Denerim Confidential

Chapter 20

As soon as she hung up the phone, Fiona let her emotions free. Magic flared from her clenched hands, creating sparks of lightning and small flares of fire all at once.

With difficulty, she pulled the magic back into her. She had needed to relieve her feelings, but Maker, Uldred would pay for this, for meddling in her life, for threatening Alistair's when he had done nothing to deserve it. She could guess what her fellow mage wanted—an empty Grand Enchanter's seat, and the chance to move into it himself. A stupid plan. Uldred might be a significant man in Denerim, but he had never been outside of Ferelden, had never been obligated to play politics with people like Vivienne de Fer. He would not find that promotion as easy to grab as he seemed to think.

A thousand plans launched in her mind, a thousand potential ways to take Uldred's career down in flames. She even found brief satisfaction in the image of him with a brand on his forehead—but she found that she could not wish that fate even on Uldred.

Not, of course, that his fate would be up to her in the end.

She checked the buttons on her Enchanter's jacket, smoothed her hair, and rose from her desk to find Greagoir. But she had not even placed her hand on the doorknob when a sharp knock interrupted her steps.

"Who is there?" she called.

When the door opened without her permission, she knew it must be a Templar. And indeed, a young man barely out of the Academy stepped into her room, his silver suit gleaming in the last light of the day.

"I am very sorry, Grand Enchanter. But I am here to tell you that the Circle has been locked down. A mage has left the grounds without permission."

Fiona wanted to laugh, or scream. Instead, she merely nodded, keeping her feelings in as best she could. "I see. Very well, then. Could you ask the Knight-Commander to see me at his earliest possible convenience?"

She knew that would likely not be for several hours yet—she might even have to wait until morning. But at least she had the comfort of knowing that Uldred, too, would be trapped in his chambers for the time being.

And Maker willing, tomorrow, she could still see Alistair.

*******

"You really didn't know anything about what happened to Jowan, did you?" Max asked as they walked towards the door of the Circle.

Mei cinched her scarf tighter. Even though they would not be outside much longer, she was tempted to cast a fire spell to warm the air around them—it was another bitterly cold day. It had also been a frustrating one. So far, Denerim's apostate scene had been difficult to penetrate, even with Detective Leto's information added to their own—and all of the groups they had investigated seemed to lack the organization and the ambition to threaten someone like Fiona.

Nothing. We have nothing. And now Max Trevelyan wanted to bring up Jowan again.

"I heard the official story—that he had escaped and was now a wanted apostate," she told him. "But the blood magic, the Templar lover, Tranquility—no."

Max's brow furrowed. "Maker. How could you not have known? I know you weren't here when it happen but I figured the gossip would be all over the Circle."

Mei snorted. "Between the Templars, maybe. But no one tells the mages anything."

Not even Cullen, a little nagging voice whispered. She had never thought to ask her lover if there was more to Jowan's story. But he had not volunteered that information, either, and he knew that they had been friends. She suspected he had wanted to spare her ugly details—but no. Ignorance was no kindness.