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For the first few days, she's numb.
Shock, Maura supposes. It must be. But she doesn't care, not about that, and not about the Grey Wardens.
She travels with Duncan only because she had nowhere else to go. Because he is going to Ostagar, where Cailan is, and that's where she wants to be.
If anyone can give her her family justice, it's the king. And that's all she has left, really. Justice.
She sleeps fitfully during the nights, dreaming of blood. Of Oren's body, so small and pale. Of her father's blood on her mother's hands.
Of Duncan, forcing her father to swear her to the Wardens, tainting their last moments together. She resents him for it.
She resents him for a great many things, not the least of which is daring to live while Bryce Cousland lay dead.
They speak only when they need to, and otherwise travel in silence. Maura supposes she ought to be grateful.
She isn't.
When Duncan finally breaks his silence, she doesn't know how to respond. She can hear her mother telling her to be polite, hear her father remind her that the Warden deserves her respect.
But those are only phantoms. Her parents are dead.
"What?" she says, so unused to speech and lost in her own misery that she misses his words at first.
Duncan, infuriatingly patient, repeats himself.
"Are you well? I wanted to give you time to mourn, but you can't mourn forever."
aura glances over at him. They are on a well-worn forest path, and she can smell the fresh shores of Lake Calenhad.
Suddenly, the numb feeling disappears. It vanishes, like it never existed, and she is so angry. At Duncan, at the world, at the Maker.
At Rendon Howe, most of all.
Her voice is ice, colder than the winters at Highever castle ever were, when she speaks.
"My family is dead," she says. "They've been murdered. I will mourn for the rest of my life. And I will have no rest until that bastard Howe is dead."