Denerim Siege

Chapter 28

This is torture. This is literally torture, Naia thought, leaning her head back against the car's headrest with a groan. Patience had never been one of her virtues, and yet here she was, trapped in the backseat of a car while absolutely nothing happened except waiting, waiting, and more waiting.

"Eight on the dot," Juliet said from the front seat. Her friend's eyes were focused on Fenris. "Do we assume they're not going to make their move? We stole a lot of lyrium last night."

Fenris's hands tightened on the steering wheel. Underneath the silver tattoos, his knuckles were turning nearly white. "I do not know," he said, almost helplessly. "I had thought he would not abandon his plan. Perhaps I was mistaken."

"I think it is rather early to let our guard down, no?" Zevran suggested. "He may still be finding ways to cope with the loss of his lyrium. Or attempting to win those who abandoned him back to his side."

There was an odd glitter in Zevran's eye when he talked about Danarius. It took Naia a moment to realize what it was: a desire for revenge. She supposed she should have recognized the emotion earlier, since she shared it. Her entire body was humming with nervous energy; it felt as if an invisible wind were rushing past her ears, making it hard to concentrate.

When she looked at Zevran, though, something like calm seemed to fill her.

Naia was not entirely at ease with that realization. Whatever she and Zev had, it was new—incredibly new—and forged in the midst of a crisis. She shouldn't be relying on it to guide her through the rest of this fight. And yet. And yet.

Nice work, Tabris. Sleep with the guy once and twenty-four hours later you're head over heels.

It was twice, a little voice inside her whispered. Three times counting last night.

With a frown, Juliet flicked on the radio. Naia expected to hear the classical music station she knew Fenris favored, but no soothing strings played. Instead, there was a crackle of static, and then words that made her hair stand on end.

" ... life feed from the City Council chambers, where a man who claims responsibility for the recent magical attacks has interrupted the hearings."

The voice that followed was hard to hear; it sounded as though the recording microphone was far away. But every word cut through Naia like a knife.

"You think your Guard will come to your defense? That they can stand against our power? Your Guard has failed every attempt to catch us."

"Danarius," Naia whispered. Fenris didn't speak, but in the rearview mirror, she could see the blood drain from his face.

Another voice, this one louder and Ferelden-accented, came over the radio. "The Templar Order will never ..."

"Go on, Councilman Mac Tir. Call the Lord Seeker. Greta, be a dear and fetch the Councilman a phone."

As if the answer matters, Naia thought, shaking her head. The Templars can't get here in time.

But we can.

Evidently, Naia was not the only one who thought so. With a screech of tires, Fenris put the car into gear and pulled into the street, already racing towards the Council building.

********

Max knew what kind of answer Lucius Corbin was going to give. Even so, when the Lord Seeker's voice crackled to life over the speakerphone, he held his breath, hoping against hope that the public setting would shame Lucius into doing the right thing.