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Rook followed Emmrich through the doors and stood entranced by the sight in front of her. The gardens of the Necropolis stretched as far as she could see, bright spots of flowers vibrant in the shadows. "Oh, my."

He smiled at her, delighting in her reaction. "Yes, the gardens are particularly beautiful. I often come here to clear my thoughts."

"I can see why." Rook walked forward, lightly, looking all around her. He had woken the dead for her twice on their way through the halls, treating each skeletal figure with tenderness and respect. Watching his hands, with their long sensitive fingers, weave the spells, made her breath catch in her throat. How long had it been since she'd found a man as beautiful as she found him? She couldn't remember. "You should bring Bellara here." The words were out before she had time to think of them. The eager conversations, the way they bonded over their work—she couldn't help but wonder if he and Bellara were bonding in other ways, as well.

"Bellara?" Emmrich looked around in surprise. It hardly seemed like the elven engineer's type of place.

"Yes. I'm sure she'd have many questions."

"Likely so." Much as Emmrich liked Bellara's inquisitive spirit, the garden wasn't the place for questions. It was the place for quiet enjoyment, for the peace and wonder he saw in Rook's face. "Perhaps it would be a nice change for her. She could use some rest."

"True."

"As could you," he added softly. So many of his companions gave up too much of their sleep, but it was Rook who concerned him the most.

She smiled. "Don't worry about me."

"I can't help it." It was dangerously close to admitting the tenderness he felt for her, the longing to care for her as she should be cared for, and he cleared his throat and moved past her, farther into the garden. "Thank you again for coming with me. The rites of remembrance are an important part of my duties."

Manfred joined them, looking over the arrangements of skeletons. He gave an eager hiss.

"Indeed. They serve as a warning now," Emmrich said, responding to his young charge's implied question. "Don't linger overlong in the gloom. Live with grace and fervor, while you may." Looking down at the vivid blue topknot on the crown of Rook's head, he blessed the impulse that had sent him to her. If anyone knew how to live with grace and fervor, she did.

She nodded, looking around. "It's like being in a very, very specialized museum."

Emmrich laughed. "Yes." He woke a skeleton, and they listened together to its story. He looked over the skeletons with a critical eye, noting every adjustment that needed to be made. Well, the novices would learn.

A wisp came dancing around Rook's shoulder, and she stopped and smiled at it. "Hi." She gave Emmrich a swift questioning glance. "Should I say hi?"

"Of course. It's curious about you."

He watched as Rook and the wisp played for a moment, delighting in her enthusiasm. "We have a ritual to complete, my friend," he told it at last. "On your way."

The wisp blinked and drifted off, and Rook smiled. "Spirits really are your specialty."

"I've always had a rapport with them, even when I was a child."

"When you started your training?"

He shook his head. "When I was orphaned."

"Oh."

"A collapsed building; swift deaths. After the funeral, the Watchers took me in."

"Belated condolences, if that means anything."

He always found it surprising how soft she could be when she wanted to, given the decisiveness with which she led.

Manfred was in front of the final set of candles, and Emmrich gently asked him to move along.

"Harding said Manfred used to be a wisp, until you gave him a body?"

"Yes. And he's taken so well to it!"

"A little too well, if you ask Davrin." Rook laughed at a memory. "Apparently Manfred and Assan are ganging up on him, demanding treats."

"Ah, Manfred. Well, curiosity and mischievousness are not unrelated." Emmrich smiled to cover the pang he felt when she mentioned the Grey Warden's name. The two of them seemed so well suited, both so strong and practical. Both so young.

He finished the rite, finding focus and comfort in the familiar words, in the presence of the spirits.

They ambled through the gardens together.

"I was afraid here, when I was a child. Not of the Necropolis itself, but what was draped around it." Emmrich hesitated before asking, "Have you ever been frightened by the thought of dying, Rook?"

"Hasn't everyone, from time to time?"

"When I was younger, it happened more often than that," he admitted. "That's when I discovered I possess a great … terror of dying. It goes beyond dread. It can't be reasoned with, or soothed over. It comes without warning. In the dead of night … in sunlit streets."

Rook reached out to touch his arm. "Then joining us was particularly brave."

Emmrich flushed, feeling those small strong fingers on his sleeve. "Perhaps. But that's maudlin enough." They had reached the small table and chairs he'd had Manfred set up. His charge was ready with the tea. Bless Manfred, he always knew the right timing. He gestured to the table. "What sort of host would I be if we didn't end with some light refreshment?"

Rook's brown eyes met his, and warmth filled him. "Did you set all this up just to impress me?"

"Um …"

She smiled, her whole face lighting. "Because it's working."

Had he felt warm? He was positively melting. Emmrich held out his arm, and she tucked her small hand into the crook of his elbow. He was grateful for the opportunity to do something to bring peace to her chaotic days. "Then it is my pleasure to share the tranquility of this place with you."

Manfred poured the tea, and they talked … mostly of the Lighthouse, and the battles to come, but her eyes kept meeting his, open and honest and clear, and that was more than enough.