The Stolen Throne

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.

“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?