Loghain nodded. “I was willing to accept her as a messenger, even one of Arl Byron’s agents . . . but these skills she’s shown, the knowledge she possesses. This is no simple elven servant, Maric.”
Maric stiffened, feeling his anger growing. “And even if she isn’t, why is this a bad thing?”
“Maric . . . ,” Loghain said uneasily.
“She came to my defense,” Maric insisted, “when she could just as easily have helped those soldiers kill us. She’s offered her knowledge freely, when she could just as easily have led us into the usurper’s hands.” His eyes narrowed. “What is it, exactly, that you think she’s done?”
“I don’t know that she’s done anything,” Loghain said truthfully. “All I know is that she makes me uneasy.”
Rowan took a deep breath. “Consider that you may not be very objective about her, Maric,” she stated evenly.
Maric paused, taken aback. And then he saw the hurt pride in Rowan’s eyes. She was trying to hide it, but it was obvious even to him that she wanted to be anywhere other than here.
“Oh,” he muttered, his anger quickly dissolving. He had practiced a hundred times how to tell Rowan about Katriel, and it figured that when it happened, it would be like none of those times. He had wanted to tell her. He had wanted to say that Katriel made him feel capable, he didn’t have to prove anything to her. But how would that sound? It wasn’t that he felt the need to prove himself to Rowan, exactly. She had known him as a child, she knew his every fault and his every mistake better than he did. He loved Rowan, it was simply . . . different.
Part of him had hoped that Rowan would understand. As teenagers, they had both complained bitterly about their parents’ arrangement, had secretly laughed at the idea that they would someday be married. Surely she didn’t . . .
But she did, didn’t she? As Rowan stared at him, it occurred to him that she had not complained about their betrothal for many years. And he couldn’t claim ignorance, not really. If he truly didn’t know how she felt, it wouldn’t have been so difficult to tell her about Katriel, would it?
“Rowan,” he said gravely. “I didn’t want to tell you like this.”
“I know.”
“Tell her what?” Loghain asked, looking as if he had swallowed something sour. He looked from Maric to Rowan and back . . . and then his face became still. Very slowly, he turned and looked at Rowan, his eyes pained. “Ah,” was all he said.
“I don’t know what to say,” Maric pleaded quietly. “I never thought . . . I mean, we never talked about this, not for years. We were always at war, I didn’t think—”
“Stop,” Rowan said calmly. “This isn’t the place to talk about it.”
“But . . .”
Her eyes met Maric’s. “Just tell me one thing: Did it continue? Past that first night?”
Maric felt helpless. He had never wanted to hurt Rowan, but it had already been done. There was nothing he could say to make it better. “Yes,” he said helplessly.
Rowan nodded slowly. Loghain turned and looked at Maric in surprise. “Maker’s breath, man! Do you love her?”
Maric flinched. Far better for Loghain to have taken a knife and stabbed it into his back. Rowan stared down at the ground, but Maric knew she was listening intently. He took a deep breath and exhaled raggedly. “Yes,” he said, “I think I do.”
Even if Rowan had expected the answer, Maric could tell it still hurt her. She avoided looking at him, her face hard as stone. He felt cruel. Loghain stared at him in disbelief.
Maric took a deep breath.
“I’ll end it,” he said quietly. He looked up at Rowan, his jaw set and his expression firm. “I never wanted to hurt you, Rowan. I should have known better. You are important to me, you have to know that. If this is how you feel, then I’ll end it. Katriel and I are through.”
There was a long and awkward pause. The silence in the caverns loomed larger, and for a moment Maric wished for the sound of wind, the cries of birds far overhead, even the clicking sounds of the spiders. Anything but the wall of silence.
Finally Rowan looked at him, her expression hard. “No. That’s not what I want.”
“But—”
“What I want,” she insisted icily, “is for you to listen to what we’re saying. How do you explain these inconsistencies about Katriel?”
Maric sighed. He stared at Rowan, wanting to talk about anything else, but she was determined. “She’s an elf,” he stated helplessly, “and she’s an extraordinary woman, one with skills that we should be thankful for. She saved all of our lives, if you’ve forgotten.” He stopped and looked at the two of them reproachfully. “And even if I agreed with these suspicions of yours, do you really think I could just leave her down here? Nobody deserves that fate.”
Loghain rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should question her, then, see if she—”
“No. Enough, both of you.”
Loghain and Rowan exchanged looks again, reluctantly nodding. They didn’t like it, but they clearly hadn’t been all that committed to just leaving Katriel behind, either. Maric wasn’t certain why they thought he might agree to it. The thought of leaving anyone down in this spider-infested blackness made his skin crawl.
