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Erina dragged a glove across her forehead, wiping away blood, sweat, grime, and hair as it threatened to fall into her eyes. The last member of the Crows sent to attack her and Zevran fell at her feet with a grunt that she recognized as his final breath. Sometimes she wished that wasn’t knowledge she had now.
A choked sound of pain that she recognized as Zevran’s came from behind her, and she turned immediately to find where he might be. The bronze elf was on his knees beside the body of the Crow’s leader, Taliesen. Erina ran to his side, placing her hand on his leather-clad shoulder.
“You hurt?” she asked, demanding more than requesting.
“No,” Zevran breathed, resting a hand on the forehead of his slain former companion. “I am not wounded, that is.”
Erina looked down at the body of Taliesen, gauging how he had died. Zevran and she had taken to him first to lower the morale of his team. The final blow had been to his throat, though their daggers had each struck home in his gut and kidneys. He was, to say the least, very dead.
“We were friends, once. And more,” Zevran repeated the words he said to Taliesen before the fight broke out.
Erina bit down on her bottom lip, mentally arguing whether she should stay with him or leave him to his feelings. Letting out a brief puff of air, she lowered herself to the ground beside Zevran.
“He meant something to you?”
“He did,” Zevran sighed. “But not enough that I would not kill him. And that must have been true for him, as well, yes?”
“Isn’t that just the life of an assassin? Never having anyone you would not kill?”
Zevran’s brow furrowed. She couldn’t tell if he was thoughtful or emotional, and she regretted the question immediately. It was so loaded, with whatever was going on between them, with her tenuous trust placed in him; now was simply not the time to question that.
“I’m sorry,” Erina started. “That was… not the right thing to say.”
“No, perhaps it was,” Zevran spoke quietly, lowering his hand on Taliesen’s bloodied face so that the corpse’s eyes slipped closed. “Perhaps that is what an assassin is.”
“I’m still sorry. It can’t be easy, killing a fellow Crow. One that you… were close to.”
His golden smile flashed at her briefly, but there was conflict still in his eyes. “It is in the past, Erina. He simply did not make me an offer worth putting myself against your formidable forces again. A wise decision, it seems.”
Erina shrugged, uncomfortable. “That doesn’t mean you don’t want time to say goodbye, or… something. I’ll leave you, if you’d like.”
“No, I do not need to grieve. He is gone, and I am free. Moreso than I was before, at least.” Zevran beamed at Erina.
“How do you figure?”
“Well, the Crows sent Taliesen to finish the job because they knew our ties were close. They would never dream that I would turn against him. Therefore, I joined him, and we both fell in this battle. Provided I keep my head down, they need never know I still breathe.”
Erina tilted her head. “The Crows bet on Taliesen?”
“Yes. Wisely, I might add.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You were tempted?”
Zevran laughed. “No. I quite enjoy living the mostly-free life.”
“What if Taliesen had offered to run away from the Crows with you?” Erina asked, staring down at the body.
Zevran’s laughter came short. He cleared his throat and began a few sentences unsuccessfully. “I… that is not what happened. Nor would it be a possibility, I’m afraid.”
“You broke free, didn’t you?” Erina pressed him. “And you were close to him. Is it so impossible?”
“I would rather not continue down this line of questioning,” Zevran said brusquely, in a tone she had never heard him use before. He stood up suddenly, and Erina was left gaping after him.
“Zevran, wait.” She got to her feet and followed.
“There is too little time in life to waste it on guessing games and possibilities, Warden,” he called over his shoulder at her.
She stopped chasing him, gritting her teeth in frustration at his wily escape from her conversations.
“What was all that about?” Morrigan asked, approaching Erina with her staff in hand.
“Nothing,” Erina shrugged and sighed. She’d rather not admit that she had been attempting to have a real conversation with Zevran. Morrigan would simply laugh.
And Erina wasn’t quite ready to admit to herself what she had been asking him.
Who would you have picked?