I Am Yours

Chapter 8

Naia's breath caught. Andraste's ass, what's happening here? She remembered Arnas and Lia—Arnas had always been crotchety, but he'd basically been a kind man. Why on earth was he treating Shianni that way?

Shianni watched the older couple go, her arms crossed defiantly. When Naia's next step crunched in the gravel, she turned her head, her expression hard.

"I suppose you shems are here to help us too?" Shianni gave Wynne a particularly nasty look. "Don't you have enough mages for your fake spells?"

She doesn't recognize me, Naia thought. Of course she wouldn't, under this helmet.

The Warden slowly pulled the hat off. "Shianni? It's—it's me," she said hesitantly.

Shianni's face went slack with shock. "Naia?"

For one awful moment, Naia thought Shianni was unhappy to see her. But her cousin's face quickly lit with joy. "Maker's breath, Naia! I can't believe it's really you!" she gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth. "We—we heard the Wardens were all killed at Ostagar. Valendrian even had a funeral for you. But you're here, you're actually here!" Tears glittered in her eyes. "Oh, Maker, I'm babbling, and what's wrong with me?"

She ran forward and threw her arms around Naia in a fierce hug.

Naia dropped her helmet in the dirt and returned the hug just as fiercely. "It's so good to see you," she whispered.

When the two cousins stepped out of their embrace, Naia introduced each of her companions in turn. "Shianni, this is Wynne, a mage of the Ferelden Circle. This is Alistair—he's a Warden too. And this is Zevran."

She wasn't quite sure how to introduce her elven companion. This is Zevran, he tried to kill me, but only once? This is Zevran, he's seen me naked a lot recently?

She settled on, "He's from Antiva."

Zevran bowed. "Shianni. It is a pleasure to meet you at last. You are as lovely as your cousin."

Shianni rolled her eyes. "Oh, really?"

"And just as bad at accepting compliments, I see," Zevran added with a small smile.

Shianni raised an eyebrow. "What can I say, Tabris women are hard to please."

To his great credit, Zevran kept his mouth shut at that.

"Shianni, what in the Maker's name is going on here? I heard things were bad in the alienage, but they wouldn't let me through the gate until now."

"Bad? That's an understatement. A lot has happened since your wedding." Shianni looked around. "Come on. Let's go to your father's house. We should talk in private."

*******

Zevran had not expected to like the Denerim alienage, but it was slowly filling him with a helpless, simmering rage. Naia's home was small and comfortable, at least, and she clearly loved her family. But he could not imagine the spirited, clever Warden growing up in this dusty ghetto.

And then there was the small matter of the wedding Shianni had mentioned. Was Naia married ? Could the man's tunic drying on the hearth belong to a husband she'd left behind? Not that he would have refused to share a married woman's bed, of course, but—he would have thought she would tell him something like that.

Shianni offered the companions tea and Alistair cheerfully volunteered to help carry the mugs. When Wynne stepped aside to light the fire, Zevran and Naia were alone at the table—or, at least, as alone as two people could be in a house smaller than most of the rooms at the Pearl.