9:31 Dragon, Late Autumn

Dear Sebastian,

Thank you for your letter. Words are inadequate to describe the comfort that it brought to me. I would love to hear more from you, but I understand that after you read this missive, you might be propelled to action that will detain your response, for I have news of the most disturbing nature.

First and foremost, your suspicions about the night of the destruction of the Starkhaven Circle are not unfounded. Certain information was revealed to me clandestinely, though very much by accident as I was visiting with your cousin, Goran Vael, at the royal palace when I fell asleep and I believe he forgot that I was nearby. I overheard him arguing with a man named Flint, and from this conversation, it is my belief that the mages had nothing to do with the murder of your family, but rather their unfortunate end came at hands of a mercenary company lead by this man who was hired by an external source only referenced as "The Lady".

Unfortunately, this is not all. Goran instructed the guard present to kill this man, Flint, and send his head to Kirkwall! I fear this means that the one who hired this mercenary group resides in the same city in which you live, and if that's the case then your life is in danger! The conversation I overheard suggested that Goran would have been killed that night as well, but was spared by this "Lady" and that she has been threatening him and perhaps even making demands of him ever since. I know you believe the Chantry may offer you protection, but you said yourself that the corruption in the city of Kirkwall runs through every door. I fear for your safety, Sebastian.

You are the last of your father's line, and I have lost too many friends already. I cannot lose you as well.

May the Maker protect you,

Samantha

P.S. When I received your letter, I also received two letters from Flora. She sounded desperate and would likely benefit from a little Chantry wisdom.

Samantha was trying to stay calm. She really was, but she wasn't used to such covert operations as sneaking letters to people in far away cities through intermediaries that she didn't even know. She felt completely transparent in her quest and could have sworn that Keis had been eyeing her peculiarly all the way to the Chantry that morning.

Keis was standing against the back wall, as she preferred to stand during service. She had been so attached to Samantha at every public moment that Samantha had started forgetting she was even there. Not that it mattered; Keis almost seemed to prefer it that way.

Grand Cleric Francesca was talking about tolerance, patience, and kindness. She had been giving practically the same sermon for the last six months, and just rewording it slightly to ring the changes. She stood at the front of the room in her beautiful robes, her graying hair gently swept up on top of her head, her eyes so kind and bright, and she would proclaim that everything was going to be just fine. Samantha wanted to believe her, but truthfully she was a little distracted.

Samantha had been staring at Taletha for the entirety of service. She seemed so innocent, standing behind the Grand Cleric's podium with the other brothers and sisters, her expression devout as she drank in Francesca's words.. With her eyes closed, she sang with the choir, guiding the rest of the congregation in song and prayer. Samantha would have to wait until service was over to talk to her.

If you need anything, anything at all, just let me know, Taletha had said. Through her own grief, Samantha had not caught how intent Taletha seemed at the time, which now stood out quite clearly in her memory. Sebastian's letter said that she would able to direct their correspondence, about which Samantha felt a strong sense of urgency. The contents of her letter were very important, and she couldn't get caught with it, nor could she wait to send it any longer than the agonizing four days that had already passed since she'd written the words. It had to be arranged today. Perhaps during service was not the most appropriate time, but Samantha had barely left the Garritys' estate, and she thought it might seem conspicuous if she were to suddenly have a desire to do so. Keis would certainly suspect an ulterior motive.

Sitting inside the beautiful Chantry, surrounded by hundreds of Starkhaven's nobles, Samantha tried to remind herself to stay calm. She focused on the late morning sunshine streaming through the stained glass windows that made everything feel touched by the Maker himself. Just outside, the spring flowers accented the granite path and made everything fragrant. It was a world born again with a new purpose. She had a new purpose, too. It was slipped inside the palm of her glove and she pressed her fingers against it like, if she didn't, it would disappear.

Benjamin approached her after service, to take her arm and lead her through Granite Circle like a gentleman would, but she politely refused citing that she wanted to speak to a sister from the Chantry. She implied that she needed to talk about her ongoing grief over Corbinian and, if she had no other purpose, that would have been a good reason. But this new purpose gave her strength.

She approached Taletha, who was standing silently against the wall, watching the congregation leave. There were a few other brothers and sisters at her side and they all smiled as Samantha approached.

"Hello." Samantha curtsied.

All of them smiled, but Taletha stepped forward and gave a formal bow of her head. "Hello milady. It is so lovely to see you out and about."

Samantha felt nervous. "I… wanted to thank you again for your visit the other day. It was such a blessing to hear word from my friends. It was like a weight had been lifted."

"True friendship is a gift from the Maker." Taletha's voice was soft and kind. "It should be nurtured."

"Then I am truly blessed." Samantha spoke carefully, wondering if they were communicating in some kind of code. "I have written to my friends, to let them know that I am alive and well."

"I am sure they are grateful for your correspondence."

The others didn't seem to be paying attention, and Samantha pressed on. "I was hoping that I could—" She was too nervous, and she tapped the paper in her glove to calm herself. "—talk to you. About the Chant of Light. Perhaps we could… sing it together?"

"Chanting always calms me as well." Taletha rested her hand on Samantha's shoulders. "I am free right now if you have time. Would you like some privacy? A confession room perhaps?"

"That would be most generous." Samantha was half-holding her breath.

"Come with me, my lady." Taletha bowed her head and began to walk, but Samantha felt a hand on her shoulder.

"No," Keis stated.

"It's all right, Keis." Samantha sighed. "This is Taletha. She's a chanter, not maleficar."

Keis eyed the girl carefully, and it was interesting to see her rigidity so strongly contrasted against Taletha's grace.

"We will just talk," Taletha said genially. "Surely, the Prince of Starkhaven understands that the conversation between a woman and the Maker is private."

"I'll be right outside the door," Keis said, still eyeing the foreigner. "I'm coming in if I hear anything out of the ordinary."

"Then I suppose you should break down the door if I start laughing," Samantha mumbled, reminding herself to have yet another talk with Goran about this whole personal guard idea.

Taletha just smiled as she turned and as Samantha followed, she wondered if the rest of her life would be dominated by following people through hallways. On this occasion, in these halls, her footsteps echoing off the polished stone floor, Samantha could see the ghosts her own history. There was Innley, laughing and chasing her because she had playfully stolen one of his shoes during service. There was Corbinian, pulling her behind a column, sneaking a kiss after service when the pair had gone to the wall to a light a candle. There were the orphans running around her legs in circles, their tiny hands fingering the ribbons of her dress. There was her own shadow as she held onto Ser Traven's arm when he had escorted her out of the building to Lord Garrity's estate. All of these images passed in front of her as she followed the hem of Taletha's robe as it lightly collected small specks of dust in her wake. She could see the faint streaks against the floor.

"Here we are," Taletha said, and Samantha wondered why she had chosen this life. She was pretty enough to catch the eye of the wealthy and beautiful alike.

The candles in the candelabras flickered as they entered, disturbing the still air and Taletha gestured for Samantha to take a knee on the rug. It was maroon with the Maker's sun woven in the center, picked out in a brilliant gold. Adjacent to the altar sat a small pew, only comfortable enough for two. Taletha offered prayers to the Maker but when she opened her eyes, she stared into Samantha's intently.

"I know why you are here," she said quietly, and then looked her over. "Sebastian described you quite well; he said you wouldn't take long to come to me. You are indeed fearless."

Fearless? Samantha felt taken completely aback. Lately, fear was something she felt regularly. Had it been so long? Had she changed so much?

"Is he safe?" Samantha whispered.

"He is."

"Do you know where his letters went?"

"Sebastian believes the Knight Commander has detained them, but there is no evidence of that. In fact, he is working dutifully with other Knight Commanders in the Free Marches to find and capture the escaped mages."

Samantha wondered if Innley had been caught or if he was lurking around Starkhaven waiting to kill her still. She wasn't sure if she wanted the answer, but she asked anyway: "Where have they been found?"

"All over. The wilderness. The mountains. The cities." Taletha took her hands. "Do not worry. There are bounties out on all of them, and it's only a matter of time before they are caught. And you are safe here. Starkhaven is secure."

Right. Like the Circle Tower had been secure. Like Starkhaven had been safe once before. And now the only people she loved who were left alive were in Kirkwall, where The Lady lived and probably wanted them dead.

"When are you going back to Kirkwall?" Samantha felt that sense of urgency again.

"I can leave on the next caravan."

Caravans left on a weekly basis, usually around the beginning of the week, which meant that Taletha was likely leaving in just a few days.

"I have a letter for Sebastian." She was definitely feeling paranoid. "It's very important that he receive it."

"He has been anxiously awaiting your reply." Taletha smiled.

Carefully, Samantha removed the folded note from her glove but felt hesitant to be parted from it. Taletha must have seen this because she gently said, "Sebastian is my brother in the Maker's eyes. He has told me of you. You were to marry his cousin and before that you were one of his dearest friends. He cares for you like family, which makes you my family, too. You can trust that your letter will go unopened until he opens it himself."

Family. The theme of the year. First Goran and now Taletha. The very idea of it made Samantha's face scrunch up in grief but she didn't want to cry in front of this girl, either.

"Forgive me. I did not mean to upset you." Taletha seemed to mean it.

"Why are you doing this for us? Won't you get in trouble if you're found out?" Samantha felt afraid for her, as much as she felt afraid for herself.

Taletha squeezed Samantha's hands, looking directly in her eyes. "When the Maker shows you his path," she said earnestly, her voice steady and calm, "You do not go the opposite way."

So that was it, then. This girl, who seemed as young as Samantha herself, believed the Maker wanted Samantha and Sebastian to exchange letters – as ridiculous as that sounded. It occurred to Samantha that perhaps the Maker had guided her ears to that conversation between Flint and Goran. Maybe it was all part of His plan. Taletha smiled. Her eyes were so bright; Samantha wished that she could be as sure of the world.

"How will this work exactly?" Samantha still held the letter.

"Traveling back and forth among the cities – it is commonly done among chanters. But we must be careful. Sebastian has asked that your correspondence with him go unknown, so you must tell no one. It also might be best that we do not speak of him too often, lest suspicions arise and we are overheard."

"Are we in danger?"

"Sebastian feels something is amiss." Taletha glanced at the confession room door. "He will be pleased that that large woman is guarding you. But we all must be careful, not just for his safety but for yours. He doesn't want to bring unwanted attention your way, but he needs your help all the same."

"He is my friend. I would never turn him away," Samantha said in earnest.

Taletha smiled again. "We all move as the Maker guides us. Recognizing His signs can be a challenge, because they are often subtle... but sometimes grand. I've always thought that friendship is a bit of both."

The Maker's signs. Samantha's torn dress. Innley's amputation. Helena's death. Her father's stubbornness. Her mother's lack of remorse. Flora's contrition. Ruxton and the Blooming Rose. The destruction of the Starkhaven Circle. Goran's paintings. Corbinian's room. Meghan Vael's locket...

Samantha handed over the note.

In the several weeks that followed, Taletha was as good as her word.

She dutifully carried Samantha and Sebastian's letters back and forth between Kirkwall and Starkhaven until the late autumn snows blanketed the pass through the Vimmark Mountains. It took a month for the pass to clear and for Taletha to return, but when she did, she brought something extraordinary with her.

Keis didn't raise too many objections the next time Samantha met Taletha after Chantry service back in one of the confession rooms; a different one this time, although they all looked the same. Taletha had rambled about how Sebastian was suddenly so focused. Normally, she claimed, his demeanor was so calm and measured and his voice was even and kind. During the last few months, she had seen an entirely different side of him, and no one at the Kirkwall Chantry knew what to make of it.

He was anxious, restless, angry. Taletha was extremely worried for her brother, and learned that Sebastian had posted a call to service on the Chanter's Board and affixed it with an arrow. Such a brazen display of hostility had all of the sisters and brothers atwitter with discussion about , and so Taletha had taken it upon herself to respond to the person who answered the call - some Fereldan refugee who needed coin. It seemed as though Brother Sebastian had become something of a renegade. Samantha could only smirk, because the Sebastian she remembered was so much worse than that.

She could recall parties where he'd danced with no less than twenty different girls, where he'd drunk twenty glasses of wine, where he would "borrow" a bow from whatever weapons display he could find and show off his skills to giggling debutantes, affixing more than just paper with the arrows he fired. She could recount stories where he had created distractions for guards so that they could sneak around the Royal Palace's unused rooms, of which there were dozens, and she laughed at the memories of him inviting boys to archery contests... and then inviting girls to be spectators.

Incidentally, that had been how Samantha had met Corbinian. She and Flora had been those girls, and she had spied Corbinian staring at her from across the yard. She'd known who he was, of course, but they had barely spoken since the incident with the painting oils when she was five. But everything changed on that day, when it was as though once he looked at her, he never looked away. Once he spoke to her, he never stopped talking. Once he touched her, he never removed his hands.

And all of that seemed tied up in Taletha's soft-spoken words about how wild and crazy Sebastian Vael seemed. If she only knew, Samantha thought ruefully.

But that wasn't the extraordinary part. Sebastian had sent her a letter, but also a small box.

Dearest Samantha,

I sent out this letter as soon as the pass through the Vimmarks was clear. I hope you are well and haven't been too worried about me during these past winter months.

Words of thanks are not enough for what you have done, Sammie. Though you should never put yourself in danger like that again, I admit that the information you provided was invaluable. Through the Chanter's Board, I hired a small group of mercenaries lead by a Fereldan refugee, and I am pleased to announce that every last member of the Flint Mercenary Company is dead. I can't tell you what a relief it is to know that my parents can rest easy in their graves, but I would be lying if I also didn't admit to a sense of satisfaction knowing that their murderers have been brought to the Maker's feet.

I have also made a decision. I've thought about it sincerely, prayed to the Maker, and searched my heart, and I have decided to leave the Chantry. Elthina does not approve of my decision, but I am returning to Starkhaven to assume the throne as the rightful heir. I just can't stay here knowing what happened to my family, to Starkhaven, and to my friends. It feels wrong to sit by and do nothing while Goran assumes a throne he is not prepared for. Surely, only Starkhaven will suffer for that.

It's not going to be easy, though. It has been almost ten years. I don't know if the people will accept me back knowing that their prince sent me away. I also don't know if Goran will challenge me for the prince's seat, but he never seemed like a leader. I can't imagine him fighting me for it, but it is my duty to try.

I have petitioned the Viscount of Kirkwall for his support. I will write to the Teyrn of Ostwick, the Lord Chancellor of Tantervale, and our family in Nevarra City. If I come home with the support of other leaders of the Free Marches, and perhaps some form of aid to help rebuild, then the people might accept me back more readily.

I have not been to visit Flora, and I confess that I have not been a good friend to her. I will make amends but, right now, it is not safe to be on my own outside the Chantry while there might be agents of murder looking for me. Thanks to you, we know that the person who hired the Flint company is in Kirkwall, and so I must be careful. No doubt my family has enemies, but something doesn't sit right about any of this. I promise you, I will visit Flora when things are settled.

I have enclosed something else. The Fereldan refugee I hired found it on one of the Flint mercenaries. I thought I would return it to its rightful owner.

Andraste guide your way,

Your friend, Sebastian

She couldn't think about how he had barely mentioned Flora. Nor could Samantha fully comprehend that she had been partly responsible for the death of an entire group of mercenaries. And finally, she couldn't process Sebastian's announcement that he intended to lay claim to the prince's throne of Starkhaven. Because at the conclusion of the letter, the small box in Taletha's hands became the magnet to which Samantha was drawn.

It was wrapped in brown parchment paper with a thick white string tied around all sides just like those tiny packages that her uncle, her father's brother, would send from all over the world. When Samantha lifted it up, she heard a small muffled noise from inside. The familiar sound of a metal chain wrapped in cloth scraping the bottom of a tiny box. She was no stranger to receiving jewelry, but that sound made her heart skip twice because she knew exactly what it was.

She had to take a seat in the confession room's pew for she had been so excited to receive a letter from Sebastian that she hadn't waited to read it. The package felt light in her hands as she sat staring at it, unopened and perfect. For a singular moment, everything was just as it used to be. She had only felt this certain about one other thing in her life, and that was the boy who had given this to her in the first place.

Can a moment last forever? Taletha sat down next to her and touched her arm. She was saying something, maybe Samantha's name, but there were no sounds in the world, no words or music or heartbeats or wind. All the world was inside the box wrapped up in a tiny bit of cloth and attached to a golden chain.

Meghan Vael's locket.