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“I don’t like the way that shem looks at you.”
“You mean Alistair?”
“Yes. He keeps staring at you when he thinks you’re not looking.”
Mahariel laughed and Tamlen’s face softened at the sound of it. Still though, he sent a glare towards the other warden that had the man scurrying over to Wynne’s tent.
“He means well,” she said, amused by his antics.
Tamlen scowled in Alistair’s direction. “I don’t care. He needs to remember his place.” He shuffled closer to Mahariel and burrowed into her for warmth. “All these shemlens around us make me uncomfortable. I can barely sleep at night.”
“You like Leliana well enough.” Mahariel pointed out.
“She’s better than most,” Tamlen admitted, “but she gives me a headache the way she goes on and on about her Maker.”
“What did she say when you told her you don’t believe in the Maker?”
“She was horrified. As was I when I realized the mistake I made in telling her that. She followed me around camp for hours trying to make me ‘see the light.’ Ugh.”
“Hmm, I’d apologize for her…”
“But you’re not sorry.” Tamlen finished dryly.
“Nope,” Mahariel responded with a bright grin, clearly enjoying his discomfort.
Tamlen felt his heart loosen in happiness at that smile. He leaned his forehead against hers and let out a contented sigh. “I know some of them are your friends. I…try to like them as you do, but it’s hard. As long as you’re by my side, though, I can deal with them.”
“Can you?” She murmured, reaching up to touch his face with her fingertips.
Tamlen leaned into her hand and closed his eyes. “I can deal with anything as long as I have you, even this insane business of being a grey warden.”
Mahariel ran her hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?” He asked, opening his eyes in confusion.
She stroked his cheek and looked at him sorrowfully. “For dragging you into this mess. I could have made you go back to the Keeper with me when we found that cave.”
“And I could have stopped my stupid self from touching the mirror,” Tamlen said roughly. “If anyone is to blame, it’s me.”
“I suppose we could claim equal parts of the blame,” she replied with a troubled smile.
“Ma vhenan,” Tamlen purred. He cupped her face in his hands and brought his lips down to softly touch hers, just a whisper of a touch. “Ma vhenan,” he repeated, his lips moving against hers, “the past is the past. We are alive. We are, for the most part, healthy—let us enjoy the present. Don’t you think that would be for the best?”
Breathing shakingly, Mahariel whispered, “Yes, Creator’s willing I think it’s for the best.”
“Good.” Then Tamlen kissed her gently, reverently, and at that moment the world was a sane and wonderful place.