Wicked Graces

Chapter One

Ferventis, 9:38 Dragon—Seven miles south of Starkhaven

"Explain to me why you're doing this again, Hawke. The Templars' bluster is just that, bluster, and besides, once this coronation is over, there'll be no turning back. You do realize that, right?"

Varric Tethras shifted in his saddle and coughed into his shoulder to hide the grunt of discomfort that followed. His backside throbbed, both legs felt numb, and the pulse of his sciatic nerve promised the two of them would be up half the night trying to find a comfortable sleeping position without the promise of a stiff drink to ease the pain. He didn't care how fancy the pillows were—and he was sure they were going to be unbelievable—he would find no comfort at Castle Vael. Knowing Sebastian, the entire city was probably dry, which meant his stay was going to feel overly long, no matter if it lasted three days or three weeks.

He had no idea how Hawke would manage a life there. Not that she wasn't legitimate by reputation and title to become Starkhaven's princess, and she certainly had the drive and leadership skills to rein in a nation, but some people weren't born to sit still and that made them somewhat apathetic when it came to thrones. She'd taken the mantle of Champion with pride, but her reluctance to accept the position as Viscountess of Kirkwall spoke volumes about how suitable she would likely be to rule Starkhaven with Sebastian. It seemed like the moment the Templars started pushing, her experience with the Knight-Commander made it easier for her to walk away, but she didn't have to. She was viscountess, still in a position to govern and negotiate on Kirkwall's behalf. And besides, she was going to die of boredom in that place. Much like the prince who'd reclaimed his rule, Varric imagined even the trappings in Starkhaven were snoozeworthy, which brought him back to the central point that launched his entire thought sequence: What in Andraste's name were they doing there?

Hawke's jaw clenched, the muscles tightening and protruding as her back teeth came together and her lips twisted toward her ear in a scowl she did nothing to hide. She brought a hand up to brush the loose strands of black hair from her face and scanned the rising hills. Blue eyes reflected rolling layers of brilliant green decked in white marble columns and spires, the entire image looking as though it'd come straight out of a children's storybook. Bold heraldry fluttered in the crisp afternoon breeze rustling through her hair, the colors providing stark contrast to the peaceful atmosphere. A statement, to be sure, those flags were almost enough to make the dwarf reevaluate his impressions of the do-gooder that somehow managed to sway Hawke's heart. Almost... but not quite.

The banners alternated: Starkhaven's flowing black koi against bold red fabric and the Amell family crest—bright red over black. A joining of more than just two houses, those banners brooked an everlasting peace between two cities. Sebastian Vael promised her a kingdom, no less than she deserved, and he'd delivered with an inspiring ease the dwarf hadn't expected from a man who'd seemed plenty of talk and very little walk since the day they met. Hawke had that effect on people, driving them to get things done. She was one of the few people he knew who delivered results on just about everything she did, and while he certainly hadn't expected Choir Boy to follow through on his promises, with Hawke in his corner Varric shouldn't have been surprised.

She released a breath, the stream pulsing through the errant strands of hair that landed back in her face the moment she dropped her hand against the horn of her saddle. "I've explained it several times already, Varric. Will one more careful placement of syllables and phrases make sense of it all for you?"

Still prickly, he noted.

Sarcasm was Hawke's native tongue, a tongue as sharp as the twin blades she sported on her back and used to slice their enemies into tiny, indiscernible pieces. It was one of the reasons they got along so well, but in the weeks before departing from Kirkwall she'd become extraordinarily moody, and he couldn't help but wonder how much of it had to do with her move to Starkhaven.