The Rogue's Conquest
Chapter Eighteen"My husband is drunk," said Marian to the Templar. "But then, I expect you can see that for yourself." Warily the solider approached the pale, dirty man slumped over the saddle, just in case this bedraggled little family was one more rebel trap. And Marian prayed she wouldn't be forced to kill he and the corporal behind him in cold blood. "I wouldn't get too close to him if I were you," she advised with undisguised disgust. "He was regurgitating his booze in the street when I hauled him from Madame Lusine's house, and I can't promise he won't spew. He's quite rank as is."
To her joy the soldier stepped back, turning his head from the smell that clung to Gabriel. "Madame Lusine's, you say? At this hour of the night?" Marian sighed mournfully and nodded. She had known that Lusine would open another brothel. Had even overseen the Madame's request for the license to do so. Never, though, could Marian have known just how wise it had been for her to okay that very request. Lusine's was the perfect cover. To the soldiers, Marian would seem a poor housewife, dealt a raw deal by the fates when they'd blessed her with her husband, and Dallas' presence, she hoped would only help garner their sympathy… Gods be kind!
"Tis no place for a decent woman, I know," she said stiffly, hugging Dallas before her on the saddle, "nor for our boy, either, but I vowed to follow the man for better and worse when I wed him. And who can guess what mischief he'd have fallen into if I didn't come fetch him home?"
"Seven years' service in the Divine's army, if he'd been plucked up by a Templar in Orlais," spoke the other guard, spitting over his shoulder for emphasis. "Better for you if they did, eh, mistress?"
Marian didn't smile. "Officers of the fair Lady Divine are certainly welcome to any service they can get from him at all, that is, of course, if they know the secret of separating him from his rum," she said sharply. "Tis more than I've been able to do in ten-years of marriage."
"Then may the Maker watch over you through your trails, mistress," said the first soldier, tipping his head in a slight bow. He swatted the second's horse on the rump with the flat of his hand. "On with you, now!"
Her heart pounding, Marian forced herself to wait until they had gone beyond a hill before she turned to look at Gabriel. "Are you all right?" she called softly, twisting in the saddle with one arm around Dallas' waist. "You did very well there, you know."
Gabriel raised his head and did his best to smile." An' ye' lie verra' well yerself', Mistress Hawke," he teased, but his speech was labored, and the way he still sat hunched over the horse's neck did little to reassure Marian. By the first gray light of the coming dawn, she could see the deep lines etched on his face, etched by pain, and how his roguish tan seemed to rest uneasily over the pastiness of his cheeks. Pretending to be a man too sick to care what happened to him had come with alarming ease.
Marian drew her horse closer to his. "We should go back," she said, worried. "I should never have agreed to take you with me."
"Ye' could nae' have stopped me, lass," he said hoarsely, and this time he didn't even try to smile, concentrating instead on clutching the horse's reins. "I would nae' have let ye' go otherwise." Bitterly, Marian knew he wouldn't have been able to stop her from doing anything, not as weak as he was. As part of their ruse, his legs had been lashed to the stirrups to keep him from sliding from the saddle, just as she'd liberally doused his coat with rum to make him reek like the drunkard he was supposed to be. Now she was thankful for those same lashings, and the lead that connected his horse to hers. Without them, she wasn't sure Gabriel could have managed the horse on his own.
"She would nae' have done it, Pa," said Dallas boldly, though the way his knuckles were whitened where he clung to the saddle horn showed Marian he had no more illusions than she did herself about his father's strength. "Ah' would nae' have let her go, nae' without ye'."
"True enough, Dallie," agreed Mari softly, tightening her arm around the boy. "Hold tight now. I've no wish to lose you, either." Yet as she urged the two horses onward, Marian wondered how much of her hastily made plan would work. If luck were on her side, she would reach her cousin's house with Gabe and his son before the Templar search parties, and urge Rana and Zevran to escape with both Vael's in the little boat Zevran used for smuggling. It was the only reason she'd agreed to bring Gabriel with her, and she hoped he'd be too weak to protest. In Antiva with his girls, or perhaps they could go to Starkhaven, there he'd have time to recover, out of harm's way, and Dallas might have a chance to be just a boy a bit longer.
The rising sun was already clearing the horizon, and wearily she dug her heels into the horse's sides. She hadn't realized it was so late. They had to reach the Arainai's farmstead before the Templars did, or none of this would matter. And Sebastian. Sebastian would be coming here soon, as well, too soon for her, and her heart grew tight in her chest. Perhaps she and Nova, too, should sail for Antiva with the others, for what hope did she have of any mercy, let alone love, from Sebastian now?
She had never intended to disappear into the night the way she had. She'd thought she'd only be gone a few minutes at the most, so few that he'd never know she'd been away. But now – Now too much had happened for her to be able to explain it away. She had made the choice to go to Gabe when he needed her, a choice she'd make again without hesitation. She owed that much and more to him. He'd paid her way into the Deep Roads after all. He'd pulled her, Carver and Nova from the bowels of Kirkwall, for no other reason than the kindness that had once swelled in his heart. But the choice she had made tonight would be like a rock tossed into a smooth pond, and its consequences would endlessly ripple outward.
It didn't matter that in the warm shelter of his bed, he had said he loved her; he was an officer of the Divine and she was still a mage, his enemy, and helping Gabriel escape had only made it worse. To him she was a rebel, a spy, and a traitor. However could Sebastian love her after that? Tears pulled straight from her heart stung her eyes, tears of longing and loneliness that she struggled to blink back.
"There's the Arainai's farm," said Dallas excitedly, and he twisted around to see his father. "Pa, look, ye' can see the chimneys!" But by the time they reached her cousin's door, Gabriel was slumped over his horse's neck, and it took Zevran, Rana and Marian together to ease him from the saddle to the ground."
"They were ambushed last night by the Templars," explained Marian quickly as she helped Dallas slide from her horse's back.
"When?" asked Zevran roughly, as he slipped his shoulder beneath Gabriel's uninjured arm to lead him inside the house. "He was here last night, and all was well."
"It was later in the evening, near a cave on Deadman's Cove." Her breath was coming in rapid gulps now, and she held her hand to her breast to try to calm herself enough to speak. "Gabriel and Dallas escaped back to Kirkwall with two other men, but all the others were captured and Gabe was shot – you can see that yourself – and though I tried to – I can't heal him… I did what I could-" Her voice began to waver uncontrollably, and she broke off, not wanting to cry in front of them. If she began, she was so afraid she'd never be able to stop. "I tried, you see-" Rana came to rest her hand on Marian's arm, her once angelic face, weathered and filled with sympathy. They were, after all one in the same, if anybody knew Marian's plight it was Reigns. Both women had been saddled with the weight of their collective worlds. Their souls forged in iron, their spirits tamed in war.
"It's all right Mari," said Rana softly, dragging Marian into her arms. "Anders, himself couldn't do more, and were he here he'd be proud to call you his protégé. Zev and I will tend to Gabe and Dallie."
"Not yet, Rana, because… because…" Dumbly Marian shook her head, swallowing her tears as she looked past Rana and down the road they'd come. Before this, before there had been anyone else to depend, she realized how frightened she was.
"'Cause the Templars are comin' back, Lady Arainai," said Dallas, his child's voice curiously unemotional. "Cause they want Pa so bad, they're coming back tae' find him." Searching for confirmation, Rana turned swiftly to look at Marian.
"It's true, all of it," said Marian raggedly. "When they didn't find Gabe last night, they swore they'd search every house on the point until they found him, and they-"
"Nay, mum, not 'they,'" put in Dallas softly. "It was mah' bastard uncle Sebastian."
"Mama!" With a wild shriek of delight, Nova raced from the house and into Marian's arms. She had come straight from her bed in her nightgown and her feet bare, and as Marian pressed her face against her daughter's cheek she breathed deeply of the warm, sweet smell of her still-sleepy daughter's skin and hair. The way Nova fit her coltish body against her own, so close Marian could hear and feel her heartbeat, how she nestled her cheeks against Marian's chest and closed her eyes with a sigh of contentment – all of it, thought Marian, was what she'd missed these long weeks they'd been apart, and once again she felt tears welling up. Tears of joy, true, but tears of sorrow as well, regret for missing more of her daughter's life.
"Here, little dove, let me look at you. You'll turn into an icicle, dressed like that." Tenderly Marian wrapped her own cloak around Nova's shoulders, and tried not to see how much she resembled Sebastian. She was glad to see the girl hadn't suffered or pined; if anything, she'd grown taller, and with another pang Marian thought again of how three or four weeks in the life of her daughter could seem like an eternity. Nova smiled, her face still plump with sleep, and Marian touched the spot in her grin where there had last been a gap. "That new tooth's come at last," said Marian. "You're quite done with your baby teeth, aren't you?"
Proudly Nova stretched her smile to an over-wide grin. "That's because I'm not a baby any longer," she said, her sharp features serious. "I'm almost twelve, Mama. Surely you haven't forgotten that." Her grin expanded even further, to include Dallas, standing uncertainly to one side of Rana. "I'll be twelve in March, Dallie, a whole exact year before you."
"Not that he cares, either," said Marian, an unspoken warning in her glance that made Nova instantly quiet. "Dallas doesn't need your chattering this morning, and neither do I. Now come, I want you dressed fast as you can. Hurry, lass, be quick!" Nova's bare feet danced across the frozen ground as she rushed ahead of Marian and through the kitchen door.
"We're going back to Kirkwall, Mama? You're really, truly going to take me home?"
"Nay, little lass, she's nae'," growled Gabriel, and Nova scuttled back behind Marian. Gabriel sat on the bench before the fire, a tankard full of rum laced coffee steaming in his hand. His face was ashen and he scowled with fatigue and pain, his beard and long chestnut hair making him even more forbidding. "Ye'll clear off, aye, but nae' fer' Kirkwall."
"And why not?" demanded Marian. "Where else would we go Gabe? Kirkwall's our home and she needs me, her Viscountess. I cannot abandon-"
"She used tae' be mah' home, too, once." Gabriel coughed, a strained bark that sent the coffee dashing back and forth in the tankard. "But think on what ye've done, Marian. If Dallas an' I cannae' go back, well then, neither can ye' an' yer' daughter."
"But the city-"
"Carver controls the city lass, an' he has well served Kirkwall since ye' stepped away. He's nary a fool boy any longer, sweet cherry. He will hold the reins in yer' absence an' do ye' proud if ye'd' but let him."
"He's right, Mari," said Rana gruffly. "As soon as Gabriel, here finishes his toxic brew, we'll be heading off upriver. You have to join us, you and your pretty dove both."
Marian stared between the Hero of Ferelden and Master Gabriel Vael, stunned that they'd actually suggest what she'd only thought on a whim.
"It's one thing for Gabe to go. What else can he do? But for me to leave Kirkwall now! War has been called for, and though I trust Carver with the city, how can I justify saddling him with the grizzly burden. And the Rose, what of my tavern? I can't, and won't abandon everything I know simply because you say so. I have guests that depend on me, customers who expect me to be there."
Gabriel glanced up at her sideways. "The way Ah've' heard it, about the only customers ye've' been entertainin' lately, have been wearin' pearl, white armor."
Marian gasped indignantly. "That's not fair, Gabe," she snapped. "I've been forced to quarter Templar soldiers under my roof, just like everyone else in Kirkwall, and if you believe that-"
"Do nae' fan yer' feathers of bravado at me, Marian Hawke," said Gabriel, interrupting her. "All Ah' am sayin' is that ye'll' have tae' decide whether tae' throw yer' lot in with me now, or trust yerself' an' yer' daughter tae' the hands o' my bastard o' a brother. Yer' choice, sweet… Me, or Sebastian."
Marian went very still, her next words of protest dying on her lips. On the surface, and for the sake of the others here in the kitchen, Gabriel was merely telling her Kirkwall was too dangerous a place for her to remain, and that she and Nova should consider fleeing in Zevran's boat, as well. But Gabriel was offering her more than advice alone, and both of them knew it. He'd always teased her about what a good wife she'd make and how well they'd suit one another, the widow and the widower, the mage Viscountess and the rebel ex-Andrasten, joining households. Yet he'd never meant it the way he did now. Now he was actually asking her, Marian Hawke, to marry him.
He looped his uninjured arm around his son, standing beside him. "Ah' know which way Dallas would want ye' tae' go, Mari," he said. "Mighty fond he is o' ye', an' Miss Nova, too. Isn't that right, laddie? An' there's nothing Aria an' Alexa would like better than havin' another lass about tae' play with." For the sake of their children – that was his motive, then, for asking. And it wasn't such a bad one, either, not by half. A widower left with three young children needed someone he could trust to be a mother, as well as a wife. She was fond of Dallas, too, and though she didn't know the girls as well, she was certain she could come to care for them. She loved children, she always had, and with Gabriel there'd be a good chance she'd bear more of her own. His wife, Maria, had been swollen with child five times during the eight years they'd been married.
There'd be other advantages, excellent ones, too, to such a marriage. Before they'd been murdered, the Vael's had been one of the wealthiest and most influential families in all of Thedas, and Marian didn't doubt that what was left of the Vael's now, would be so again. He wouldn't be marrying her solely with an eye towards her value in gold. As a nobleman Gabriel was known as a fair master, sober and evenhanded, and she was sure he'd be the same as a husband. He was considered handsome, too, and if he wasn't lighthearted as he'd once been, well, then, what man in his prime was?
He wasn't even pretending to love her, not the way he'd loved Maria. Nor would Marian have to pretend, either, not for a second time with a second husband she respected but would never love.
Not the way she would always love Sebastian…
Left waiting too long for her to answer, Gabriel shifted uneasily on the bench, wincing with the pain.
"It's nae' such a hard question, lass," he said, his voice sinking down once again to a low growl. "After last night. Ah'd' have thought yer' mind was bonnie well made up." She knew Gabriel was referring to the way she'd chosen to come to his aid, but still her cheeks flushed with guilt. She couldn't help remembering how, in that same last night, she and Sebastian had made love, too.
And it had been love, she thought sadly. The lopsided paper heart that Sebastian had sent her, the red ribbons he'd wrapped around her hands in the snow-filled garden while his lips were warm upon hers, the smile that had lit his eyes with tenderness when his fingers brushed over her cheek and the fire that had burned in her blood with his caresses – oh, aye, it had been love, and even if it was done, she'd never forget it.
Or Sebastian.
Rana cleared her throat impatiently. "Not a hard question, but one that's keeping us all too long in this place. The tide's due to turn on the hour, and if we're not sailing with it, we might as well go welcome the Templar scum on the road and save them the trouble of finding us here."
"I'm sorry, Rana, I didn't mean to keep you," murmured Marian swiftly, avoiding Gabriel's eyes. "Come, Nova, we must get you dressed. Hurry now, child, hurry!" Grateful for the excuse to flee, Marian hustled the girl before her up the winding stairs and to the back bedchamber where she'd slept. The room had been – and likely still was- a wish her cousin and Zevran both had designed. A room for a child of their very own, but Rana's warden DNA had other plans. Instead of children, Rana had only ever been given small hopes and quick miscarriages.
Why Rana couldn't seem to carry, but Merrill could even with Carver's warden genetics, was a mystery. Perhaps the killing blow she'd taken on the arch demon had ingrained the taint to the quick, or was it luck that had struck Carver? No one knew. And though the floor of the ghost child's room was swept and the blankets and sheets on the low bed were patched and clean, there was still a mournful emptiness to the room, a sense that the rightful owner would never show. Even Lady – Nova's oldest doll, and last tether to her childhood – propped up regally in her best crimson gown against the pillows, could do little to dispel the sadness of the room, and Marian felt a pang of guilt and sympathy for her dear cousin. The woman, a mage no less, had taken the taint into her veins to save the world, and in turn for the safety of strangers, she had forfeited her chance at the babies she'd always dreamed.
Breathing deep, and setting her jaw into a harsh line, Marian quieted the guilt. Briskly she began untying the strings of Nova's nightgown. "Wear your emerald robe, you know the one uncle Varric had commissioned for you," Marian said, "and because it's so cold I want you to wear your heaviest cloak, the gold one if you can find it quickly enough. We don't have time to waste."
"Yes, Mama." Nova smiled, standing uncharacteristically still while Marian wrestled with the last knot on her nightdress, blissfully content to bask in her mother's attention. Marian tore at the last stubborn knot.
"Come along now, find the cloak. We'll have aunt Rana send your things later. There isn't time to pack now." Nova scampered across the bed, Marian's cloak still billowing around her.
"We don't have to pack," she said, hopping off the side of the bed. She knelt beside her traveling trunk and flipped open the lid. "Everything's ready." Marian followed her around the bed, frowning.
"I thought aunt Rana said you could put your things in the drawer."
"Oh, she did," said Nova, carefully easing the green gown from the neat stacks of folded clothing. "But I wouldn't do it. I wanted to be ready, you see, for when you came to take me home. I didn't want to have to waste a single minute packing." She sat back on her heels and looked up at Marian, her smile wobbling. "You said it wouldn't be for long, Mama, and every day I looked for you to come. And today you did."
"Oh, dove." Marian bent down and hugged her close. "I wanted to, but it wasn't safe."
With a loud sniff, Nova pushed back, rocking on her heels to search Marian's face.
"And it is now?" Marian nodded, though the lie weighed heavily on her conscience. If anything, Nova would be in more danger now than before, and it was going to take considerable planning each day to keep her from Sebastian's sight. With a sigh, she smoothed Nova's hair.
"I've missed my girl too much to be apart from her any longer," she said softly, and that much, at least was achingly true. "You're coming home with me, as soon as you're dressed."
"Good!" Nova wriggled free, shrugging off Marian's cloak than her nightgown, pulling up the green gown and swirling the cloak about her shoulders. Marian reached out to help her, steering her flailing arms into the sleeves, and the girl's muffled voice came from somewhere inside the fabric. "I didn't want to go with Dallas Vael anyway."
"I thought you liked Dallas," said Marian, tugging the hood of Nova's cloak down, allowing her head to pop forward.
"I used to," said Nova as she shoved her hair back from her face. "But he's too serious now."
"He has a great deal to be serious about," chided Marian, thinking how much the boy had seen and suffered in just this night alone. "Remember, he has no mother to watch after him, or his sisters."
"He has a father," said Nova wistfully, "just like I have you. You're my mother."
"And you're my daughter. Not that there's ever been any question, has there? Come now, hold still so I can lace you up." Swiftly Marian threaded the laces through the gown's eyelets, thinking how difficult it would be to convince Nova to accept Gabe's children as siblings. With Lloyd's early departure from the world, the bond between her and Nova had been closer than that between most mothers and their children. Each had been, quite simply, all the other truly had. "There now," said Marian, giving Nova a little pat. "I'll braid your hair more neatly later. There's not time now. Fetch your shoes while I latch the trunk."
"And Lady," said Nova leaning over the bed to retrieve her. "We mustn't forget Lady."
"Gods, no." Marian gasped, tying her cloak tight. "Though Lady would likely fare much better with the Templars than we would. She'd make them all bow down and call her 'Your Grace.'"
Nova laughed, shoving her feet into her shoes without bothering to unbuckle them, so that the heels collapsed. Marian sighed with exasperation. "No wonder you wear holes in the heels of all your stockings," she said as she bent down to fasten the shoes properly. "You'll have ones in your feet to match if you keep to such sloppy habits." The tongue of the second buckle kept slipping away from the hole as Marian struggled with it, and the leather of the shoes was stiff with mud, making her task all the harder. "Gods, Nova," she scolded, "I've never seen such a mess. You took such care with your other things that I can't imagine why-"
"Who's Sebastian?"
"Who's Sebastian?" repeated Marian, too, quickly, and she felt her face grow warm as she busied herself with the shoe buckle. At last the buckle slipped into place, and she stood, dusting dried mud from her hands. "Who's Sebastian, you ask?"
"Yes, Sebastian," said Nova, her face solemn and anxious as she gazed at Marian. It was clear to Marian that Nova could tell her mother wasn't telling her the whole truth and that the fact worried the girl. "Serha Vael said that was your choice. Him or Sebastian." It was becoming abundantly clear to Marian that she'd have to start treating her daughter as the young woman she was becoming, and not the child she wished her to be.
"Your ears are quick, dove, aren't they? Marian sighed uneasily, considering all the layers of meaning in Gabe's seemingly simple question. "Sebastian Vael is an officer in the Divine's army, a Knight-Commander, and he and some of his men are quartered at The Rose. He's in the green chamber, to the front."
"A white-armored officer?" Nova's dark brows puckered with confusion as she hugged Lady more tightly. "But Serha Vael said he was his brother. They have the same last name. So how can he be a Templar, too? And how could you have chosen him? Chosen him for what?"
"Serha Vael was exaggerating, that was all," said Marian carefully, fastening the diamond clasp on Nova's cloak beneath her chin. "I didn't really have to make a choice between him or his brother. And though Sebastian Vael has chosen to serve with the Orleasian Templars, he was born in Starkhaven, not far at all from our own Kirkwall. I suppose that makes him as close to being a Kirkwaller as us."
"It makes him a traitor to his own people," declared Nova fervently, her face twisted in disgust, as if she'd just had a shot of lemon juice. "And worse than any Templar ever could be."
"Even if he believes what he's doing is right? If he believes that he's here to protect us, and not to harm us?"
Nova frowned, her eyes accusing. "You sound like a Templar Mama, instead of the mage they've came to suppress."
Sharply Marian returned the frown. "And you, my love, sound like a girl who listens at doorways, to conversations she doesn't quite yet understand."
"But, Mama, aunt Rana and uncle Z say-"
"I don't care what your aunt and uncle say," said Marian firmly. "Nothing, and no one, is as simple as they seem, Nova. How can we expect compassion, if we-"
"In return can't give it ourselves. I know, I know, Mama." Nova sighed rolling her pretty eyes in contempt.
"You'd do well to remember it girl. Now come on, help me take your trunk down the stairs." Together they bumped the trunk down the winding stairs and into the kitchen. Rana rushed to help them, taking Nova's place.
"Oh, here you are finally, Mar!" she said breathlessly. "Zevran and Gabriel have already gone down to the water. By the Gods, Zevran can be worse than an arch demon when it comes to the tides. Well, the tides and his…pleasures." She smiled sheepishly, fluttering her long, sweeping lashes. "But don't worry dear cousin, we can still catch them. You'll see! Between us we'll manage this trunk over the dunes. We, the Hero of Ferelden and Champion of Kirkwall don't need no stinking men."
Marian let her end of the trunk drop with a thump to the floor, meeting her cousin's curious gaze. "You're kind to offer, Reigns, but Nova and I won't be sailing with you guys today. I'll be riding back to Kirkwall as soon as I've seen you, Zevran and Gabriel safely off.
Now Rana let her side of the trunk fall, as well. "Marian Hawke, do you honestly think that's wise?" She said, her voice a low hush. "I mean if you've no care for your safety, fine, but perhaps if you let him take Nova up to Antiva with the other children-"
"No!" said Marian, more sharply than she'd intended, sharply enough that Rana drew back with a stiff, stricken look on her face.
Immediately, Marian regretted it. With a weary sigh, she reached for her daughter, looping her arms protectively around Nova's shoulders. "Oh, Rana," she began. "It's not that I don't appreciate what you've done for Nova and for me, because I do. Truly. And I know the dangers, too, even without Gabriel to point them out to me. But it seems now there's danger everywhere, and I might as well keep Nova with me as send her away."
"Very well, Mari. You're her mother after all, you'll do what's best for her." Rana's smile was tight, and her gaze lingered longingly on Nova. "That's how it should be. But we'll miss the little lamb, Zevran and I both." Impulsively Nova eased free of Marian and ran to hug her aunt. Rana colored with pleasure, even as sadness lanced through her violet orbs. "Oh, little lamb, when your uncle and I comeback from Antiva you must come stay with us once again," she said. "Those worthless cats in the barn will welcome you too. They've never eaten so grand as when you've been here. But go on now, back to your mother, where you belong."
"Thank you, Rana, for everything," said Marian softly as Nova slipped her hand back into Marian's. "Though I've decided not to go with Gabe, I'd like to wish him, Dallas and of course Zevran good bye. Do you think we'll be too late?"
Rana shook her head. "Nay, Mar, Zevran would cut off his own legs before he left me behind. We need to hurry. Hopefully you haven't gotten too soft in that fine office of yours cousin. We'll need to go out the kitchen and past the stone wall, then over the dunes." Her eyes gleamed with challenge. "And one never knows when they'll have to set a few mighty Templars ablaze."
"Oh, Reigns don't you worry about me. You need to worry more about what being a dutiful housewife has done to the Warden-Commander." Marian smiled, tossing her cousin a devilish wink of her own. She missed these jousts between her and Rana, since the Templars had arrived their weekly visits had been non-existent. It was nice to have her cousin in her life, even if it was… temporary.
They walked quickly along Rana's neatly swept garden path, the wind whipping their skirts around their legs. They slowed as they trudged up through the whipping grass and toward the crest of the dunes. There was no path here – a smuggler like Zevran had no wish to make the way easier for others who might follow – and the loose sand of the dunes was almost like drifts of snow, pulling at their shoes with every step. They paused at the top to catch their breath. The new day was bright, the sky cloudless, and the long sweep of the bay and ocean beyond mirrored more deeply the blue overhead. With high tide the beach was only a narrow band, and there, just below the sandy hill she, Rana and Nova stood upon – stood the men – Zevran, Gabriel, Dallas, and the two men from the neighboring farm who served as Zevran's crew – Gathered around the small, smuggling boat drawn up on the sand, it's mast already unfurled and bellowing in the mornings chill wind.
With a joyful whoop, Nova jumped and bounced down the steep dune, poor Lady swinging at her side by one jointed arm. In unison the men turned at the sound, and Gabriel came forward to meet them as Marian and Rana descended the dune more carefully. "Ah' was a bit afraid ye' would nae' come," he said gruffly. They were shielded from view of Zevran and the other men by an outcropping of stones, but still he stopped a few steps away from Marian and Nova, holding his hat in one hand, and self-consciously he swiped the other across his hair, as if that would have much effect against the wind that blew from the water.
"I'm going to check if Zevran needs my help," said Rana with an uncertain, almost awkward hitch to her usually assertive tone. With a small squeeze to Marian's shoulder, and an apologetic shine to her violet eyes directed at Gabriel, she sashayed away, around the rocky curtain, leaving Marian with only Nova… and of course Gabriel. Most awkward conversation of your life, coming right up! Beauty…
"Zevran's men wanted tae' shove off, but Zevran an' Ah' said tae' give ye', Rana an' the lass another moment. Cannae' rush the ladies, Zevran said."
"Oh, Gabriel," said Marian miserably. "I only came to say goodbye."
"Goodbye, Mari?" he asked uncertainly, tipping his head to look at her. He stood bent awkwardly to one side, favoring his wounded shoulder, but at least the wind had brought more color to his cheeks. "Ye' willnae' be comin' with me?"
"I – we – can't," Marian stumbled, her hand resting on Nova's shoulder to include her, and lessen the sting of her rejection. She didn't want to hurt him, even if it seemed inevitable. She would spare him the truth; that because she'd married once without love, she'd never do it again. "Our place, for now is here in Kirkwall."
"Ah, Kirkwall." He stared down at his hat. "Ah' know Ah've' nae' as much tae' offer ye' as once Ah' might have, Mari, but Ah'd' hoped that-"
"It's not you, Gabe, and it's not what you may or may not have to offer," she said quickly. "But to begin such a – such a venture in these times, when so much in both our lives is unsettled, seems to me an unwise course." Ah, ever the pristine diplomat Marian Hawke…
"Unwise, ye' say. Unsettled," he repeated bitterly. He twirled his hat on one finger, still looking at it rather than at her. "Ah' thought we were better friends then that, Mistress Hawke. How long did it take ye' tae' learn that pretty piece of diplomatic bullshit, eh?"
Marian reached across the distance between them, laying her hand gently on his wind-whipped cheek. "It's not bullshit, Gabe. It's the truth, and I believe-" But what she believed was never said. Instead came the snuffling sound of a laboring horse, the jingling of a harness, and then, outlined against the sky, rose Sebastian, riding his black stallion. On either side of him stood soldiers, soldiers frozen in place, with their bows trained on Gabriel, Marian and Nova, who clung in terror to her mother's robe.
7-7-7
Without a word, Sebastian dismounted, his face a hard-edged mask that hid the keen blow of the pain he felt now. To find them here together on this lonely beach, Marian and his brother, her hand resting so tenderly on his cheek as they prepared to flee, was the cruelest joke of his life. As he walked down the dune toward them, his boot heels sliding deep into the sand, he told himself he shouldn't be surprised. He'd warned her himself that he'd be here today with a search party, and it was perfectly natural that she in turn would warn Gabriel.
Perfectly, hideously natural.
He could see nothing beyond her face, her rosy lips parted so slightly with surprise, crimson strands of her hair dancing unchecked in the wind across her face, everything frozen by surprise and fear. Maker, he didn't want to frighten her. No matter what she'd done to him, how she'd betrayed him, he hadn't wanted that. Fool that he was, he loved her still. Yet as he came to stand before her now, his mouth was as dry as the sand beneath his feet, and he hadn't the faintest idea what to say. He brought his heels together, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. "Ma'am," he said at last. "I wish you a good morning."
"Good mornin'?" repeated Gabriel, standing forgotten beside Marian. He laughed – a harsh, apathetic sound that echoed against the rocks. "The Black Void take yer' good- mornin'. Sebastian! It's neary' a wonder Marian Hawke will nae' have me. How could she, with yer daughter hanging on tae' the waist o' her robe? Ah'd' never noticed the likeness before, but now, tae' see ye' all together, Ah'd' be a blind fool tae' miss it."
Sebastian frowned, wondering if at last his brother had lost his mind completely. Impatiently his gaze flicked down to the girl that clung to Marian, and he felt the bottom drop from his heart.
His hair, his eyes, his mouth.
His daughter…