So he said nothing.
There was silence for a time, and then Rowan backed off reluctantly. Loghain sighed heavily and turned away. He couldn’t face those eyes.
“Loghain,” Maric began slowly, “I know you never promised you would stay. I know I was dumped in your lap and all of this should never have happened.” He grinned sadly and shrugged. “But it did. You’re here and I’ve come to rely on you. We all have, even the Arl. Please don’t walk away from this.”
Holding tightly on to the staff, Maric got down on his knees. Alarmed, Rowan ran over to support him, to try to pull him back up, but he refused. The staff quivered, and he grunted with effort as he dropped down fully and then looked up at Loghain. “Please, I’m begging you. You and Rowan are the only friends I have.”
Rowan stopped short, her hand flinching away from Maric as if he were red hot. She stiffly backed away from him, her face a mask of stone.
Loghain stared down at Maric, horrified by the grandiose gesture. Worse, he felt his resolve crumbling. This had felt so much clearer in the night. Now he felt like a coward. “You are opening your wound,” he complained at Maric.
Maric winced, holding his bandaged side gingerly. “Umm . . . probably, yes.”
“Must be from all the exertion,” Rowan commented dryly.
Loghain shook his head in disbelief. “Maker’s breath, man, aren’t you supposed to have some dignity? Somewhere?”
“Me? Dignity?”
“Being the supposed future King and such.”
“I think Rowan took my dignity.”
She snorted derisively, folding her arms. “There was nothing else worth having.”
Maric chuckled and then looked up at Loghain again, serious. “So does this mean you’re staying, then? I practically ran here in my smallclothes, you know.”
“If you had, that would certainly make this quite the picture, wouldn’t it?”
“I’m serious.” Loghain could see that he was, serious beyond a doubt. “I don’t think we can do this without you.”
Apparently he should have sneaked off while it was still dark, leaving his leathers and everything else behind. Because there was no other way he was going to escape, was there? He sighed irritably at Maric. “Well, if you intend to come running after me every time I try to leave—”
“Not every time.”
“Very well. I’ll stay.”
Maric grinned broadly and struggled to stand back up, but did so far too quickly. He cried out in pain and almost fell, but Rowan rushed forward and caught him first. Her armor scratched against his bare chest, and he flinched in her arms, laughing at the same time. “Ow! Careful with those!”
“How very manly you are, my prince,” she sighed.
They laughed and smiled at each other, a moment that quickly faded as Rowan’s smile faltered. After she helped Maric to his feet, she moved away. He glanced after her, baffled, before the quickly spreading bloodstain on his bandages drew his attention. “Ahhh,” he breathed, “Wilhelm will frown at me for certain now!”
Loghain regarded his warhorse, standing there all saddled up and ready to go. With a silent shake of his head, he began untying the bags. Rowan turned to go, but Maric held up his hands to stop her. “Wait!” he shouted. Then he grabbed the staff and quickly hobbled out the door, a man on a mission.
She stared after him, frowning. “What has he planned now?”
Loghain shrugged. “With him, it could be anything.”
The two of them stood there in the dust and hay listening to the faint sounds of commotion outside and the occasional nickering of the horses. Loghain thought he should speak, but as the tension built, it seemed to become an insurmountable obstacle. He returned his attention to the saddle, feeling Rowan’s eyes on his back.
After what seemed like forever, she spoke, her voice pained and hesitant. “Were you leaving because of me?”
He stopped. “I was leaving because I was the lesser man. According to you.”
She flinched.“I . . . shouldn’t be the only reason you stay.”
“You’re not.” He turned toward her, his gaze hard. “He is.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes brimming with tears she didn’t shed. He didn’t have to say anything else. They stood where they were, the distance between them filling the entire room, neither of them speaking. The moment stretched into agony.
Loghain wondered if he would have to remember this moment, if he would have to memorize the curve of her jaw, the gray eyes that blinked at him from under those brown curls, the strength behind her desperately unhappy frown. He wondered if he would need this memory as a shield, if he was indeed going to stay. Surely he was mad.
Eventually Maric hobbled back through the door, Arl Rendorn and several other soldiers in tow. Rowan and Loghain looked away in different directions, their moment abruptly ended. The Arl appeared nonplussed and quizzically looked at Maric, who seemed rather pleased with himself.
“I think we need to do what we were discussing a few days ago, Your Grace,” Maric announced, breathing heavily and sweating from all the running about.
The Arl looked dubiously at Maric. “You mean now?” Then he noticed the warhorse and the packs, and frowned. “Going somewhere?” he asked Loghain directly.
Loghain shrugged. “Not anymore.”
“Yes, I think we should do it right now,” Maric insisted.
Arl Rendorn chewed on that thought for a moment as the other soldiers looked at him questioningly. Then he nodded. “As you wish. Perhaps it is for the best.” He turned to face Loghain. “Loghain Mac Tir, you have served your prince well in these past years. You have proved yourself to be an able leader of men, and there is—”
“Wait,” Loghain interrupted. “I said I would stay, I don’t need—”
“Let me finish.” The Arl smiled. “There is not a day that has passed where Maric and I have not commented on how we value your presence. Your current rank is no indication of your importance to our cause. Thus, despite your lack of knighthood, we feel it is fitting that you be given the rank of commander.”
Loghain had been about to interrupt again, sensing some kind of reward forthcoming—but he stopped short. He’d no idea that Maric intended this. The protest caught in his throat, and he stared at the Arl, flabbergasted. Maric grinned in delight.
“This places you immediately beneath me in the chain of command, Loghain,” the Arl continued. “My orders to the other officers will be relayed through you, and I would expect you to take on more logistical duties. This is provided, of course, that you are willing to accept the promotion?” The corner of the Arl’s mouth twitched ever so slightly with amusement. “You have proved yourself to be . . . unpredictable over such matters in the past, after all.”
Loghain stared, his mouth agape.
“It’s not a bribe,” Maric mentioned. “I just wanted you to know that I was—”
“I’ll do it.” The words tumbled out of Loghain’s mouth almost before he realized he was saying them. He looked up and saw the Arl’s hand offered to him and shook it numbly.
“Well done.” The Arl grinned.
Loghain retrieved his hand and turned toward Maric, who was grinning and offering his own hand. Loghain stood there silently and stared at it as if he had no idea what it signified.
After a moment, Maric awkwardly lowered his hand. “Err . . . is something wrong?”