The celebratory atmosphere had carried its way to the feast, and Arais was hardly able to hear herself think. She managed conversation with those who sat near her, and Zevran had jokingly remarked on his being the sole elf at a table crowded with human nobles who seemed to not question his presence. Indeed, they all still seemed to be engrossed by Sten's presence, who more than once had deflected unwanted questions with a fearsome glare that had more than one noble shifting their seats ever-so-slightly away from the Qunari.

Now, she stood in the grand ballroom, chatting amiably with Anora and Isolde about the Circle and how the Chantry might react to being turned on its head. Occasionally, a passing pair of nobles would slow to stare at Isolde, and they would point and begin to whisper among themselves. By the fourth time this happened, the arlessa became visibly stricken, and her shoulders tensed.

"Is something the matter, Isolde?" Anora asked.

"I had hoped that the busybodies would not be so quick to spread news of what happened, but it seems it was a foolish hope." Both Anora and Arais gave her curious looks, and she sighed. "It is likely they are whispering about my marriage to Eamon. I had many of my things moved from Redcliffe castle to the estate in Denerim." Again, the two other women simply stared. Arais would have assumed the gossip would be about Connor's magic, but it seemed she would be wrong. "I am leaving my husband."

Anora's hand moved to her mouth, and something seemed to register for her, though Arais could hardly guess as to what.

"When did you decide this?" Arais asked, though she already had her suspicions.

"Not long after you and I spoke about his behavior, I talked to Teagan. He has been a good friend through the events that transpired after Connor's magic was discovered, and I knew I could trust him to be honest. I asked him what he thought of Eamon's behavior, and if he thought Eamon would ever come to understand what I did was because I thought it best for my son."

"What did he say?" Anora's voice was threaded with concern, yet still, she didn't sound nearly as surprised as she could have been.

"Enough for me to decide that my marriage to Eamon would likely never recover." Her eyes were glossy, but she blinked back the tears. "I told not a soul of my intentions, so I haven't the slightest idea how anyone might have found out. But I suppose moving my things, coupled with Eamon's absence from the coronation, was enough for the gossips to make up their minds."

"If you believe it is best for you, then I will support you in any way I can," Anora said, taking Isolde's hand. "You can even stay in the royal palace, if you would prefer to be completely separated from Eamon and the servants he keeps at the Redcliffe Estate."

"I appreciate the offer, Your Highness, but I've brought the few servants I trust from Redcliffe and relieved all others of their duties, for the time being." She sighed. "As for what will happen once the divorce has been settled, I will . . . Well, there will be time to think about that later."

They fell silent, and Arais's mind went wild. She could hardly believe that her conversation with Isolde would lead to this, of all things, but at the same time, it made sense. If Eamon was so short with Isolde while in the presence of others, Arais could only imagine just how bad he might have been when it was just the two of them.

Yes, this was probably the best thing for Isolde.

Another small group of nobles made their way past the three women, and again, they slowed to stare at Isolde. Knowing now what led to their behavior, Arais became upset, but said nothing.

"Excuse me," Anora said abruptly, and the group stopped, surprised. She dropped Isolde's hand, and gestured vaguely before her. "Is there something you need?"

"Ah, n-no, Your Highness," a man with a receding hairline and sharp, black eyes stammered. "We were just—"

"Sticking your nose where it doesn't belong?" the queen interjected.

A woman with dark brown hair streaked with gray and a long, hooked nose glanced at Isolde, and stuck out her chin indignantly. "We have no idea of what you are speaking, milady."

"I suspect you do." Anora stepped closer to the nobles, her expression severe. "You presume to gossip about a woman who has done nothing to earn your ire. I strongly suggest you desist, and find more agreeable topics of conversation." She lifted her chin. "Either that, or you can remove yourselves from the castle immediately."

The woman looked deeply offended, but a man with silver hair and light blue eyes nodded quickly. "Of course, Your Majesty. We apologize for the offense."

"Your apology is appreciated. If you could inform the other nobles who insist on engaging in such behavior of the consequences, should they continue, I would be exceedingly grateful." She motioned for them to leave, and they hurried off.

"Thank you, Your Highness."

"If it's all the same to you, I would rather you call me Anora." She smiled. "I hardly think formalities are necessary among friends, wouldn't you agree?"

Isolde smiled, though the way her eyes widened betrayed her surprise. "Indeed, I would."

"Well, that was certainly an interesting display." Loghain smirked at his daughter as he approached, and nodded his approval. He wore a gray tunic embroidered with dark blue at the cuffs, with trousers to match the embroidery. "Bann Esmerelle never has been one to take being talked down to well, even by higher ranked nobility."

"Then she should learn to be less offensive," Anora said with a laugh. "I never did like her."

"Nor I," Isolde chimed in, though she was clearly tense. No doubt being around the man who had her husband—now ex-husband, apparently—poisoned wasn't easy. "She would always ignore my presence, even while talking to Eamon as I stood right beside him. I'm sure it's because I am Orlesian—I never gave her reason to dislike me, otherwise."

"We all have our prejudices," Loghain said solemnly. "Some are not as easily convinced that they won't always be justified." He made eye contact with the arlessa, and Arais could see the apology in his eyes. Whether it was for what he had done to Eamon, or his own personal prejudice against the Orlesians, she couldn't be sure, but it was significant, regardless.

Isolde nodded to him, but said nothing in reply.

After a brief silence, Loghain turned to Arais. "Can I speak with you, privately?"

She nodded, and excused herself. When they were out of earshot of Anora and Isolde, she asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No, I just have some advice." He gestured subtly to the woman with the hooked nose. "You'll want to watch out for Bann Esmerelle. She's the bann of Amaranthine City, and one of Howe's former allies. I strongly suspect she will lose a lot of clout now that his family has been deposed, and will fight tooth and nail to get it back. And she is a force to be reckoned with on the political battleground."

"I appreciate the warning." She furrowed her brows. He made it sound as if this would be something she would have to deal with on her own. "Won't you be coming with me to Amaranthine? You're the only other Warden in Ferelden."

"I'm afraid not," he replied. "A message from the Chamberlain has informed me that I will be stationed in Montsimmard, as soon as reinforcements from Weisshaupt arrive. It seems I cannot be trusted to remain in Ferelden—they believe I will interfere."

"So they send you to Orlais?" Arais was puzzled. "That seems a little extreme."

"I can't say I blame them, personally." He shrugged. "As it is, I am confident that I'm leaving Ferelden in good hands"—he bowed his head—"Commander. It has been an honor to serve with you, these past months."

Arais frowned. "Does Anora know, yet?"

"I haven't had the opportunity to tell her. I think it would be best to wait until after the coronation; there's no sense in dampening her spirits when she should be celebrating." He motioned toward where Anora stood, chatting amiably with a man with medium length brown hair and a handsome grin. "Perhaps we should rejoin them?"

Arais nodded, and followed Loghain. Anora was caught up in her conversation, and it was Isolde who noticed them approach. "Fergus, have you met the Warden-Commander?"

The man who had been speaking with Anora turned to Arais. "No, I have not, though I have been eager to do so." He bowed his head in greeting. "Fergus Cousland."

"Arais Amell," she replied, and she bowed her head, as well. "A pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, Commander." Though he smiled, his eyes were pained. "Now may not be the most appropriate timing for this, but I cannot pass up the chance to thank you."

"Thank me?"

"Fergus is the Teyrn of Highever." Anora placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Rendon Howe was responsible for the deaths of the Cousland family."

"I only survived because I had left for Ostagar before Howe's troops arrived. I didn't even learn of what had happened until many months later. I was nearly killed, and a tribe of Chasind took me in until I could recover from my injuries. " His jaw visibly clenched. "I returned to Highever, only to be told by a villager that my parents, my wife, and my child . . . were all dead and Howe had usurped the teyrnir. The villager hid me until nightfall, so I could escape unseen. Not long after, I heard rumors from Denerim that Howe was dead, and the darkspawn were marching on the capital.

"A great many of us owe you, Commander. If ever you need allies, the troops at Highever will be at your disposal."

Arais nodded, but had no idea what to say in response. She had heard rumors of a noble family that had been murdered, but she had forgotten the name, and any efforts to inquire into the affair were swiftly brushed aside. It made sense now that they were only protecting themselves from the same thing happening to them—Maker only knew what Rendon Howe had been willing to do for the sake of a title.

"Your Majesty." The seneschal approached the queen, his hands clasped at his back. "Shall I ask the minstrels to begin playing?"

"Of course, Einsley."

The seneschal left to seek out the musicians, and Fergus turned to Anora almost immediately. "Milady?" he said, holding out his hand to the queen. She chuckled, and her cheeks turned pink as she placed her hand in his, and he led her into the center of the room. The music started—a quick, lively tune—and they moved gracefully together across the floor. Soon, other couples began to trickle onto the dance floor.

The dance was slow and elegant, and, despite the large number of couples on the dance floor, each pair glided along effortlessly. Just as they seemed to come too close to another couple, and would collide, they spun out of harm's way. It was complex and intricate, and as Arais watched, anxiety gripped her.

Maker, she hoped no one asked her to dance.

She excused herself from Isolde and Loghain, who stood silently and watched the couples dance. Arais wondered briefly if they would be all right, considering the circumstances. If there truly was a problem, though, neither was the type to cause a scene, so she was certain any emotional outbursts would be kept in check.

She gazed around the room, but couldn't spot a single, familiar face among the crowd. Finally, as she pushed toward the door, she saw Sten, Oghren, and Zevran engaged in conversation.

"Oh, thank the Maker."

"Are you all right?" Zevran asked, though he seemed more amused by her declaration than concerned. "Trying to escape unwanted suitors?"

"No, that's not it." She sidled up beside Zevran, out of eyeshot of most of the nobles. "I'm just . . . not much of a dancer. I'd rather not be asked and embarrass myself by either saying no or failing miserably." She glanced back at Isolde to see the arless was being led to the dance floor by Teagan. He wore formal attire in the colors she had seen on the Redcliffe heraldry, and he looked . . . handsome. She felt her cheeks grow warm, and she looked away.

"Dancing is not so hard. I could show you, if you like?" Zevran lifted an eyebrow when she turned back. Had he caught her staring? "I'm certain you will do splendidly."

She wanted to say no, but this was Zevran. If she were terrible, he would be the last person to hold it against her.

"Okay." She took the hand he offered, and followed him to where the nobles wove among one another. "I warn you, though, I'm not very coordinated."

"Considering how gracefully you twirl your staff when you cast a spell, I find it hard to believe that." He squeezed them into the crowd of nobles on the dance floor, between two couples Arais didn't recognize at all. How many nobles were there in Ferelden, anyway? There hadn't been this many at the Landsmeet.

"Magic is more about concentration and focus, and being quick about it. After a while, the staff practically moves itself."

She tripped over her own foot and stumbled forward, but Zevran caught her. "Dancing is not much different."

He cringed when she stepped forward too soon, onto his booted foot. "Sorry!"

"Arais, you need to relax. And let me lead"—he gave her a sly smile—"just this once. Don't look down—keep your eyes on mine. Trust me."

She nodded, and forced her gaze to his, and kept it there. He spun her about the dance floor, and, occasionally, lifted her when it was called for. The longer they moved together, the more she began to feel the tension release. Every once in a while, she would lose her footing, but it became less noticeable. She was by no means an expert, but by the end of their second dance, she was beginning to get the hang of . . . well, not hurting him.

As the musicians began to play again, her mind meandered back to the coronation, and reminded her of a thought she'd had. "Zevran, do you remember the conversation we had, after the Landsmeet?"

"Quite well, yes." He lifted his brows, curious. "What about it?"

"You know how I said that I would think about your offer? To find Alistair?" She looked down, and took a breath. "I think now would be a good time to do so. If you still think it's a good idea?"

"Of course." He eyed her, and there was concern in his amber depths. "What brought this about, if you don't mind my asking?"

Teagan spun past with Isolde, and both seemed to be enjoying themselves. She watched until they were out of earshot. "Closure, perhaps. If he's alive, he might be willing to return to the Wardens. I really don't know."

"I will get in touch with my contacts as soon as I possibly can," he said. The song ended, and they applauded along with the other couples. "If that is truly what you wish."

"It is." Before the minstrels could strike up another song, she pulled him off the dance floor, back to where Sten and Oghren stood, silent. "I think that's enough dancing for now."

"If you say so," he laughed.

"I do." They exchanged a significant look, and she hugged him. "Thank you, Zevran."

He nodded. "And may I say how quickly you improved as a dancer? Though you look so lovely tonight, it would surprise me if any man even noticed you step on his foot while he danced with you."

She blushed, and turned to the Qunari. His mouth was set more firmly in a line than was usual, and he seemed contemplative. "Is there something on your mind, Sten?"

"These people . . . they call you 'hero.'" He looked down at her. "But I think I understand its meaning. The arishok on occasion has declared a Qunari to be qunoran vehl, one who serves as an example to others. Such examples are always made after their death, however; a death in service to the Qun. A living qunoran vehl would be too proud."

"That sounds like the paragons," Oghren said. "Except we name paragons for what they do in life, too. Branka invented a smokeless coal when she had barely come of age. Saved a lot of lives with that."

"Then you understand what I mean when I say they become too proud."

Oghren puffed up indignantly, but Arais moved on before he could speak. "Do the Qunari celebrate these qunoran vehl?" she asked.

"When one is declared, certainly. It is one of few occasions when the Qunari are permitted to engage in . . . revelry. There is imbibing of spirits, public chanting, meditations abandoned . . ." He seemed to almost smile, and just the slightest amount of mirth threaded into his voice. "It is madness."

"That sounds like quite a sight," Zevran remarked, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

"It is . . . interesting. It can take days for the Ben-Hassrath to restore order. There may even be executions."

"And that sounds more like the Qunari." Sten gave Zevran an intimidating look, and the elf held up his hands. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to offend."

Sten harrumphed, hardly convinced, and focused on Arais. "I suppose I should tell you . . . I have decided to return to my people. Your quest is done, and thus so is my reason for accompanying you."

"And here I was just starting to get used to you."

Arais choked back a laugh. "Zevran!" she cried.

Zevran shrugged. "It is the truth."

"You're impossible," she said, and gave him a small smile. She turned back to Sten. "That will be a long trip home, won't it?"

"Yes. It will be difficult to travel alone after so much time spent with companions."

"I could go with you," Zevran suggested, and Sten wrinkled his brow, bemused. "No, really. I will likely be headed that way myself, and it will be tedious doing all of that traveling by myself." He winked at Arais, and she forced herself not to roll her eyes. He really was impossible.

"If I were to say no, would you pester me about it for the rest of the evening?" the Qunari asked.

"That is very likely, yes."

"Then you may join me." Sten shot the elf a menacing glare. "But I will throw you overboard if you insist on talking the entire trip."

Zevran nodded, a mock-serious look on his face. "Duly noted."

Arais couldn't help but laugh at the exchange, and for a moment, it seemed as though Sten's expression softened just the slightest bit, but that could easily have been her imagination. Still, he didn't come off quite as disgruntled as he normally did, and she wondered if he was truly as loathe to travel with Zevran as he presented himself to be.

They continued to speak among themselves, and Zevran filled Sten in on his plan to return to the Pearl where they had met Isabela, to investigate a personal matter before they departed from Denerim. Oghren told them the news of his commission with the Fereldan army. That a dwarf was to join the ranks of humans as something other than a mascot came as a surprise to him, but he seemed to find a greater purpose in the idea of fighting under a banner again, even if it was a human one. Perhaps that was why he seemed less belligerently drunk than usual—he was still rowdier than most of the others who were drinking, but the fact that he was still standing so many hours later said much.

Zevran looked over Arais' shoulder some time later, and he smirked. "It seems as if you will no longer be able to outrun those suitors, carina." She cast a glance behind her, and when she saw Teagan approaching, her cheeks immediately began to burn. "My, my, are you blushing, Arais?"

"Quiet, Zevran," she snapped, though her hand reached up to touch her cheek. Maker, could he really tell?

A knowing smile played on Zevran's lips. "Hello, Bann Teagan," he said, and bowed.

"Zevran." Teagan stepped up beside Arais and returned the bow, and nodded to the others in turn. Oghren grunted, though somehow he managed to make it sound polite, and Sten simply stared. Neither seemed to faze Teagan in the slightest. "I trust you all are enjoying yourselves?"

"Of course," Arais said, possibly too quickly, and she dropped her hand to her side as she realized she would draw attention to her face if she did not.

"Indeed." Zevran folded his arms across his chest. "I taught our lovely Warden Commander how to dance, which was an interesting experience. One that I would definitely suggest, should you be so inclined."

Arais stared at the elf, wide-eyed.

"It seems you come highly recommended as a partner," Teagan said, and turned to her. "Would you care to dance?"

"I—yes. Of course." She took the hand he offered, and as they walked to the dance floor, she cast a glare back at Zevran.

All he did was wink and mouth the word, "relax" in response, and she shook her head.

"Is something the matter?" Teagan asked as they reached the dance floor.

"No, no, everything is fine." Just a meddlesome elf sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, she added silently. "Have you been having a good time?" she asked in an attempt to take the focus off of her.

"In all honesty, it has been difficult to focus on the festivities."

She furrowed her brow and frowned. "I suppose it's my turn to ask if something is wrong?"

"Not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact." He smiled. "I'm simply relieved at the prospect of seeing Connor again."

"Of course."

The minstrels began to play, a slower song than she was expecting. He took one of her hands in his, and the other firmly held her waist; she could feel the warmth of his palm through the layers of silk, and immediately the blood rushed to her cheeks.

"I am sure you've heard more than your fair share of thank yous this evening," he began, "but I hope you'll allow me just one more. For giving Isolde something to truly celebrate. Life has not been kind to her, as of late."

"Yes, she told Anora and I about Eamon." Arais looked down for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was low, to avoid being overheard. "To be honest, I'm not wholly surprised. She came to me the morning after I arrived in Redcliffe to apologize for his behavior, and she just seemed so unhappy."

"This has been a long time coming, there is no doubt about that," he agreed, his voice equally low. "I just wish my brother had been able to see reason." They were silent for a moment. "For someone who just recently learned to dance, you're quite good at it," he said, and he spun her once before she was able to face him, his hand returning to her waist.

She laughed. "Hardly. You're lucky, though. It's a wonder Zevran isn't limping, for all the times I stepped on his feet."

"We have all experienced the agony of teaching, and the embarrassment of learning." The song ended, and they applauded. It seemed almost tedious, having to clap for the end of every song, but no one seemed to mind. "If it's any consolation, you are far better than I was, at first. You joke, but my poor sister could hardly walk after my first few lessons." His eyes. "Rowan was a wonderful teacher, though."

"I can tell," she said, unthinkingly, and hurried to cover herself. "You don't talk about your sister very much."

"I suppose I don't. It has been many years since she passed." Another song began, faster this time, and they fell into the step easily. He really was an incredible partner. "Our father was killed during the Occupation, and I spent most of my childhood in the Free Marches with Eamon. He left as soon as he turned eighteen to join the fight, and I was left with no word of what had happened to either my brother or my sister.

"After the Orlesians were driven out, Rowan brought me back to Ferelden and raised me at court. Eamon was barely eighteen, and not ready to be arl by any stretch of the imagination, so she was responsible for both helping Eamon with Redcliffe and helping Maric with matters of the crown. And there was also the controversy surrounding Eamon's marriage to Isolde barely a year later, for which she took a lot of grief.

"She was a powerhouse, and handled it with all the grace of a proper queen. Sometimes I wonder, though, if all she was forced to deal with was what led to the rapid decline in her health. I had just been named bann of Rainesfere when she passed away." His eyes grew distant, and he nearly missed the timing for a lift.

They were silent for the remainder of the dance, and when the music faded, neither applauded. Rather, they left the dance floor, and he led her into the hall, and outside into the garden. The chill in the air was kept at bay by a number of fires lit along the pathway, though it was a wonder nothing caught fire. Perhaps there were protective enchantments; she hardly knew for sure one way or the other, though she felt the tingle of magic on the edge of her consciousness.

"I apologize." Teagan stopped beside one of the fires, and turned to face her. A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Talking about my sister is not easy, particularly under the current circumstances."

"There's no need to apologize—I understand," Arais said, her voice soft, and she squeezed his hand to offer comfort. "Your sister must have been an incredible woman."

"She was. In a lot of way, you remind me of her." He was quiet, his eyes contemplative. "Do you have any siblings?"

"I do—a sister and a brother."

"What are they like?" he asked, and his tone suggested he was genuinely curious.

"They're twins, and both mages, like myself." She inhaled deeply, and the crisp scent of late fall set her at ease. "They were barely four years old when I was taken away, but I remember Seona being a troublemaker: the opposite of Ayden, actually. He was always very quiet, and kept to himself more often than not."

"You said they were mages—do you know where they were taken?"

"I do, but only from letters from my parents. They were nobles, and likely found a way to send them in secret, though I suspect Thrask had something to do with it." She paused. It was remarkably easy to speak of her siblings with Teagan; not nearly as upsetting as she had found it to be in the past. "Seona is in Starkhaven, and Ayden in Ostwick." She stared beyond him into the garden, at nothing in particular. "Perhaps I can visit them, one day, now that I'm free to leave, but with all the new responsibilities I've been given, I don't know if that would even be possible."

He reached up to tuck a strand of hair that had fallen loose from the pins behind her ear. "There will be time for that, if you wish it. Nobles are not confined to their lands until a Landsmeet is called, after all."

"That—That isn't what I meant," she said. "I only meant that I'm going to need time to adjust, and Maker only knows how long that will take. I don't know the first thing about being an arlessa."

"Anora will likely appoint you a seneschal to assist you in political matters." He took her hand. "But, if you would be more comfortable, I would be more than glad to help."

She gave him the tiniest smile. "I appreciate the offer, but didn't you say Eamon might be stepping down as arl?"

"I did, indeed." He pursed his lips, though his eyes showed it wasn't so much out of annoyance as it was out of . . . something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Frustration, maybe? She wasn't sure. "And, not long after Isolde decided to leave, he made the decision final. Anora knows Eamon is stepping down, but is keeping it from the other nobles until Eamon is ready to announce it officially."

"Did he not think his reputation would recover, if Isolde left him?"

"Very likely, that is the case." That explained why Anora wasn't entirely surprised by Isolde's revelation. "As I said, Eamon's choice of bride was never well received, and he only recovered as well as he did because Isolde turned out to be popular with the people."

Again, she took his hand. "Are you okay with all of this? You seem worried."

"I was prepared for becoming arl one day. Eamon has not been well, as I told you, and this was already discussed at great length." He sighed. "But I don't know how well he will take all of this, once it settles in that his wife left him and he will have limited access to his son."

She found it difficult to feel any sympathy for Eamon, but, for Teagan's sake, she tried. "Perhaps being able to see Connor at all will offer him a sort of comfort?"

"I can only hope it will."

There was a long silence between them. "For what it's worth," she began, slowly, as she tried to find the right words, "you have done enough to help me in the past year that I truly believe you will figure out a way to help Eamon through his struggles. I have seen how you inspire hope in the people under your brother's rule, and I wouldn't have been able to get through that last night before we marched on Denerim if it hadn't been for you." She touched the tips of her fingers to his cheek, a soft smile on her lips. "There isn't a doubt in my mind that you will do the same for your brother."

The corners of his lips twitched upward. "You make it sound incredibly easy."

"Something I learned from you, I expect." Her hand slid down to his chest, and her fingers toyed with his collar. "I do believe it's the truth, though. How could I not? There were a number of things you gave me hope for that night. You didn't just give me the motivation to do what needed to be done to stop the Blight; you helped me feel again. I thought Alistair had taken my heart with him when he left, but . . ." She could feel the tears burning behind her eyes, and she blinked furiously to keep them at bay. "But you showed me that it was still with me, and that I would be free to give it again when I was ready."

"Arais, I . . . had no idea of the extent of your relationship with Alistair. I knew you were close—I could see as much when we first met—but that you were involved romantically never occurred to me."

"We never spoke of it, and even kept it from Eamon. The only person who knew about it outside the companions we traveled with throughout the Blight was Anora, and that's only because she just . . . knew, when we spoke before the Landsmeet. But that hasn't been an issue for a while, now. Like I said, my heart no longer belongs to him.

"Do you remember when you escorted me to my room, the night before we left Redcliffe?" He nodded, but said nothing, and simply allowed her to speak. She shivered as a breeze whispered past. "There was a moment, one that I can never seem to let go, when I thought you might kiss me again; that we might continue what had started in the kitchens. But it didn't, and you left, and at the time, I decided that it was for the best. And, in hindsight, I still think so. It wasn't the right time then. Losing Alistair was still too fresh, too painful, and it wouldn't have been fair to you."

Again, he remained silent, and she pressed on. "But . . . I still regret that I didn't stop you from going, as selfish as that might have been. It's possible it still hasn't been long enough, but I know what I feel, and if I've learned nothing else this year, it's that time is precious. Every moment could be my last, and I shouldn't waste it." She thought of all she had learned today alone. "I'm an arlessa now. It may not be something I'm prepared for, and it may not even be something I truly want, but it means something so much more than a title and land and power to me." She reached out and took his hand, holding it as firmly as he had hers while they danced. "It means I can give you my heart, without complications, and without my magic being the problem it might have been otherwise."

There was a brief moment where she simply stared at their joined hands, waiting for him to say something, anything. Another breeze, another shiver, and just as she began to think that he wouldn't speak, he touched a finger to her chin, and she met his eyes only long enough to see that they were practically glowing before he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her lips. She stepped closer, and her lips moved over his. His hand slid to the back of her neck, and tangled in the hair that hung loose at her back, and his other found the small of her back. It felt so wonderful, so right, and she wove her arms about his waist, pulling him closer to her. His warmth enveloped her so completely, and there was comfort in the feeling of his body flush against hers.

When the kiss ended, she pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, and she could feel the nerves bubbling in the pit of her stomach. "Come to my quarters tonight."

His eyes searched her face. "Are you certain this is what you want?"

"I've never been more sure of anything." Despite her ever-present self-consciousness, she held his gaze. She wanted this, more than she'd wanted anything else. "Will you come?"

"There is nothing I could possibly want more." His hands came up to cup her cheeks, and he kissed her, an urgent meeting of the lips that left her breathless. When he pulled away, he leaned his forehead against hers. "How will I find your room?"

She thought for a moment, and remembered the only thing she still carried from the Blight. "I can leave a rose on the torch holder just outside my room."

He nodded, and looked back toward the entrance to the royal estate. "I expect our absence has been noticed, by now."

"You're right." She stepped back, and used her thumb to brush away the lip paint that had transferred to his lips. "Perhaps we should go in separately, so as not to draw attention to ourselves?"

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips, and walked beside her in silence until they stood outside the ballroom. He allowed her to enter first, and they parted ways. She wove through the crowd until she found her companions, now joined by Leliana. The bard looked flushed, and Arais suspected that her friend had not been without a dance partner for the whole of the evening.

"Arais!" A wide smile crinkled the corners of Leliana's eyes. "Where have you been?"

"I was speaking with Bann Teagan, about his nephew," she lied.

Zevran smirked. "I suspect you were doing more than talking, dear Warden." He gestured to her face. "Your lip paint is smudged."

Her cheeks flamed, and she touched a finger to her lips. "Oh, Maker." She turned to Leliana. "Is it really that obvious?"

"It is hardly as noticeable as Zevran implies." The bard eyed Zevran, annoyed, and took Arais' hand. "Come, I can fix it for you."

They left the group and exited the room, and made their way quickly to the guest wing of the castle. Once in her room, Leliana had Arais sit at the vanity, and knelt to go through the drawer to find the lip paint.

As she used a handkerchief to wipe away the smudges, she glanced up at Arais with shameless curiosity. "So, you and Teagan? When did this happen?"

"I—Well, right before the march on Denerim, actually. There were moments since, but I never thought . . . well, before today, it was probable our relationship would not have lasted." She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks again, and told Leliana about her conversation with Teagan, and the decisions she had made regarding their relationship. "I invited him to come back to my room tonight, after the ball."

"Ooh, scandalous!" Leliana said with a sly smile, and lifted the brush to apply fresh paint to Arais's lips. "In all honesty, though, I am glad to hear it. You were so distraught after the Landsmeet. It is good to know you have found someone who will make you happy." She swiped the brush along Arais's bottom lip once last time, and put the makeup away. "There. Much better."

"Thank you, Leliana."

"It was no trouble." She rose to her feet. "Now, let's get back to the festivities. And if you find you need anymore . . . touchups, you know where to find me."