Varric Tethras can't stand holding back the truth about Marian Hawke after the Inquisitor leaves her in the Fade to die. What he can't stand more is no one is trying to get her back. With the assistance of friends in surprising places, he fights in...
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Dragon 9:35
"Heart in Hightown?" Hawke had offered me when we walked through the Wounded Coast toward her favorite beach.
They hadn't left any essentials behind. If they were going to stay the day, Hawke needed all the toys and provisions to keep her entertained, full, and happy, including her new mage staff procured from the last batch of bandits we countervailed. And that was just five minutes ago.
Although I couldn't find any viable reason to enjoy a jagged rock mound surrounding more jagged rocks ground into sand that breached my boots any time I even looked at it. Not a building or person in sight and yet Hawke's glowing energy makes it worth the professional cleaning that'll rob my spending money, and make me owe two favors from Lowtown. At least she prefers to carry her own luggage or I'd have to compare myself to a pack mule.
"Are you trying to ruin my reputation? That sounds like a romance novel."
"Some people like those."
"I don't think it has the same tone for the grizzled guardsmen I had in mind.."
She pulled her hammock from the satchel—her usual setup already screwed into two palm trees. Surprisingly nobody has tried to steal the hooks. Maybe others use it too...or she placed wards. She's devious that way.
"Worth a go. I might have read it using that title."
"Oh don't bait me, you're horrible at fishing."
She winked at me. The wink that took down the Arishok a year ago. She would use it on me when she knew she couldn't have the last say. As always, it did exactly what she wanted.
I shiver in the dry heat. Her eyes ice cubes on my skin as she glances back from her bare shoulder. Her muscles twitch as she latches the second hook.
"Your throne, Master Tethras." She begins to stroll away.
Hawke wears a sleeveless white top and loose red pants because she won't be caught enjoying any day in a dress. It's good she didn't wind up in the Circle because even Templars wear skirts.
"Where are you off to?" I said, happy to slide onto the canvas to be further from the sand.
She turns back and almost catches him staring at her hips. Red draws the eye, you know.
"Deep beach exploration," she grins.
"You're not swimming this time?"
I wonder what exactly she brought to swim in. If the band across her chest acting like a bra is part of it, I might object this beach expedition.
"I can do that later."
"Which way you think is best?" I ask. "To the left, we have the livacious dunes of dismay, and to the right the bastion of betrayal and sharp, pointy things."
