“Rowan,” Maric began, “maybe we should talk, go and—”
She stood up quickly, brushing the black soot off her armored legs. “There’s no need,” she said coldly. “I get it. You love her. I just wish you had told me. I could have released you from any obligation you might have felt.”
There was nothing Maric could say to that. She collected the pack, pointedly ignoring him. “I’m going to try to wash up a bit. Excuse me.” Without looking back, she marched off to the dark recesses in the back of the chamber.
Loghain shot Maric a look that had “you are an idiot” written all over it. “Take care of the fire. Give us a shout if Katriel wakes up.” Then he followed after Rowan.
Maric sighed, leaning back on his elbows and wincing as the uneven rocks behind him jutted into his back. At some point, everything had gone wrong. His plan had been a failure, he’d gotten most of his army and Rowan’s father killed, and he’d betrayed Rowan’s trust. Perhaps even Loghain was angry at him now. And he didn’t know if any of it was fixable. Even if they managed to get through these tunnels somehow and reached Gwaren in time, would it be just to see the remnants of the rebel army be crushed once and for all? Did he really want to be present for that?
But why were they taking out their anger on Katriel? He just couldn’t get it. He could understand Rowan, maybe. He had sensed tension between her and Katriel previously, and now it made sense why it had been there. But Loghain? Loghain was normally a sensible man. Why would he express baseless suspicions? Why would he urge Maric to abandon Katriel here? It made no sense that she was here to harm them. She’d had every opportunity to do so—why would she help them first?
He stared into the flickering campfire, slowly becoming mesmerized by the flames as they consumed the wood. The fire was slowly ebbing, and he knew he should tend to it, add some more fuel, but he found he preferred the shadows as they crept closer. He preferred the chill in the air. The thought that there could be spiders crawling closer seemed unreal, somehow.
“You are right,” came a quiet voice nearby.
Maric turned over to see Katriel’s eyes opened. She slowly sat up, her green eyes looking distant and sad. For a moment, she looked around at the ruined chamber, at the dome above and the rubble, satisfying whatever curiosity she felt about their location.
“You’re awake!” he exclaimed, crawling quickly over toward her. He took her hand and helped her move by the fire. “How do you feel? Does it hurt?”
She seemed glad to be near the fire, and turned her head awkwardly to study the large bandage on her shoulder. “It’s throbbing, a bit.” Her tone was unconcerned. She looked back at Maric, her expression nervous. “Did you hear what I said?”
“You said I was right. I don’t hear that very often.”
“I was listening,” she began, staring into the fire glumly. “And you are right. We should not be together.”
“No, don’t listen to me,” he protested.
“You should listen to your friends.” Katriel looked at him, the dim fire shrouding her delicate face in shadows. She spoke with sad resignation. “Why do you defend me, Your High—Maric? You know nothing about me. Yet you keep defending me against your friends, against your countrymen. . . . You need to stop.” She seemed actually concerned, emphatically placing a soft hand atop his. “You need to stop defending me. Please.”
Maric took her hand in his, rubbing it tenderly. He found it amazing how even half covered in soot, she still felt softer than anything he had ever known. He smiled at her ruefully. “I can’t do that. Just because you’re an elf, they can’t say those things about you. I know they’re not true.”
“It is not because I am an elf.”
“A stranger, then. Or a woman. A woman I happen to love.”
The word seemed painful to her, and she turned her head away from him, on the verge of tears. “You really are a fool,” she muttered. “How can you say such a thing to someone you have known such a short time?”
He reached up and gently took her chin in his hand, turning her head back into the light. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Oh, I know you,” he whispered to her. “I may not know what you’ve done or where you’ve been, but I see who you are. I know that you’re a good person, and worthy of love.” He reached up with his thumb and wiped away a tear on her cheek. “How is it that you don’t know that?”
She cast her eyes down and reached up with a hand to remove his hand from her cheek. For a moment it looked as if sobs would overwhelm her, but she choked back more tears. “I am not who I pretend to be,” she confessed.
“Neither am I,” he replied.
Katriel looked up at him, her confusion genuine.
Maric chuckled ruefully. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been pretending to be a prince? To be this man that everyone looks up to? Someone that they’d be willing to fight for? To put on the throne?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Can you imagine if they succeeded? The joke would’ve been on them, wouldn’t it? Maybe it’s better it ended this way.”
Her mouth opened and closed several times as if she meant to speak, but no words came out. Finally she sighed in resignation. “It hasn’t ended,” she said quietly. “There is always something that can be done. Always.”
“See?” He smiled. “This is why I like you so much.”
She smiled back, but it was melancholy. Her strange elven eyes searched his, looking for . . . what? He couldn’t tell. “Maric—” She took a breath. “—you should know—”
“I know,” he cut her off, “everything I need to know. I don’t care who you were. I care who you are now.”
Katriel blinked back new tears, unsure how to respond.
