“You’re the Commander of the Grey in Orlais. It’s no trick.”
“I haven’t picked up a sword in years! There was a Grey Warden who came to our village when I was young, and he spoke about recruitment, but I was not good enough. My brother convinced me to give it up! No, I remember that clearly!”
“But it’s not true.”
“It is!” She shook her fist at him, her voice taking on a tone of desperation. “My brother is a chevalier, a general in the Empress’s army! He has a wife, and a son! He is nothing like the miserable man in my dream!”
“He is a Grey Warden, like you. Or he was. We’re searching for him.”
“No, no!” She turned away, putting her hands to her head as if she needed to keep it from exploding. Duncan was growing a bit worried that perhaps he was pushing too hard. But what else was he supposed to do? It’s not like he could leave and come back some other time when she’d had a chance to think about it. “I saw him just two months ago! He brought my nephew, and he is so deliriously happy!” She stopped, stunned, and slowly turned back to glare at Duncan dangerously. “What about Guy? Are you saying that he doesn’t exist, as well?”
He took a step back. He remembered that look. If there was anything about this woman who reminded him of the warrior he knew, there it was. Did that make it a good thing? He couldn’t tell. “He … died.”
“He’s alive,” she insisted, her voice steel. “You’re trying to take my husband away from me, the one thing that has made my life worth living. The one thing I cherish above anything else!”
“I’m not!” he protested. “You don’t have a husband!”
“Only because you murdered him!” she roared, her face red with rage. She made as if she were going to charge Duncan, her fists raised, but she stopped herself almost immediately. Her whole body shook with fury, but her eyes blinked with horrified realization.
“And how would you know that,” he asked slowly, “unless you knew who I was?” He cautiously approached her. “Because you do know, don’t you? You just don’t want to know.”
With a scream of rage, Genevieve dashed across the room, scooping up one of the swords leaning against the wall and spinning on Duncan. He saw the murder in her eyes and had his knives out even as she rushed at him. He parried her first blow, but her second almost tore one of the daggers from his hand. This was not the fighting of a woman who hadn’t picked up a blade in years, but of a seasoned veteran.
“Stop!” he shouted, but she pressed the attack. Grimacing, she made one hard slash after the other, pushing him backwards until he almost tripped. In such close quarters his daggers should actually have had the advantage, but he didn’t want to hurt her. Though he didn’t want to get hurt, either.
Duncan darted his dagger out at the hand holding her sword, trying to disarm her, but she was too quick for him. Pirouetting, she bashed his forearm aside and then lunged forward, throwing him against the wall and shoving the sword’s edge against his throat. It held there, pressing hard enough that he felt its bite against his skin. It made him choke, and he pulled his head back, trying not to swallow.
She peered coldly into his eyes, mere inches from his face. This was definitely the Genevieve he knew, despite her appearance. She could cut his throat in the blink of an eye, and he was helpless to prevent it. Could he be killed in the Fade? Would that mean his body would simply die back in the real world? A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, the moment stretching into forever as neither of them made a single sound.
Finally she pulled back on the sword’s edge ever so slightly. He gasped and swallowed hard. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you,” she demanded.
“You’re the Commander! We need you!”
“This is a good life,” she said, her voice low and filled with steel. “Bregan is happy. I am happy. Guy is alive. And most important, I’ve never had anything to do with the Grey Wardens and especially little bastards like you.”
Her last words bit hard. He stared at her in disbelief, unable to formulate a response.
“What did you think?” she snapped. “That I would recruit the murderer of the man I loved as a reward? It was a punishment. I wanted to be a Grey Warden, but my brother made it a misery. He hated it, and knowing that he joined because of me made me hate it. You took away the one thing that allowed me to forget.”
“I’m sorry… .”
“No, I’m sorry.” She gritted her teeth, the anger making her shake. “I was so certain that you would die in the Joining, that you would get just a taste of what Guy and the rest of us had to go through. Enough for you to choke on. But you survived. The Maker played yet one more joke on me.”
“But I thought—”
“You’ve proven useful,” she cut him off, her tone ice cold. “You have some skill, and you get things done. You’ve made a fine Grey Warden.” She sneered at him. “Congratulations.”
They stared at each other a moment longer, and then she pushed herself away from him. “Go,” she said. “Go back to the others and get out of here. I won’t be retrieved, not by you. Not by anyone.” He dropped down to the floor, coughing and choking and clutching his throat. He could feel blood where the blade had left a shallow cut. She stepped back, looking at him with a hateful glare, and he could do nothing but stare back at her blankly.
Was that what she really felt? He’d always wondered. He’d never thought she’d held any love for him after what he’d done, but to hate him so? Why keep him close, then? Why not send him away to some other Grey Warden fortress as soon as she became a commander? She had that authority.
“I don’t believe you,” he insisted.
She snorted derisively. “What do you believe, then?”
“I believe you’re better than that. I look up to you. You saved me from that cell, and I know it’s because you thought you were doing the right thing. I think you’re just trying to make me leave.”
Genevieve sighed, her face calming. “Then go.”
“So you’re just going to stay here, then? Live a lie?”
“I’ve had my fill of truth.”
He nodded slowly, rubbing his neck and clearing his throat several times. It felt almost as if his larynx had been crushed. “So you’re going to give up. Just like Nicolas.”
She frowned, putting the sword down on the desk with all its scrolls and papers. More of them fell to the floor. Then she glanced up at Duncan. “What do you mean? What has he done?”
“He’s with Julien. He refused to come with us. He’d rather die in the Fade.”
A bit of sadness crossed Genevieve’s eyes and she glanced down at the floor. “He deserves that much, if that’s what he wants.”
“Is that what you really think?”
“Why not?” she snapped irritably. “Would reality be such an improvement? Is it such a crime to be with the one you love? Let the man be with Julien. Let them both have some peace.”
“But it’s not Julien he’s with.”
“You don’t know that. They say the spirits of the dead cross the Fade. I have no trouble believing that Julien’s spirit would stay with Nicolas, if he found him here in the Fade.”
Duncan paused. “Is that what you think Guy is?”
Genevieve stared off in the direction of the door, as if she could see through it. There was a yearning in her expression. A desire for something she had denied herself long ago. As a shadow slowly crossed over her eyes, he knew her answer. “No,” she admitted bitterly.
An awkward silence ensued. Duncan picked himself up off the floor as she stood where she was, rigid and pointedly not looking at him. She hung her head, her mouth twisted into an unhappy grimace. The silence was interrupted as the door to the apartment suddenly flew open, and Guy rushed in.
“What’s happening here?” he demanded, staring with alarm first at Duncan and then at his wife. “I was told there was shouting? Fighting?”