9:27 Dragon, Late Spring
It wasn't every day that a Vael turned nineteen, and it was certainly uncommon for that Vael to take the Oath of Starkhaven at his name day celebration.
She had once asked him what prompted such a grand gesture, and he had replied in his characteristically snarky manner, "Because beautiful girls like you need a champion." Getting a straight answer out of him was exhausting. Still, many of those who had thought poorly of him because of that one night four years ago would likely think differently once he took the Oath. They would be the last of his detractors, however, because Corbinian was quite popular these days, amongst the nobles and commoners alike in addition to the majority of the armed forces. He was a natural leader: clever, eloquent, and always showed the proper respect.
The entirety of Granite Circle had been invited to the ceremony, in addition to some minor lords who held prominent positions with the merchant class. While the future prince's name day celebration had been the most lavish party Samantha had ever attended, this night was coming in a close second.
From the moment she entered the Royal Palace's grand ballroom, she had felt overwhelmed at the pomp, despite how accustomed she was to pageantry. Apparently, it had been too long since the Oath had been taken, because the decorations were egregious. Starkhaven's red and black banners commanded the room from every wall, hanging from ceiling supports and nearly touching the floor. Red cloths with the Starkhaven Seal in the center were draped over every table, and every single candle in the room was either black or red. Whoever designed the decorations at least had the forethought to add touches of gold to each decoration, otherwise this event could be mistaken for a military function.
As for the rest, the party was really just like any other. Tiny pieces of art that were actually food were stacked high upon serving trays that danced upon the fingertips of the servants that snaked through the room. There must have been more than fifty servants with their trays held high above their heads. Three passed Samantha within minutes of her entrance, but she still had to be quick to snatch a glass of spirits.
The colors of fashion had not been so restricted, though many revelers apparently felt it right to dress in accordance with tradition. Half of the ladies in the room wore red velvet and black satin. Lord Garrity was wearing a red velvet doublet over his enormous belly, and every time he went to scratch his whiskers the black piping along the arms crunched, as though the garment came from the Towers Age.
Samantha had ordered her dress's fashion plate from Antiva for this night. The fashions of the northern regions were not the most popular, but she had become enamored with one in particular. It was deep yellow and, in the right light, the golden beads that were stitched across the sleeveless silk bodice sparkled. The back of the dress laced up with a thick length of silk and showed a v-patch of skin down her back, which was a little risqué. Between the golden chains in her hair and Corbinian's grandmother Meghan's locket on her collarbone, Samantha felt a little out of place.
It was easy enough to slink away from her parents, for once around nobles, their attentions were drawn to making their own achievements known – namely, that their daughter was attached to royalty. Bringing her wine glass to her lips, Samantha scanned the room for familiar faces, finally spotting Flora's back draped in silken black.
She was talking to a tall boy, fair of skin, and though he couldn't remove his eyes from her, she seemed entirely bored. Flora looked up to him only to turn away disinterestedly, lifting her chin over her shoulder to check the guests. Samantha caught Flora's eye, raising a brow at this pasty boy, and Flora barely excused herself as she hurried away. The boy looked disappointed.
The pair met somewhere near the center, reaching for each other's hands, and Samantha held herself away to get a good look. Flora's dress was all silk with lavender sprigs decorating her hair. When she smiled, there was only one way to describe her.
"Flora, you look lovely!"
"Me?" Flora gave her exaggerated gawk. "Look at you! Holy Maker in the Fade – you look amazing!"
"You're yelling." Samantha said, laughing.
"Oh, sorry." She covered her mouth, though between the music and the conversations echoing off the high-ceiling, no one likely heard her. "I've had two glasses of sparkling wine already, and you have to try those little apple quiches. Maferath would have kept Andraste had she learned to make them."
"Oh, right. That's what Andraste's great crime was – she couldn't cook."
"Well, he was a barbarian. I bet he ate nothing but berries and dried beef."
"Maybe that's why he gave her up – poor nutrition," Samantha joked and Flora rolled her eyes. "And he repented because—"
"Because everyone repents when facing the spear." Flora tossed back her drink, but she wasn't laughing. Instead, she had focused a very serious look across the room.
Samantha followed her gaze to find her friend's mother, Lady Johane, standing stiffly not far away. When she and Samantha met gazes, Lady Johane looked away, her expression softening as she smiled at someone else in conversation.
Glancing at her friend, she wondered if there was a familial rift, but didn't want to press matters at a social gathering. Thankfully, Samantha didn't have to fill the silence, because as a group move away from them, opening up a space in the crowd, Flora's pout came to an abrupt halt, her eyes fixed at some point in the distance. "Andraste have mercy…"
Samantha saw her, too. Arianna Marziano was wearing one of the strangest dresses she had ever seen. Long and slender, the blood-red lace dress hugged her body, crawled up her neck to the base of her skull, and then fanned out wildly. She had cut the front of her yellow-gold hair for the occasion as well, styled to hang thickly over her eyes.
Samantha hesitated. "Well… she looks…"
"Like a witch of the wilds?" Flora finished.
"I'm glad you said it first."
Both burst into giggles, and from somewhere behind them, they heard Lord Kendall shout what to someone. Samantha smiled to herself, wondering about Corbinian. She turned, looking for his Vael-auburn hair and those shoulders she knew so well, but the enormous ballroom was filled with people much taller than her. Instead of finding the man she most desired, her eyes met the man she had decided to despise: the Knight Commander of Starkhaven.
When he smiled warmly, Samantha felt distinctly uncomfortable.
She linked her arm through Flora's. "Let's take a turn about the room."
The pair strolled through casually, whispering about the ridiculous dramas infecting the families of Starkhaven. Lady Fortney was standing with her son Robaire; nearly as tall as his older sister Gwendolyn now, though the girl was still skinny as a post. The trio was chatting with the Lord and Lady Tyler, and Vincent stood at their side, strangely alone.
"Where's Helena?" Samantha asked.
Flora lowered her voice, leaning to Samantha's ear. "Top secret – apparently, Helena is dating a Templar."
"A Templar?" The daughter of a noble family waist deep in gold was dating a penniless Templar? The girl that would have been matched with Innley was dating a Templar? The word Templar kept ringing through her head, but Samantha just said, "Is she trying to make her parents mad or something? Getting back at them?"
"Probably. I'll bet you a hundred sovereigns that's where she is right now. This party is really the perfect cover for a secret rendezvous." She sipped her drink artfully.
Samantha waved at Lady Preston who smiled at Samantha's passing. "So that's why Lady Fortney is introducing her daughter to Vincent…?"
"Yes." Flora sighed. "Gwendolyn isn't exactly drawing a line of suitors. I think her parents are worried that her health will prevent a match."
Samantha glanced at the girl. "Can't the alchemists make her something?"
"You mean use magic?" Flora replied sardonically, her expression exaggerated.
Samantha smirked; it seemed ridiculous that so many would spurn all advances in modern magical medicine, simply because the stigma associated with magic and mages. Her gaze drifted back to the room only to find the eyes of the Knight Commander, which were like beady black dots, focused squarely on her. She absentmindedly huffed in irritation.
"What?" Flora asked.
Samantha turned so she wasn't facing him, hoping to hide that she was speaking of him. "The Knight Commander. He's watching me. I think he knows that I visit Innley, but I don't care how strongly he tries to intimidate me. Innley seems to be happier every time I see him. Oh, Flora, you wouldn't recognize him in that dress they make him wear, but he has grown into a man – a mage, but a man. He's so handsome, too. I bet half of Starkhaven's girls would have looked at him like—"
"Like the way the Knight Commander is looking at you?" Flora was openly staring at the Templar, who was wearing his plain Templar suit and his plain Templar vest.
"You caught that, too?" Samantha shuddered. "It's frightening."
"Yes. Yes, it is." She didn't need further convincing. "Speaking of… my mother actually mentioned Goran Vael the other day. I swear to the Maker, she is driving me mad with this."
She could see plainly how Flora's mother was grating on her friend's last nerve. "You know, if you faked an interest in Goran, you might be able to convince your mother to let you stay with me this summer. Maybe it will buy you a reprieve."
"I don't think I can fake that," Flora replied glumly. "Besides, she always knows when I lie." Samantha knew that feeling, and smiled at her friend with compassion. Flora smiled back sadly, pulling her further away from scrying ears."She's made me... offers. To... you know..." She flung her wrists as if the rest of that statement was obvious, but huffed when Samantha shook her head in confusion. "She wants me to marry him."
Samantha nearly coughed up her wine, covering her mouth as she worked to control her laughter, but Flora wasn't laughing; she was dead serious. "You're not joking?" When Flora shook her head, Samantha calmed, turning thoughtful. "She is adamant, isn't she?"
"She thinks I should marry royalty. Corbinian and the other prince's are taken... So..." Flora looked away, her eyes surveying the room, and acting like they were discussing mundane things. The weather, fashions, food; but Samantha could see how deeply troubled she was.
While Samantha was certainly no fan of pleasing her own mother, she wondered if Flora stubbornness about Goran came from a similar place. The last time Samantha had mentioned him, Flora had stuck her tongue out in disgust, but she wondered if Flora would ever consider him. What if he grew to be a handsome man? He was no scholar, but he wasn't a slouch, either. It was unfortunate, because he wasn't like everyone thought he was.
Normally, she would never press her friend over matters of the heart - Flora was as secretive as a sealed envelope - but the wine and her friend's distress made her wonder... Samantha asked, "Since my sixteenth name day, have you spoken to Goran?"
"Hessarian's Poisoned Spear! No!" Flora nearly dropped her wine glass. "I would sooner speak to an elf."
Samantha shook her head, chuckling softly. "You might give him another shot. He's not so—"
"Don't even say it." Flora cut her off, her eyes closed in obstinacy. "Goran is a fool. A dim-witted, clumsy, fat fool. I swear to Andraste, sitting beside the Maker himself, I am not interested in Goran, and I never will be. Ever."
"Well," Samantha said reproachfully. "That was dramatic."
"Obviously, you can't tell Corbinian I said that."
"I won't breathe a word," Samantha promised ruefully.
"Breathe a word about what?" Corbinian's jovial voice floated over their heads from behind, and Flora jumped.
"Maker's breath!" She exhaled loudly. "You're always sneaking up on us!"
When Samantha turned around, she was a little taken aback. He was dressed in a very formal suit; pitch black with the Starkhaven Royal Seal on the lapel, but his vest was gold, just like her dress. He gave her one of his smiles, the kind that was meant to disarm and it always worked.
In one of his hands, he held two glasses of champagne, which he handed over. "It's a talent. I could teach it to Goran if you like."
"And I could kick you in the shins if you like." Flora smiled sweetly.
Corbinian smirked at Flora, but reached for Samantha's hand in a gentlemanly greeting. "Nice necklace."
"Nice vest."
"Your mother," he explained, rubbing his forefinger against the fabric of his tunic. "She wanted us to match."
"Matching is her hobby." She was a little distracted by his hair, remembering the way it felt underneath her hands only a few days prior.
"Aside from enjoying celebrity," Flora added while waving to Lady Mayweather, who was watching the trio with a large group of noblewomen surrounding her. "Beenie, you've created a monster."
"If that's a monster, then this night will likely create an archdemon." Corbinian tossed back his champagne and winked at Samantha.
She could have snuck him away right then; they had been together half a dozen times since, and each time was more satisfying than the last. There was something extremely sensual about standing near him in a crowded room, looking into his eyes, and seeing that he was thinking of her intimately. It was their secret. The latest in a lifetime.
"That title might be reserved for another. I thought this was going to make her head explode." Flora pointed to the locket around Samantha's neck. "Aside from not being invited to your little soirée where you made your…" She waved her hand around between them. "…arrangement official."
Samantha laughed. "And thank the Maker for that! It was weird enough having twelve people in a room planning how many babies I'm going to have."
"If I remember correctly, they're all going to be boys," Corbinian added thoughtfully.
Flora nearly spit up her drink as she laughed, and Samantha looked to her plaintively. "You sure you won't consider Goran? I mean, look at how appealing the whole process is!"
Flora rolled her eyes, taking a long drink. "So now that you've got the details sorted, when's the announcement?"
Corbinian smiled mischievously and Samantha gave a playful shrug. "My father is probably courting offer sheets in his off-time. I'm quite the prize, you know. Not everyone can produce only sons."
Flora finally smiled at the pair, but then her eyes got caught over Samantha's shoulder. Standing near the Harimanns' table, her brother Ruxton and her father were chatting up a storm with, of all people, Goran Vael. The conversation seemed quite serious.
"Oh for the love of Andraste! Excuse me." Flora walked off in the direction of Benjamin Garrity, who was glowering at Arianna.
"Where is she going?" Corbinian asked, but Samantha just shrugged, alternating her attention between Flora and Lord Harimann.
When Flora arrived at Benjamin, she slipped her arm in his, laughing like he had just said the most amusing thing ever. Benjamin smiled back crookedly, a little perplexed at her sudden affection, but Samantha and Corbinian understood. They recognized the looks on Goran's and Lord Harimann's faces when they spotted Flora's gaiety with another. It was obvious that she was trying to show interest in someone else, to suggest she had no interest in Goran.
"Lucky for me you weren't so difficult." Corbinian ran the back of his forefinger down the back of Samantha's neck, sending shivers down her spine.
She whirled around, grinning happily. "Beenie! You naughty boy…"
And then the gong sounded, loud and echoing, which made everyone in the room start; all two hundred of them.
"Ladies and Gentleman…" Prince Vael's voice commanded the room's attention, and he always got whatever he commanded. "Thank you for coming. It is my honor to host the citizens of Starkhaven on this momentous occasion. It is also my honor to swear the son of my brother, my nephew, Marquess Corbinian Vael, into the service of our great city with the Oath of Starkhaven, which he will heed all his life, and is only breakable by death." All eyes turned back to Corbinian who was dutifully watching his uncle speak, with Samantha at his side, trying very hard to look perfunctory.
Corbinian turned to Samantha, lifting the back of her hand to his lips, and he winked at her before he left her there, casually making his way to the stage where the Prince of Starkhaven waited with the Grand Cleric, the First Enchanter, and the Knight Commander all lined up in a row. At their meeting, he shook his uncle's hand as the royal flag of Starkhaven dropped down from the ceiling behind them.
A hush came over the room when Corbinian dropped to his knee, and someone appeared behind the prince, handing him a sword with a sash of red silk wrapped around the hilt. The prince gripped the hilt with one hand and pulled the blade from the scabbard, its brilliance shimmering under the light. Obviously enhanced with magic – for magic is meant to serve man – the sword had been especially forged for Corbinian to be wielded in defense of Starkhaven. The prince flipped the sword around and brought it down into the stage, the point sticking easily into the wood directly between them, the prince standing above, and Corbinian kneeling below.
The prince said loudly, "You wish to swear the Oath of Starkhaven?"
"Yes, Your Highness," Corbinian said automatically.
"Then rise and make your pledge."
Corbinian stood up tall, the same height as the prince. He spoke carefully. "I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely give my life to the citizens and the city of Starkhaven; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I will bear arms on behalf of the city of Starkhaven when necessary and without reservation; that I will perform work of importance under Chantry direction when required by the law; that my life will not supersede the welfare of Starkhaven; that my death is the only release from this oath; and that I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion. May the Maker hear my oath and swear me to fealty."
"You are so sworn," the Grand Cleric said.
"You are so sworn," the Knight Commander said.
"You are so sworn," The First Enchanter said.
The prince extended his hand. "You are so sworn."
Corbinian smiled, wide and proud as he accepted the prince's hand. He then grasped the sword's hilt, yanking it from the stage and lifted it above his head. The crowd of nobles cheered, some even whistled and whooped their celebration and approval, and Samantha spied Corbinian's father, who was standing in the crowd swelling with pride.
Corbinian fastened the sword around his waist with the silk sash – it was his sword now – and then shook hands with all of Starkhaven's leaders – even the Knight Commander. After a wave to the crowd, he turned and jumped down from the stage, walking straight to Samantha who had moved to somewhere near the middle, but the orchestra didn't start playing and the people started to murmur as if they didn't understand what was happening next. Maybe it had been too long since the Oath was taken – was there another layer of ceremony? However, it quickly became clear just what was happening, because a small clearing formed around Corbinian and Samantha when he knelt down in front of her.
She suddenly felt a little lightheaded and her mind started to race, doubling over on itself, thinking of her parents and the Vaels and nothing but sons and for a moment she wondered if she would faint. But Corbinian had her hands which fit perfectly within his, and he was smiling when he reached into his pocket – his pockets again! – and then he pulled out a small box. Another small box. It was at that moment that everyone in the room seemed to understand what was coming next.
She should have seen this coming – there was an arrangement made after all. For some reason, she had never expected it would be like this, in front of everyone, on this night which was supposed to be in celebration of Corbinian. Looking into his eyes, she now understood why he had chosen this night. It was clear that he was enjoying her reaction – and he was still a cheeky bastard.
"Samantha Mayweather," he started, opening up the box to reveal a ring, extravagant yet not gaudy: it was a band of diamonds, pristine and clear, a wheel of decadence that he slipped onto her finger. "The Chant of Light says that we are all the work of the Maker's hand, but when he made me, he made me for you, and when he made you, he made you for me."
If she had wondered what could upstage the Oath of Starkhaven, well, this was apparently it, because some of the noblewomen in the crowd gasped. One even fainted.
His eyes were smiling, as if he knew how this was playing out around the room. "It would be my honor if, on this night, you would agree to marry me."
It was one of those storybook moments, one the bards would sing about if they ever told this story, because the crowd fell utterly silent, standing on the tips of their toes, leaning into the intimacy, waiting for the answer that everyone knew was coming. When she gave her assent, quietly, and nodding for her voice couldn't sustain much in the gravity of the occassion, he rose up and kissed her on the cheek while the symphony added to the ambiance. The voices rose in appreciation and Samantha's father and mother were there in an instant, shaking hands and giving hugs, and then Corbinian's family took their turns and Samantha wished that Innley were there to celebrate as well.
The pair was joined for the rest of the evening, mostly dancing, as that was really the only time they weren't shaking hands or suffering hugs and kisses from their respective new families.
Corbinian pressed the opportunity for all he could, their bodies almost touching, his palms spread wide on her back, the tips of his fingers between the laces of her dress, brushing her bare skin.
"Have I told you that you look lovely?" he asked quietly.
"Wait until you see what else I am wearing…"
Corbinian smiled with an eyeful of secrets. "Well, aren't we both just full of surprises today."
"I think yours outdo mine." She was certain that he could feel her breathing.
"I'll be the judge of that. Might be determinant on the color."
She didn't hesitate when she said, "Red."
He didn't blink, but his fingers moved across her skin as he exhaled a whisper, "I want to do undo these laces."
She didn't blink either, running her fingers through the edge of his hairline. "Right here? With everyone watching?"
"There are other places than here."
Samantha sucked on her bottom lip. "And what would we do in these other places?"
He kept his expression controlled but his eyes glanced down the length of her dress, and she imagined he was envisioning what was beneath. "I would kiss your lips, and your neck, and then I would pull down your dress…" His voice lowered to a hush. "…and keep going…"
It was like they were making love right there on the dance floor as her body reacted to his sensual words and simple movements, and for just a moment, she had to close her eyes.
"Did you have someplace in mind?" she whispered.
"Follow my lead," he whispered back.
He kept his fingers on her back as he led her across the room to the bar where they both took a glass of wine and smiled at guests, though she was certain her face was flushed. She noted that his ears were flushed, but tried not to look or smile about it. He then excused himself, disappearing for a few moments before the symphony stopped and started again, this time playing a very popular song that inspired everyone to move to the dance floor in groups. The clapping started, hands in the air, and it was the perfect cover for the couple to find their escape.
Better than an Antivan Crow, Corbinian slipped them both out of the ballroom without notice, leading her through a series of hallways, each darker than the last, until they finally went through a single door into a darkened room – the spare library. No sooner had he softly closed the door and turned the lock, than he pressed Samantha back up against the bookcase.
His mouth came to hers and she removed his jacket from his shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor at their feet as his hands worked their way to the silk laces on her back. She untied the sash around his waist, and his new sword sheathed inside the scabbard fell against the bookcase with a thud as the stale air slipped into her dress at her own laces loosening. Warm and welcome, his breath greeted her neck when the first boom sounded.
Neither seemed to hear it as she fumbled with his vest, and his hands moved around her waist. Sightlessly, she unclasped his belt as he lowered her dress to her ankles just before the second boom sounded, muffled and far away and she mumbled, "Are those fireworks?"
"Mmm," he hummed into her neck, one of his hands holding her steady and the other on her hip, a finger finding the space between her hipbone and her red underwear.
And that's when they heard the scream.
They stopped in an instant, a bit breathless and confused and he looked at her before they both caught the flashes out of the window. That was when the third boom sounded and they could see far off into the distance a great fireball erupt from the roof of the Starkhaven Circle.
Samantha was stunned into wide-eyed silence as they stared out of the window, their bodies together but the fires between them quickly doused by the flames that licked the sky.
After a moment, Corbinian whispered, "I have to go."
"What?" She turned to see a faraway look in his eyes.
"I have to go," he said a bit more resolutely. "I took the Oath. I have to go."
"But… Beenie…?" She suddenly felt very afraid as he pulled up his pants, refastening his belt buckle with deft hands. She gasped out the word wait; things were moving too quickly! He was going where? To the Circle? To the fireball? What was he walking into?
"Don't worry." He spun around to find his jacket, his mind clearly elsewhere now, shrugging the garment onto his shoulders, refastening his sword back onto his belt, but he turned back to see her still unclothed, frightened and overwhelmed against the bookcase. He lifted her dress back up over her body, retying her laces, and she shivered, glancing between him and the Circle through the window where a thick funnel of black smoke was now rising.
He gently took her shoulders. "Wait for me here. At the palace." But she was staring out the window, where the white Circle Tower looked black against a dark sky— "Hey!" He got her attention, forcing her to look directly into his eyes, even as her own brimmed with frightened tears. "I love you, Sammie."
"I love you, Beenie."
And then he was gone.
She didn't know what to do or where to go. She was alone in a small library, and she had to gather herself together to rejoin the revelers, who all had surely been alerted to the explosion at the Circle. An explosion! Just like Adain! Fear stretched through her like new bones and she didn't want to be alone. Brushing the wet from her eyes and smoothing over her dress, she exited the hallway into a river of citizens who were rushing in every direction. She wanted her father, she wanted Flora – she would have settled for anyone familiar. Who she ran into was Vincent.
"Have you seen my parents?" Samantha asked him.
"No – have you seen mine?"
She shook her head.
"Do you know what's happening?"
"There was an explosion at the Circle," she said, and his expression changed to horror. "I saw a great fireball erupt from the spire."
"The Knight Commander ran out of the party faster than I've seen anyone ever run," he said. "The Grand Cleric and First Enchanter have been taken into protective custody."
"Maker's breath…!"
Flora nearly crashed into her then, breathless and relieved. "Sammie! Thank the Maker!"
They heard some yelling from the ballroom, and Flora tugged on Samantha's arm.
"Ladies! Gentleman!" The yelling continued and the trio squeezed their way through dozens of shoulders into the ballroom. An unfamiliar voice carried through. "The palace is open to you! The Chapel, the sitting room, the library – but you are not allowed to leave. There has been incident at the Circle, and while the guard and Templars get the situation under control, we ask that you stay here and stay calm!"
An incident? That great big fireball didn't look like an incident – it looked like a catastrophe. Murmurs of disapproval erupted throughout the crowd, through Samantha couldn't tell what they were saying.
"That's probably best," Vincent said nervously. "There's no safer place in Starkhaven than the royal palace."
"I need to find my father," Samantha said.
Flora gripped her arm. "We'll find him."
"We'll stay together." Samantha placed her hands in Flora's, and didn't let go.
"I'll escort you." Vincent reached for both of their hands, and they grasped his, grateful for his decisive presence.
Though the palace gates and doors were all locked and under strict guard, all of the lounges and bedrooms were open to anyone who should need to lie down, libraries and studies were available for those wish to distract themselves, and the Chapel was open to all who wanted to pray. That was where Vincent escorted Flora and Samantha, and the latter pair huddled up next to Samantha's father who had his arm around his wife. Lady Mayweather was praying. For some reason, being near her parents made Samantha feel somewhat better, but her nerves were still wrecked.
All she could think of was Corbinian, donning his shining golden armor, drawing his marvelous new sword, charging through the Circle's marble library, descending the spiral to his bloody and gruesome death at the hands of maleficarum. These thoughts were only interspersed with similar thoughts of Innley who would surely join the fight against any renegade mages. Maybe Innley and Corbinian would work together? Or maybe it wasn't renegade mages, maybe it was just a Harrowing gone horribly wrong. Or maybe it was one mage trying to escape, or a small group. Maybe it wasn't as bad as it seemed, but the random explosions that sent sonic waves across the city made everyone jump like some choreographed seizure and the longer everyone waited for word to come back that the Circle was under control, the worse Samantha's imagination got.
She had read about demons. She had read about corrupt mages. The books described them as vicious, devoid of emotion with no respect for life. Demons turned a mage into a heartless killing machine that moved without provocation and felt no remorse for what it did.
Brett and his wife, Ruxton, and the Lord and Lady Harimann entered the Chapel a little while later. The foursome looked quite stoic. Lord Harimann was trying to comfort his wife but her eyes were distant, and Samantha imagined that she was in shock, like so many others. She turned a set of eyes to the Mayweathers, finding Flora in relief.
"Be right back," Flora whispered, rising to greet her family.
More people came and went, prayers were whispered, candles were lit, and weeping women were removed and then returned. The Luxleys came into the Chapel at some point, surveying the faces probably looking for Helena, and from across the room Samantha and Flora exchanged a nervous glance.
At one point, Arianna sat down in the pew next to Samantha, reaching for her hand in fear.
"Why did I wear this?" Arianna whispered. That dress stuck to her body leaving little to the imagination. "I can barely move."
Samantha gripped her friend's hand. "Your dress is very… avant-garde."
Arianna gave an anxious laugh. "Everyone in Orlais is wearing this!" She looked like she might cry, and as she shifted her legs to cross one over the other, the slit up the side of the dress to her thigh was not only risqué, but downright shameless.
"I'm not sure if that trend will catch on here in Starkhaven."
"I wore it for Benji," she admitted. "Scemo plays with me for two years, and I wanted him to see what he was missing."
Ah! So that's why she was dressed like a witch – she was enchanting young Benjamin with jealousy. Such were the games of the daughters and sons of Starkhaven's upper class. Samantha was glad she didn't have to play, for Corbinian's warmth had never dimmed. Like Sebastian, many thought him a scoundrel like all the rest, but his affection for Samantha since his return from Nevarra City had been unwavering, and it seemed as if everyone saw it. When it came to royalty and relationships, most agreed that when a Vael pledged his heart to someone, that someone was a Vael.
"I can't sit here," Arianna whispered restlessly, rising from the pew and exiting the Chapel in haste.
Samantha's parents left the chapel; her mother apparently thought it was her duty to comfort the women of Starkhaven, like the women of the royal family had been doing. The Duchess was patting Lord Kendall's hand, and he seemed confused but relaxed. A man in a long robe with the royal seal of Starkhaven was at his side, listening to his heart through a tube. Samantha tried to imagine what it was like to be old, to live long enough to see everyone she loved die.
Not wanting to be alone, she moved to her best friend, Flora, who gripped Samantha's hand tight. "I should be out there," Flora whispered. "I could help."
"They are mages!" Samantha was truly afraid; she had never felt this kind of fear before and all those stories of Adain that her father had told her about were bubbling on the surface of her memory. "Arrows cannot fight magic."
"Arrows can kill mages and demons just like any other."
"But…" This made no sense to Samantha. Flora was a noble's daughter. Noble's daughters did not don armor and join the fighting unless they reject their family's wealth and nobility and opted instead to join the Royal Army or become Templars or something. And Flora had always made her archery sound like a hobby – not a skill that she would employ to kill people.
"Don't be so old fashioned, Sammie." Flora scolded in a hushed voice. "During the war with the Qunari, nobles and peasants alike took up arms. During the second Blight—"
"Yes, yes, yes!" Samantha hissed; she knew all of this. "But this isn't a Blight and we're not being invaded by murderous heretical giants! These are mages! You may be accustomed to fighting people, but it takes an altogether different kind of method to fight against magic."
Flora thought about that. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I need to work on that."
Flora's stubbornness reared itself, and if Samantha thought her friend was in a bad mood before, she was now disagreeable to a fault. Samantha couldn't believe that Flora was considering this life, but there was no more time to discuss it as Lady Luxley burst into the room, weeping hysterically. Black streaks of makeup ran from her eyes down her cheeks as she collapsed into a pew, her shoulders shaking powerfully. Two women rushed to her side: Lady Tyler, Vincent's mother, and Lady Mayweather. Flora and Samantha sat by helplessly watching her mother whisper words of comfort. When she looked up and saw her daughter, she headed over.
"They found Helena inside the Circle," she whispered gently and Samantha's limbs went limp, feeling her friend grip her hands. "She's gone, darling."
Lady Luxley wailed, cutting into the silence that now seemed louder than her cries of sorrow. Helena… was dead? But before that news could be absorbed, Arianna Marziano burst back into the room.
"E' finita!" she announced through thick Antivan tears of joy before she turned and shimmied down the royal hallway, calling out as she went, "E' finita!"
It's over?
Samantha's mother let her go as she knelt by Lady Luxley, attending to her presupposed civic duty. Samantha and Flora numbly left the Chapel and into a hastening tide of people, a mass of bodies with some kind of collective consciousness that had them moving towards the front doors of the palace, leading into the courtyard protected by those impenetrable steel gates, which were now open.
The Lords and Ladies of Starkhaven were going home. Many were going to see about those smaller children who were too young to go to the party and had been left behind. Others were concerned about the status of their estates and whether their homes were still standing. Some were heading to the chantry to pray. Most were just exhausted.
There was a group returning as hers was exiting the palace. It was like a school of fish meeting another as the people weaved together in opposition. The men returning were members of the Royal Army, captains and lieutenants most likely returning to report to the prince of Starkhaven instead of heading back to the barracks. Some families that had stayed behind were asking about children that they had once known that had been sent to the Circle, but Samantha's parents wouldn't do that. She knew she would have to discover Innley's fate on her own.
She spotted the First Enchanter, Raddick, and the Grand Cleric, Francesca, both escorted by Templars and likely heading to the Circle to evaluate the damage. But Samantha was terrified as each haggard face that passed was not Corbinian's.
"Maybe he's already inside," Flora suggested hopefully, but they both knew he was not.
The air was thick was smoke, even this far away from the Circle, and with that smoke brought horrible odors: burnt wood, dirt, dust from stone, blood, and charred meat. She stopped in the center of the courtyard as the crowd thinned. Flora gripped her hand as they stood together, the dread settling into her empty stomach as the moments passed and now it was just a few men who were trickling through the gate.
Her knees began to wobble, and she fleetingly entertained the nightmare that he would never return, and she would stand there in the smoky clearing waiting forever. She would look out windows pensively, she would dream of him, she would weep terribly – a life without him, terrifying and horrible... but that was when he limped through the gate.
He was covered nearly head-to-foot in soot. His face was caked in it, his hair stuck up in damp directions, and yet those marvelous blue eyes shone out from somewhere underneath like beacons of light. His scratched-up golden armor was nearly black as well, and his helmet was missing. She let out a cry of distress, letting Flora go as she ran to him, consumed with relief, fear, and hope, and when he saw her, he stopped in his tracks and let her crash into him, the soot and the dirt transferred to her as he wrapped his armored arms around her, sinking into her embrace as if he had dragged himself back from that tower for this moment alone.
"I thought I'd lost you," she whispered.
"It'll take more than that to kill me." He sounded exhausted and his eyes were fighting to stay open.
"Are you injured?" She pulled back running her hands over his blackened armor creating long streaks in the muck, which now covered her golden dress as well.
"No," he said breathlessly, but then he winced, dropping to a knee. "Well, not terribly."
"We need a healer!" Flora shouted as loudly as she could, scampering off to find a mage.
Samantha didn't care if it was true or not, and barely a moment passed before a man in a robe appeared, helping Corbinian out of his breastplate. He winced again when he had to lift his arms up. There was a blackened patch on his tunic against the right side around his ribs, and when cut back revealed a horrible burn. To Samantha, it looked like he had been branded with unreadable iron.
"Oooh." Corbinian got a look at it for the first time and he almost laughed. "That's hideous."
"What happened?" Samantha knelt down beside him.
"Looks like a fireball. You're lucky," the man in the robe said as he laid his hands a few inches away from the wound, and they started to glow blue.
Magic! Samantha wanted to scream at this now-real and terrifying enemy, thinking maybe the mage was harming him but, after a second, she realized that he was doing just the opposite, because Corbinian let out a moan of relief, his arm suddenly heavy across Samantha's shoulders. And then Corbinian did something somewhat shocking if not for the fact that she was so terribly relieved he was alive: he turned and kissed her, right on the lips.
They didn't notice the man in the robe walk away, nor if Flora had returned, because Corbinian and Samantha became the only people in the war-torn world, with the dirt beneath their knees, the smell of death in the air, and the Maker's stars twinkling through the wind-strewn smoke, high in the sky.