Thanks to Seika for beta reading this. You're ridiculously awesome, lady. :)

Bloodied Hands

Gently stroking Airam's hair, he thought again how lucky they were that the little Warden survived. What would they do if the little Warden died? What would he do? Return to the Crows? That was not possible any more. And not just because of the punishment that would be awaiting him. He wasn't sure if he would be able to return to his old way of life. It was strange, to think of it as of the 'old way', when it was just few weeks ago. How was it possible? Why and when did this crazy kid become so important to him? In the Crows, there was no such thing as friendship. There was no one you could trust beside yourself. People were selfish; it was their nature, to think only of themselves, of their own interests, to be pragmatic. Friendship, trust, love; they were less than illusions, invented only to manipulate and rule over fools with weak minds.

That was what he was taught, that was what had been beaten into him from the first day he started his training with other Crow children.

At first they all wanted to be friends, naïve and innocent as they were. But they soon learned that it wouldn't work, not if they wanted to survive. There was never enough of anything in the flophouse; if one wanted to have his belly full, to have shoes or a blanket, then he had to steal it, fight for it, hide it from others. Yes, in the beginning they had tried to share, to help each other, but it hadn't lasted long. It was difficult to be good at training when one was weak from hunger or fever. And the Crows did not tolerate weakness. After a few good beatings and whippings from their allenatore for being too slow, or too clumsy, any altruism was quickly forgotten. To help others, to give up one's food for someone else, meant do diminish one's own chance of survival.

Kids that didn't learn those lessons quickly did not survive the first year. Bright kids learned more; to be nice and friendly when they needed something from the others, to manipulate them into something, but be wary and vigilant if others were nice and friendly.

He was always one of the brightest.

So Airam would have been. Didn't he see himself how convincing the little Warden could be, when he wanted something? How innocent he could look, and smile, just to achieve his goal? How could he be sure the boy wasn't trying to manipulate him?

Yet, the more he thought about it, the less sense it made. There wasn't anything Airam could want from him. He didn't own anything that the boy might be interested in, and as for skills, sure, he was a great assassin, but the others were not so unskilled; his presence did not make such big difference. So why was the boy so friendly? Was it something related to the Crows? Unlikely, as he didn't even know the Crows existed before they met. Or perhaps he had some plans for the assassin, thought it might be useful in future?

No. It was hard to believe, that the boy who was accusing himself of being a monster for killing someone in self-defence, while justifying the murders of an assassin, would be able of such wickedness.

But, even if there was a price. Would it be really that horrible if Airam asked him to do something; would it be that horrible to comply? Why? He remembered the boy's grin when he killed the demons in his nightmare in the Fade. Are you planning to sprawl there for the whole day? And the look in his eyes, when he offered to take some books… such a trifle compared to all that Airam had done for him, and yet, he was so grateful. Really, Zev, I'm glad I have you with me. That's what the crazy kid said.

He looked at the pale face, and tenderly touched his brow, masking it by wiping away the sweat. Whatever it is you want from me, I will do it. I'm your man, my little Warden. Without reservations.

oOo

He was helping Alistair to skin the dragon–they decided it would be terrible waste to leave the dragon skin to rot–when they heard Airam groaning, as he was finally rousing up. Leaving everything behind, they both immediately got to his side. He was leaning on Leliana; now, why couldn't he have gotten up an hour earlier, when it was his turn?

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I was chomped on by a dragon? Wait, I was chomped on by a dragon. Which makes that question pointless, doesn't it?"

"Oh, if you're able to make witty remarks, although they are rather lame, then you're fine."

"And hungry. Like, Grey Warden hungry." Airam looked pointedly at Alistair.

"Yes, well, you missed several meals during your beauty sleep. But don't worry; we'll fix that right away, we still have enough supply."

"Are you sure? I feel I could easily eat that dragon, you know."

"You're aware it might be several centuries old, yes? I'd say even Alistair's lamb stew would taste better than that."

"I heard that, assassin."

Airam finally managed to untangle from the blankets, and realized he was not wearing his robes. They had to remove it–or rather, what was left of it–when they were cleaning his wounds. They dressed him in one of Alistair's shirts, which was so big and wide it reached to his knees.

"Awww… those were my favourite… but what should I do now? I can't go through the mountains in a shirt..."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm sure Leliana has a spare dress she can borrow you. I bet you'll be irresistible," Alistair said with a wide grin.

"No, I'll gladly leave that to you. Haven't you told me once it was always your dream to put on a dress and dance Remigold in public?"

"What are you–that was not what I said!"

"Really? Oh, what a pity I don't have my lute here! But when we return to the castle, we can make a little performance, a celebration of our success, no?" Leliana's eyes were sparkling as she began to make plans for a big party.

Airam clapped. "What a brilliant idea! Don't you agree, Al? I'm sure everyone will love it! Especially our lovely Morrigan."

"Remind me next time, when a dragon chomps on you, to pass him some salt and tell him to enjoy his meal."

And so it continued; now that it was safe to say that the miracle had really happened, that Airam survived and was fine, they were so relieved they couldn't stop joking and laughing, and sharing funny stories. He had to wonder, if this was perhaps what people meant when they talked of friendship.

oOo

It took quite a bit of time to skin the dragon, as none of them had real experience with something like that, so the sun was almost down when they finished. They were eager to leave the mountains behind them as soon as possible, however, and decided not to wait till morning. It was not like it would matter in the caverns, anyway. They met no fanatics or dragonlings, thank the Maker, so even with the heavy and bulky dragon skin, they proceeded faster than before.

They reached Sten and Genitivi the next day, shortly after noon, and he was amused to see that the Brother did not even notice they were gone for almost one week, so busy he was with examining the whole temple. And the look at the man's face, when Airam showed him the Ashes–so full of awe, affection, happiness, and pride. Tears streaming from his eyes, he kept mumbling that he must get back to Denerim, to tell everyone and to prepare the next expedition, and if they hadn't stopped him, he would have run out of the Temple immediately, without any of his things or food.

Sten was much less impressed. "You decided to dress like a man. Good," was pretty much all he said to the little Warden.

They moved on almost immediately, wanting to get past Haven before sundown. As it turned out, they didn't have to worry. The village was empty, but not like before. Then, it was clear that there were people living there, although the streets were empty. But now it was dead, abandoned; the Chantry scorched and desecrated. Why it was empty and where everyone left to was anyone's guess, but Alistair decided that he would ask the Arl to send a unit of Templars there, to secure the village and the temple, anyway.

The next few days were probably the most pleasant since he joined the Wardens. They had to hurry, but that was their only concern. It seemed darkspawn had not reached the mountains yet, and the only mildly exciting thing was when they heard cries at Sulcher's Pass, but it turned out to be just a merchant searching for his mule. For a moment, he was afraid that the kid, crazy as he was, would offer to help find it, but instead, the merchant offered them a control rod for a golem. Airam accepted it more out of politeness than anything else, clearly doubting that such thing as a golem could even exist.

He started to train Airam again, and this time, Alistair and Leliana helped too. The boy whined and complained, especially when they pulled him out of the tent before sunrise, but it was more than clear that he actually enjoyed it.

And then they were out of the mountains; soon they could see Redcliffe castle, looming over the village. The nearer they came, the more anxious Airam was.

"Alistair, can I have a word with you, in private?"

"In private? What about?"

He softly chuckled at the annoyed look at the Airam's face. "I'll tell you, in my tent."

"Ah, but that is not necessary, Airam. I believe it is something related to Alistair being a royal bastard, yes? Then let me assure you, there is no reason for secrecy. Everybody knows already; well, except for Genitivi, and he's in his tent working on his research again. So please, do not worry and speak freely."

"What – how?"

Zevran flashed a wide smile at him. "We eavesdropped on you, of course. You didn't expect anything else from us, yes?"

"Oh, come on, Airam," Leliana joined in, "the Maker brought us all together to fight the darkspawn and stop the Blight. Don't we deserve some trust?"

"I – ah, all right, I give up. I just wanted to ask Alistair what he thinks will happen when we cure the Arl."

"He will help us reveal the Loghain treachery and take over the throne, of course."

"Will he, now? You know, I've been thinking about it a lot, since you told me, and I don't think that's likely to happen."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Well–not that I know much about politics, only what I learned from history books, but–he doesn't have a direct claim to the throne, does he? Only by marriage. Plus, his wife is Orlesian. And if someone finds out his son is a mage and was possessed by a demon…"

"Why should that matter?" Alistair's jaw clenched.

"He is right, you know," Leliana said. "Even without that… incident, I don't think his claim is strong enough, compared to Loghain. And now… well, just think about it. If Loghain found out, he could even accuse the Arl's family of criminal offences for not reporting the mage child to the Circle and for helping the apostate. And what about Connor? Just think about it. Loghain could even ask for his… well, you know. It would be really better if the Arl did not draw the attention of the Teyrn to his family." Leliana looked at Alistair sympathetically, but her voice was firm and allowed no defiance.

Airam nodded. "Which leaves only one option."

"Please tell me you're not going to say what I think you are!"

"Well, it's either that, or Loghain's daughter remains the queen, with Loghain ruling over the Ferelden in her name."

"But, seriously; you'd make me the king? I'm not a leader, and you know that! I would probably ruin Ferelden in less than a week!"

"So you're going to back away and let Loghain have his way?"

"I–no, but– "

"Ah, my friend, but think of all the advantages! Riches! Comfort! Women! Or cheese, if you'd prefer that." Zevran laughed at the furious look Alistair gave him. If looks could kill, he would be now squirming in agony.

"Alistair." The boy sounded bit desperate. "You are the direct heir of throne, and therefore have stronger claim than anyone else. Even though you are illegitimate child, I'm sure the nobles will accept you, especially if you have the Arl's support. And I'm sure the Arl will not abandon you, even after you become the king."

He would be a fool to do so, when he can be a puppet master with such perfectly willing puppet. But he decided not to say that thought aloud.

Leliana gave Alistair encouraging smile. "And neither will we. I know quite a lot about politics… I could help, if you wished."

It would be a waste of perfect opportunity, to let that pass without the comment. "Is that so? Is that the new teaching of the Chantry? Or do bards learn that with songs and notes?" He knew she heard and understood the hint, but she decided to ignore him completely. Never mind; it would be better to discuss that in private, anyway.

"You worry too much, my friend. Trust the Maker. If you are meant to be the king, He will not abandon you."

"But there must be someone better for this–"

"Oh, I'm certain of that." Zevran chuckled. "And I'm sure quite a few of nobles would gladly take up your offer. The problem would be to decide which one of them should be the king. Not that I complain, such perfect business opportunity for an assassin, yes? The question is if it is really wise to start with the Antivan way of running the country during the Blight?"

Alistair bristled. "Don't you think I know that! I know it's reasonable, and everything, but… ny whole life, I was told I should not even dream of it, that I was to keep my head down, that I should be grateful I was allowed to live. I never even met the king, and I've never talked to Cailan, not unless you count one official greeting which he ignored, anyway… and now they're gone, someone suddenly comes with the crap that we were family? Well you know what? We were not!"

"I know, Al… I'm sorry," said Airam soothingly. "And I won't force you. If… if you're ok with Anora, so am I. But, just think about it, all right? You don't have to decide yet. It's not like we're going to crown you next week or anything, you know."

"Fine, I will think about it. Now, could you please get off my back, or do you need a ladder?"

"Ah, but it was such fun. Are you sure we can't go on, Airam?"

"Mind your tone, Zev. This is the Fereldan crown prince you're talking about."

That was finally the last drop for Alistair; he angrily stormed off to the other end of their little camp and started to ostentatiously polish his sword. He couldn't keep himself from offering his help with polishing the royal sword… which made the poor princeling turn the shade of the ripe tomato, before practically running to the safety of his tent.

oOo

It took a few days before the Arl was strong enough to get up from his bed. They had a peaceful time–no, it was boring. There wasn't much to do; the food was disgusting, the maids mediocre at the best. And Airam almost never had any time for him. Why that should irritate him so much, he had no idea, but it did. All the time, there would be someone requiring the boy's attention, or help, or talk… if it wasn't the First Enchanter, then it was Wynne or Jowan.

The only time they could spend together was during their training; they had moved them to late afternoons, no use to get up that early and only prolong the agony of empty days. But today, they had to give up even that, because the Arl decided he was strong enough for a talk with the Grey Wardens.

So he really wasn't in the best of moods when he went for a walk to the gardens. Those pathetic Fereldan nobles. They probably thought these gardens were so grandiose… any better-off merchant in Antiva could have easily outmatched them. But there was one spot he liked; not perhaps the most beautiful, but nice and quiet, protected from curious glances by a huge tree. He had spent a lot of time there, over the last few days.

This time, however, the spot was occupied. His frown made the other man wince and quickly get up.

"Ah–M-Master Arainai. I–I'm sorry, didn't want to–I'm leaving–" Jowan almost choked on his efforts to apologize, bow, and run away at the same time.

"No, please, by all means, stay. I didn't mean to scare you. There's plenty of room for both of us, yes? And please, call me Zevran. I decided not to be a Master, after all." Jowan looked confused, but he did not bother to elaborate.

"You–you don't mind sitting next to the maleficar?"

"Hmm… let me see. Do you want to boil my blood?"

The mage gave uncertain laugh, as if not sure if he meant it as a joke or not. "No? And what about turning me into your blood slave and have your way with me?"

"I'm not–that's–what the–!" Even Alistair would have been proud of the shade of the deep, crimson red on the mage's face.

"Aaaw, pity. I think I might actually like that. Oh well. Another time, I guess. But back to your question. No, I don't mind it at all. Why should I?"

After a moment of hesitation Jowan sat down next to him. "Most people do. But Grey Wardens are not most of the people, right?"

"What do you mean?" It was his turn to be confused.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean it an offensive way! I just wanted to say, that you, Grey Wardens–"

His sudden laughter scared the poor mage so much he almost ran away. "You think I'm a Grey Warden? Me? Wait–did Airam tell you that?"

"No, but everyone speaks of you as a Grey Warden… so I thought… oh Maker, I'm sorry, if–if that offended you in any way, or something– "

"Ah, calm down. I was not offended, I was honoured." And, surprising as it was, it was true.

"But, if you're not a Grey Warden, how did you meet Airam?"

"Let me see. Alistair is also a Grey Warden, they fought together at Ostagar. Wynne was also there, or so I'm told. But she only joined us after we saved the Tower… you know what happened there?"

Jowan nodded. "Yes, Irving told the story of your brave rescue to everyone willing to listen. And to those unwilling as well. Much to Greagoir's annoyance." He chuckled.

"Morrigan joined in Korcari Wilds, she's a daughter of Witch of the Wilds, Flemeth. Leliana used to be a Chantry sister in Lothering, but she had some kind of vision that told her to join Airam and Alistair. But she stubbornly refuses to tell me, says I would be teasing her. As if I would ever do something so horrendous… Sten was a prisoner with a death sentence for the murder of civilians, but Airam took pity on him, and decided to give him the chance to repent. But he's not very good at it, so far."

The mage looked quite bewildered, and there was a brief pause before he dared to ask. "And you?"

"Yes, well… I… I'm an assassin."

"An assassin?" Jowan looked doubtful. "You're joking again, right?"

"Alas, I am not. Ever heard of Antivan Crows? No? Seriously, what are they teaching you in that Tower? Anyway. I… used to be an Antivan Crow, until our lovely friend decided to spare me and gave me the chance to quit."

"What do you mean, he spared you?"

He didn't answer it immediately, studying the mage's face carefully. it older than Airam… but that didn't mean much. He wasn't that much older than Airam either, only seven years, and yet he sometimes felt as if there was a whole lifetime between them. But this one wanted to get out of the Tower so much he had actually done something about it. Learning blood magic, that could not have been the easiest decision. Especially not in a tower full of Templars. And more than that, this mage actually used it to achieve what he wanted. Not that he liked blood magic; despite what his little Warden said, he still had his reservations about it, but he had to admire determination of this mage to do something about his life, not just passively wait till death comes. And once again, when Loghain gave him the chance to save the woman he loved, the mage did not hesitate to do anything it would take.

"I was hired to assassinate him. I failed. Never had any chance, in fact."

"You! You–wanted to kill Air? And you tell it to me just like that? Maker! Perhaps I should boil your blood!" Jowan jumped on his feet again, looming over him like an overgrown bat.

Sighing, he closed his eyes. Perhaps telling him wasn't such a great idea after all. "Yes, you probably should. An assassin doesn't deserve any mercy. But as you can see, Airam decided to let me live and even allowed me to join him. So I think he wouldn't appreciate it. However, if you wish, you still can turn me into a blood slave and have your way with me. Please, feel free."

There was a moment of silence, and then he heard Jowan sit down again. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm the last person who should judge other people for assassination attempts, as I'm an assassin, too."

"No offense my friend, but you are not. Far from it. If you succeeded, you would be a murderer, but not an assassin."

"And that's supposed to comfort me?" Jowan frowned. "Why would anyone want to assassinate Airam?"

Was this mage really that stupid or was he only pretending it? "Not him specifically. I was hired to assassinate surviving Grey Wardens. By the same person who hired you."

"Teyrn Loghain? That bastard! I wish someone would assassinate him!"

He laughed. "You know, Airam actually asked me to do it. It's not possible, at this moment, but that man has it coming, never doubt that... so, you two were very close?"

"With Airam? He is the only friend I ever had… we were like brothers… before I ruined it all. During the last two years, we were not so close any more."

"But I thought he helped you to escape? Greagoir said so… and he was rather pissed off because of it."

"I don't doubt that. Stupid old fart. If the Bann didn't respect Airam so much and agree to wait for the Arl's decision, I'd be Tranquiled the moment you left for the Ashes. He can't wait till the Arl Eamon is strong enough to hold court. " His voice was bitter, full of regret. "I just hope Airam will convince them to execute me, instead. I don't care if I die, but I don't want to be turned into a mindless puppet."

"Don't be ridiculous. You say you were close as brothers, and you still believe Airam would let them execute you?"

"I know he wants to save me. But even though he's a Grey Warden now, and a hero of Redcliffe, I doubt there's anything he can do for me. I'm a convicted maleficar and a murderer, I have blood on my hands. There's no mercy for me."

"And I'm a convicted assassin, who foolishly tried to finish off the Grey Wardens. And the cra- eh… Airam still saved me, yes? He is not going to let his best friend die, of that I'm sure. He's going to find some way."

"Perhaps it would be better, if I were dead. I'm a complete failure, going from bad to worse... and without Lily… it doesn't have any sense, anyway… I can't save her, no matter how much I'd like."

Tch. So he did give up already, after all. How disappointing… Aren't we a merry lot? Seems we all just love weeping in sackcloth and ashes. "Well, we'll have to wait and see, yes? But in the meantime, let's talk about more pleasant subjects. Could you tell me something about life in the Tower? Anything that will cross your mind. Magic was always fascinating for me."

Of course, most of all he wanted to hear about his little Warden, but from his experience he knew he would learn more if the other person was not fully aware and focused only on the subject–that way a lot of interesting details were usually intentionally skipped. Better let the mage to talk about whatever he wanted; it would be easier to put piece together the whole picture.

"If you spent your whole life in a prison, would you want to talk about it? Most mages are taken from their parents as soon as they're discovered with magic. Some parents try to hide and protect their children; some, like mine, welcome the Templars, happy to get rid of "a demon". I was five when I was brought there, and I hated it from the very first moment.'

"It's that bad?"

"Worse. It's… well, imagine it–you're never alone. Well, except when you're on the latrine. But otherwise, you are constantly followed, constantly watched. Even when you sleep–somebody's always there, watching. And everything is decided for you. What you eat. And when. And where. What you wear. Every activity is set, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Don't you get used to it, after some time?"

"Can a mouse get used to being followed by a cat? Most mages I know hate it. Airam hated it, too. We couldn't wait till we'd get out of the Tower."

"I see." Well, that at least explained why the boy was never relaxed when he knew someone was watching him. "But I thought mages could never leave the Tower, ever."

"No. After Harrowing, a mage can leave if official Circle matter requires it, and under the supervision of a Templar. But usually one must be at least on the level of Enchanter, before he is allowed it. And that takes quite some time. That's why most mages specialize in the most obscure areas, to be sure to come up with some research that hasn't been done yet. And sometimes, if the research is something important for the Circle, they can ask for a mage just past his Harrowing as their personal assistant… but even outside of the Circle, they are always under the First Enchanter's command, and should he decide so, they'd have to return back."

So that's why there were so few mages in the Tower. Well, it was good to know that there will be more than half a dozen mages supporting them when they face the Archdemon. "So what kind of research would you do, if things were different?"

"Well, I doubt anyone would ask for me… I never had any special talent… except for creating troubles, it seems. So I'd be in the Tower for many long years… or probably forever."

"And Airam?"

"Him? Oh, I'm sure half of the mages out there asked for him. He was the star pupil, Irving's personal apprentice… one of the Elite group, as we called them … and if you're wondering if I'm jealous, no, I'm not–not any more, at least. Though I used to be. Quite a lot. And I… almost lost him because of that."

Elite group? Star pupil? Yes, well, no surprises there. He wouldn't expect any less from his little Warden. "What is this Elite group?"

"It's the group of ten best apprentices, the top in everything they do. Air was… he was one of them almost from the beginning. He is, always was, very clever, and has very good memory, so it's easy for him to learn. But, he's also very eager to learn, he loves reading and learning and used to spend all his free time buried under a piles of books."

"Some things don't change," he chuckled. "He still spends his free time buried under a piles of books. But I suspect that didn't make him very popular with other apprentices, yes?"

"Quite right. Now, if you're finished discussing my tragic childhood like a pair of old gossipers at the market, I need Jon to come with me to the Arl."

He had to laugh, when Jowan jumped up again at the sound of Airam's voice-he was wondering how long the crazy kid wanted to stand there, eavesdropping. "I–I'm sorry, Air, I didn't mean to gossip, we were just talking about the Tower…"

"For Maker's sake Jon, stop jumping like that; I'm not going to turn you into a frog or anything. Come on, the Arl is waiting; it took me a lot of time to find you. But. Out with it. What else were you two doing, hiding here? Knowing Zevran, I guess I'm lucky you're still dressed…"

As he watched them, Airam's merciless tormenting of his friend, and Jowan's feeble protests, he thought that Greagoir and the Arl should really think twice before trying to go against the boy.

oOo

Two hours later, the boy banged into his room, with a shaken Jowan in tow. "Zev. Care for a little walk, to the village?"

"Of course, but why so suddenly?"

"Weeell… I want to get lost before Greagoir finds out about the agreement we made with Arl Eamon. And Jon's going with us, if you don't mind."

"Don't worry; I'll lead you out of castle so that nobody will even notice you left, yes?"

And so he did, though those two were far noisier than group of drunkards on their way home from the inn. "So? What happened?" he asked, when they were safely on the road to the village.

"You were right. He really did find the way to save me."

"What, you had doubts?" Airam shot a surprised look at his friend. "You thought I'll turn you over to Greagoir? You can't be serious, Jon. Feeding you to the Archdemon in small pieces would be more merciful than handing you to him."

"Thank you very much… I guess. But I'd prefer to leave the Archdemon hungry and me staying in one piece."

"Please, go on, I'm really curious how you managed this," said Zevran.

"Well, Eamon wanted to execute him, and so did Isolde and Alistair... I'll have to have a word with him, later. But Teagan really surprised me; he said he would support my decision, whatever it would be. And, well, my decision was that we need any help with the Blight we can get."

"You recruited him as a Grey Warden?"

"No, I didn't have to in the end, though I would have done it, if Eamon and Alistair insisted. No, I made it official Circle business. Jowan will be… an external support, sort of. He'll go to Denerim and try to convince the other mages to help us."

"But I thought we already have the mages' support."

"Officially, yes. But it'd be much better if they'd do it willingly, don't you think?"

"And why would they–nothing personal, Jowan, but still–why would they want to listen to a maleficar?"

"He'll be under supervision. There will be one Templar following him everywhere."

"A Templar? And you think that will help?" He didn't want spoil the fun, but he didn't see how the presence of the Templar would be helpful in convincing the mages.

"But you see, this Templar will be Carrol."

"Carrol–you mean our dear Queen of Antiva?" He narrowed his eyes. "Wait. You were planning this all along, weren't you? That's why you requested that fool from the Tower."

Airam was obviously very pleased with himself. "Yes, and it was actually Greagoir who gave me the idea. You must admit he's a great choice. A perfect combination of devoted service to the Maker and sensible will to survive. I don't think the other mages will see him as a threat, either. And Jowan will have official letters, one from Irving, and one from the Grey Wardens, explaining their status and mission."

The more he thought about it, the more he had to agree. It was perfect plan. "If I knew that trying to save your friend would turn you into such great tactician, I'd bring Jowan with us to every single battle."

"Ha, ha. Very funny. Come on, we better hurry up. I would like to back at the castle before nightfall. I do not want to sleep in that disgusting inn."

"Then why are we going there, in the first place? We could just hide somewhere in the castle."

"Well… because… let's say I'm a man that keeps his promises."

"A man?" He laughed, and even Jowan made soft chuckle, but quickly stopped at the furious glance from Airam, though his lips were still twitching. "You mean the promise you gave to Bella?"

The slight flush on the boy's face was answer enough. Walking down the path, he wasn't sure if he should be impressed, amused, or annoyed. Perhaps he should start working on that bet more seriously.