it will matter greatly."

"I see."

The two words were spoken with a finality that Zevran could not bear. Disregarding the vanity of the Bard, he spun round and advanced towards her, ignoring both her squeal of protest and Liahn's outraged tut.

"You wish to healed, yes?" he demanded earnestly.

Her head tilted forward so that her hair fell across her face and obscured the majority of the burn from sight. She winced as even the light graze of strands of her hair caused her pain and Zevran stopped, not wishing to hurt her any further.

"Leliana," he pleaded, "please. Allow us to speak to Elissa. For your own sake."

The Bard chose not to respond, keeping her head down and refusing to acknowledge either him or the mage.

Zevran narrowed his eyes at her, knowing that she was attuned to the atmospherics of her surroundings and would sense his displeasure. But even caught between a Hero and a martyr, he refused to admit defeat.

"Whether you wish it or not, I wish you to be healed," he turned from Leliana towards Liahn and gestured towards the door. "Come with me. The Knight-Captain will expect a prompt response and we cannot send one if the Hero has not been consulted."

"Zevran! Don't you..." Leliana jerked her head up, glaring at him.

The elf ignored the protest and hustled Liahn from the room. Staggering a little at the abruptness with which he had manoeuvred her, Liahn resisted walking towards Elissa's room and turned to face him.

"She does not wish..."

Brushing past her, Zevran headed down to the end of the hallway. Calling over his shoulder, he remarked, "you proposed to take her without anyone's consent. Do not tell me that you are now concerned about ethical implications."

With a small snort, the mage dismissed her brief moment of hypocrisy and joined the elf as he hammered against the door.

A muttered groan met the noise.

"Elissa," he raised his voice so that it could be heard through the door. "I have cause to speak with you. Urgently."

"Zev?"

"Yes. May we come in?"

"We?"

"Liahn and I."

"Lia... Yes, I mean, no... uh, wait a moment, alright?"

Through the door, Zevran could only make out the muffled curses of the woman as she completed whatever task she intended. True to her word however, the door did eventually creak open to reveal a heavy-eyed Hero of Ferelden dressed in distinctly crumpled clothes.

Studying Zevran's face, she glanced towards Liahn and found the same severe expression. Opening the door a little wider, she gave herself a small shake as she attempted to wake herself up more thoroughly. "What's wrong?"

Zevran took a step inside the doorway. "Liahn has a proposition for you."

Having passed a young serving girl en-route to his room, Alistair found that his request for water, soap and a razorblade had been fulfilled even before he had reached the room. But the unwelcoming sensation of the taint trilling at the base of his head was sufficient motivation to not linger longer than he needed to.

Hurriedly completing his ablutions, he chose to ignore the twinge of embarrassment that heated his cheeks at the sight of the bundled weapons lying on the unused bed. Despite being unceremoniously kicked from his betrothed's bed to prevent any awkward confrontations, it seemed that everyone within the state was already fully aware of where he had slept. This was becoming ridiculous. The sooner they were married, the better; if only for the extra time in bed it would allow him to have.

As he finished washing, Alistair reached for the rosewood ring Morrigan had given him but stopped short of replacing it on his index finger. So far, he had only removed the ring only for a few minutes at a time but maybe it was foolish for him to wear it rather than keep it safe somewhere, perhaps with Riordan's swords and Wynne's staff. After all, the child would not be born for some time and although most would assume that the ring was only a trinket or a token from Elissa – and bless the woman for not making any further comment about his wearing it – he did not want to run the risk of losing the only connection Morrigan had granted him to his son. She could have taken it back after she had cast that sleeping spell over him and she hadn't. He would never forgive himself if either she or the child somehow needed his assistance and he remained unaware simply because it was hidden at the back of some chest. His new-found resolution prompted him to push it back into place at the base of his finger. Better to lose it through wear rather than carelessness.

Dressing in fresh clothes from the chests and wardrobes, Alistair slipped from his room and away from the vicinity of the Orlesians. As much as he wished to know what had occurred between Eamon and the Commander during the previous evening, he had no wish to endure an altercation with the rest of the Wardens.

Heading towards the kitchens secure in the knowledge that wherever he might be, Zevran would find him as promised, he almost walked into the Arl as they each rounded a corner at the same time.

"Ah, Alistair," Eamon recovered himself first. "Excellent. I was hoping to speak with you."

"Can I get breakfast first?"

The Arl raised an eyebrow. "There is much to discuss and little time to do it in. It is your choice, however."

"No," he sighed, ignoring the low growl of protest which came from the pit of his stomach. "You're right. What happened with the Commander last night?"

"All in due time, Alistair. There are other matters we must attend to first," Eamon turned and gestured that Alistair follow him away from the kitchen and in the direction of his study.

Lengthening his stride so that they walked side by side, Alistair pressed the man further. "But you can tell me what happened, surely?"

Eamon spared a sidelong glance towards him. "There has been some progress."

"Some progress? What's some progress?"

"Alistair..." Eamon began but fell silent as they passed near a servant scrubbing the floor. Once out of earshot, the Arl began again. "Alistair, you must learn that there is a time and place for everything. The hallways of a noble estate will never be the right place."

Suitably chastised, Alistair fell into a reluctant silence but he waited only as long as it took to reach the study. As soon as they were in the room, he closed the door firmly behind them before he moved to the middle of the room while Eamon walked towards the desk.

"Well?" he demanded.

A heavy sigh greeted his insistence but Eamon at least deigned to respond. "The Commander and I wish to discuss the situation with both you and the Hero this afternoon."

As though considering that statement to be sufficient, the Arl sat down in his chair and busied himself with searching through the drawers of the desk.

Alistair took another step closer. "Discuss what situation?"

Eamon glanced up from the desk with a darkening expression. "Alistair, we must first address our own concerns before that of the Grey Wardens."

"But..."

"Enough!" the Arl punctuated the word with a slam of a drawer.

Alistair flinched at the sharp rebuke before remembering that the right of entitlement was no longer in the Arl's favour. Gathering his wits about him, he straightened so that he stood at his full height and fixed an unblinking gaze on the older man.

"I have asked that you tell me what's going on."

"Your Majesty," Eamon acknowledged the display of bravado in front of him through use of the title, "please. I ask that you trust me a little while longer. The situation is in hand."

Exasperated, Alistair dropped his shoulders and rubbed at the back of his neck. "What is the situation, Eamon?"

"Delicate," the Arl gave a small shake of his head accompanied with another long sigh. He swivelled in his chair to pull open a drawer on the other side of the desk and retrieved a sheet of vellum, placing it on the surface of the desk so that Alistair could read it. "This is vital."

Approaching the desk, Alistair leant over and ran his eye across the words in the hopes of uncovering the source of Eamon's reticence but the document referred to Anora. It was the execution order from yesterday.

Jerking back, he raised his head to shoot a glare at Eamon. "No! This isn't anything to do with..."

"This has a great deal to do with the Grey Wardens," the Arl interrupted, throwing himself back in his chair and pinching the top of his nose as he closed his eyes. "The Landsmeet found in your favour but Anora was Cailin's Queen. While the nobility see and understand the distinction between you both, the Orlesian Wardens do not."

He let out an incredulous snort of laughter. "So I should agree to have her executed?"

Eamon cracked open an eye and studied Alistair over the top of his hand. "She would not have hesitated to order your own execution had the Landsmeet gone the other way. Do not fool yourself that she would have shown the same foresight that you did."

"Wardens are needed to end a Blight," Alistair shook his head. "She would have hoped that I'd die in the process but I can't see that she would risk the defence of Ferelden."

Lowering his hand so that he could look at the younger man properly, Eamon rested his elbows against the armrests of the chair and linked his fingers together across his chest. "You are more forgiving than I."

"I'm not arguing that Anora is not a cold-hearted bitch but..."

"Not only would she not have hesitated to execute you but she was willing to risk the life of the Hero," Eamon gave another small shake of his head. "Yes, you are a better man than I could hope to be."

A frown flickered across Alistair's face as his gaze was drawn away from Eamon towards the far corner of the study. He had waited there for hours while Elissa had snuck into the Palace, intent on rescuing the Queen. He had begged and pleaded with her to let him accompany her but she had only smiled before ordering him to stay. When the others had returned, bloodied and bruised, with only Erlina and Anora, he had almost lost his head.

"What if Loghain had acted with more haste when he had the Hero imprisoned?"

The question, softly-spoken, caught him off-guard and his fists clenched by his side. In the chaos which had followed the report that Elissa had been captured, it was Leliana and Wynne who had returned to the Palace in disguise. They were a logical combination: Leliana could pick locks and Wynne would not be recognised. At least, that's what they had told him. But there was only one reason why a healer with only defensive spells would be permitted to accompany a rogue into the very bowels of their enemy's stronghold.

Once he had realised that, it was all the rest could do to ensure that he was kept as far from Anora as possible. More than once, he attempted to storm from the study but either Sten or Oghren had stepped forward. At first, they had simply talked him down from his intent but as time had passed with no news, it had become necessary to deter him with increasing force. Finally, Sten had taken him by the shoulder and slammed him against the wall with the single command of stay. After that, he had slid to the floor and with his head in his hands, simply prayed. Trapped and useless, he never wanted to feel that way again.

"If Leliana and Wynne had returned without her; if they too had been discovered; if all three had been harmed," Eamon paused before finishing in a low voice, "what then, Alistair? What would you have done?"

Struggling to maintain his composure, Alistair fixed his gaze on the older man.

"Is it any less than what it your Maker-given right to do now?"

With gritted teeth, Alistair snatched up the quill which lay to one side of the desk and stabbed the nib into the small ink pot. Not waiting to ease the excess from the tip, he scrawled a signature across the bottom of the vellum. It was untidy and covered with blotches and splatters but it was recognisable as his.

"An excellent decision, Alistair. You have the makings of a fine King."

Throwing the quill down on the table, he ignored the man and retreated to the opposite end of the room from that dreaded corner. It was funny. Yesterday he had been unfit to walk in step with the Arl. Now, an execution order later, he had the makings of a King.

What a difference a day made.

Elissa was sitting on the bed with her legs pulled up against her chest, resting her chin on her knees and glancing between Liahn and Zevran. The mage was sitting on the chair near the door while the elf was standing beside the window. Both had their gaze fixed on her with a shared expectation written across their faces that she respond to the story they had just revealed to her. The problem was that she found that there was little to say.

She shot another fleeting look towards Zevran. Reading between the lines as Zevran had intended her to, she had quickly worked out that Liahn's request was motivated more by the need to discover the truth about Wynne rather than any true desire to investigate how best to heal Leliana. But then who was she to cast judgements on motivations? Her own incentives had become blurred and manipulated more than once. And she was beginning to see that it would happen again. At least this time though, she would be doing the wrong thing for better reasons than her own cowardice.

Stretching her legs out, Elissa shuffled down the bed and perched on the edge. "I want to speak with Leliana..." Hearing the Bard's name and assuming her presence would be required, Liahn made to stand but Elissa waved her back down. "Alone."

Zevran cleared his throat. "I do not think..."

"Are you questioning me, Zev?" she asked conversationally, pulling on her boots without so much as sparing a glance for him. She was certain that Alistair had not yet spoken with the elf which meant she could rely on the fact that Zevran was unlikely to challenge her decisions outright with Liahn watching them.

He sighed but other than tapping his foot against the ground a few times, he made no other protest. "As it please you, my Warden."

"Good," she straightened and flashed him a reassuring smile. "Wait here, both of you. It won't take long."

Slipping away from their company, she made her way towards the Bard's room. For the woman who had willingly joined her, searched for her when Elissa had not wished to be found and somehow discovered an inner strength to come to terms with the implications of Elissa's desertion, there was only one question which really had to be asked. Maker help her, she did not wish to prolong the issue with a discussion. That in itself was proof enough that no matter what followed, she knew in herself that what she was about to do was the right thing.

Elissa gave a single knock on the door before stealing into the room. Upon entering, Leliana ducked her head down and a quick glance towards the table told Elissa that Liahn had not finished her morning routine before Zevran had insisted that the mage come and speak with her.

Dropping down on the bed beside Leliana, Elissa leant forward and hooked a finger beneath the Bard's chin, forcing her head up. Even if she had not already made up her mind, the shame with which Leliana avoided her gaze would have rendered any internal conflict irrelevant. True, the burn on her face was superficial compared to the injuries in her limbs but it was the one which remained in order that the hidden injuries could not be overlooked or forgotten.

"Leliana," she murmured. "Leliana, look at me."

The Bard refused to lift her eyes so Elissa waited, finger still beneath her chin. Eventually, the other woman dragged her stare from the floor to meet Elissa's gaze.

Elissa offered her a hesitant smile. "Do you want me to speak with the Knight-Captain about taking you to Kinloch Hold?"

Surprise flashed across the Bard's face and she jerked her chin up and away although she did not drop her gaze. "I will not lie to the Templars about any risk..."

"I understand," Elissa interrupted her abruptly. "But do you want me to make the request?"

"You would do this? Still?"

Elissa's hesitant smile flourished in a warm if somewhat resigned one as she reached forward, squeezing the woman's arm. "How could I do anything else?"

"I will not stand idly by."

"I wouldn't expect you to, Leliana. All I ask is that you consider carefully before you inform the templars. It will take time for the mages to organise themselves, if they organise, but it will take the templars no time at all. You know what the danger is, you can watch and wait. If the time comes, if, then you will be able to act and give detailed information. Surely that is better than the kneejerk reaction you know will come from the templars if you tell them now?"

Leliana eyed her with a suspicion she made no attempt to hide. "I do not understand how you can have changed your beliefs so strikingly since last night."

"I told you," she squeezed the Bard's arm again. "How could I do anything else if it means that you might recover?"

"You are offering to pay a high price."

"You know it's not my price to pay. So, please, don't jeopardise the chance to be healed if there is no need."

Leliana chewed at her bottom lip as she studied Elissa with an intensity that would have shaken Andraste herself. Finally though, she nodded, "I will watch and listen until I have evidence."

"If you have evidence."

A ghost of a smile crossed the Bard's face. "I see your blind hope is returning to you, dear one."

"I prefer to think of it as optimism," Elissa smiled before leaning forward and throwing her arms around the Bard. "I didn't think you'd be leaving me, Leliana."

"Only for a short time, dear one," the Bard tightened her arms around the other woman and held her close.

They remained in the embrace for a few moments before Leliana released her hold.

"I'll have Zev fetch the Knight-Captain now," Elissa got to her feet. "And I'll come and sit with you in a little while, alright?"

"I would like that."

Retracing her steps to her own room, Elissa took a breath before entering. Ignoring Liahn for the moment, she focused all her attention on Zevran and raised her hand. She gestured to the window as indication that the elf head out into the marketplace as she told him, "bring the Captain here. I'll meet him downstairs."

In other circumstances, she would have enjoyed the shock which manifested through a widening of his eyes. A barely noticeable reaction for anyone else, it was distinctive in the normally unflustered elf. Within a heartbeat, he brought the slight movement under swift control and offered her a small bow as way of acknowledgement.

Elissa stepped aside so that he could leave. He made his escape and Elissa held up a finger to Liahn in a silent command that she stop fidgeting and remain in her seat. Poking her head out from the room, she watched as Zevran strode down the hallway and towards the stairs. It was only when he vanished down the stairs that she retreated back into the room and shut the door firmly behind her.

She folding her arms across her chest and studied the mage. "I take it that this did not work out as you intended?"

The mage's cool exterior extended to her ice cold tone. "What makes you say that, Warden?"

"You hoped that the Captain would not dare oppose the Hero and simply agree to take Leliana, didn't you? Then once you had her at the Circle, you intended to interrogate her further about what she may or may not have known about Wynne."

"Wynne treated you. What relevance does Leliana have?"

Loosening her arms from in front of her, Elissa began to count the reasons out on her fingers. "She travelled with Wynne, she travelled with me and you have no reason to drag me back to Kinloch Hold to study me further."

Liahn remained silent.

Elissa rolled her eyes. It mattered little whether the mage chose to admit to her intent or not but it would have been a welcome introduction for what she was about to admit to.

"Liahn, Wynne was possessed by a Spirit of Healing."

A fraction of a delay and then the coldness which had built over the last few days melted from Liahn, and with it about two decades. With a jolt, Elissa realised that the mage was probably only a few years older than herself.

"I knew it," she whispered before shooting Elissa a bewildered glance. "Why admit this now? Why didn't you tell me this yesterday?"

"Yesterday was different. It wasn't about someone else, it was just me. Now though, it's about Leliana," Elissa shrugged. "You'll still help her?"

The question caused the mage to regain her distrustful hesitance and she studied the woman in front of her with a suspicious frown. "You knew what it was I sought from Leliana. Now I know, why would you think I would honour my agreement?"

"If you had made the discovery mid-treatment, would you have continued to help her?"

"I..." Liahn began but she stopped herself and a small flush crossed her cheeks as she lowered her head. "I don't know."

"Well, now you know about Wynne. So there should be nothing to distract you from doing all you can to help Leliana," Elissa allowed her voice to harden. "If you don't and harm her further then I promise you that I will send for the Right of Annulment. And don't think I will be denied."

"Do you find that excessive threats work often, Warden?"

"She's my friend."

Liahn snorted before muttering beneath her breath, "then I dread to think the lengths you would go for someone you loved." She turned and walked towards the window, tapping a finger against her chin as she did so. Raising her voice, she stated, "I have not and cannot promise that we can help her. I simply do not know if it is possible. But in light of the consequences should we not try," she shot a look over her shoulder at Elissa, "I promise that we will at least strive to do so to the best of our abilities. How is that?"

"It's enough," Elissa conceded, though her voice remained cold. "But whatever you do, ensure that your knowledge about Wynne is kept from Leliana. She believes in the Chantry and the work of the templars. She will not hesitate to inform them if she believes you pose a threat."

"Aside from the subjectivity involved with assessing a threat," Liahn turned to face Elissa with an ill-disguised sneer, "we are well-practised in keeping secrets, Warden. Have no fear." The scorn written across the mage's face deepened as she eyed the woman. "But what of our templar King?"

Elissa closed her eyes briefly, exhaling as she reigned in her anxiety. She had no doubt that Alistair would be furious – more than furious – when he discovered what she had done. And it would be when. She could not keep this secret from him. But that was not a matter to be considered at this moment. "He has no knowledge that I have done this. It is important that his involvement remains negligible."

Liahn resumed tapping her finger against her chin but seemed unsurprised by the statement. "Yes and you will be protected by your Order should the truth come out." Her finger stilled as a frown deepened and she stole a look towards Elissa. "I was uncertain whether the rumours were true."

"Rumours?"

"Yes. I have seen the both of you together and I doubted that either of you would be prepared to make such a decision. But it seems clear that you have."

"What?"

The mage's expression cleared as she attempted to decipher the confused stare which Elissa had fixed on her. "The Sisters in the Chantry. They are in uproar. The Arl of Redcliffe has asked that preparations be made for the coronation."

"Well, yes. Of course."

"A coronation, Warden," the mage took a few steps towards her. "A coronation."

"Yes, Alistair is to be King. You said so yourself," Elissa snapped, irritated to be treated as a simpleton. "Why has this upset the Sisters?"

"Well, aside from the fact that the Revered Mother was lost in the siege and they must contact the Grand Cleric..." Liahn paused, searching the other woman's face for a last-minute sign that the Warden was not playing the fool. Finding that the other woman really had no idea as to what she was talking about, she began to fidget with the sleeves of her robes as a means of distracting herself from the awkwardness. "Elissa, there is no talk of a wedding. There is not even word about recognising the betrothal with a prayer or blessing."

Elissa waved away the mage's remark. "The coronation is more important."

"Then you are still betrothed?"

"Of course!" The words were out of her mouth even before she recognised the presence of a niggle at the back of her mind. "Wait, you said that I would be protected by my Order. What did you mean?"

"I assumed that if you were not to marry the King then you would remain a Warden."

She began to protest at the ridiculousness of such a statement. If Alistair was to be accepted by the Wardens as King then she would remain at his side as his Queen, surely that was obvious. She would not abandon him to pursue a life in the Grey Wardens, just as he would not abandon her to become King...

But even as her mouth moved to form the counterarguments, snatches of reactions and comments from the last few days coalesced into one narrative; Alistair's strange behaviour that first proper night after the final battle, that odd comment about the Commander's bow to him yesterday and then that something he had said about Eamon and the Wardens yesterday evening. The blood drained from her face as she desperately scrabbled to remember exactly what he had said and done over the last few days. Whatever it was, it had always been pre-empted by Eamon in some way. Eamon. Always Eamon.

Oh, what had Alistair done? No, what had he allowed Eamon to do?

"A trade," the words escaped from her in a strangled whimper.

It was the mage's turn to look confused. "A trade? Of what?"

Making no effort to respond, Elissa bolted from the room.

Thank you to EasternViolet for her hard work on this chapter.