#blackwall x cadash

[shewolfofvilnius]

not to be thirsty on main but Blackwall/Thom Rainier's post-redemption romance tarot card in Inquisition is the single hottest piece of video game artwork ever rendered.

Its so beautifully possessive. The glowing hand over his heart to me says 'I am hers', body and soul.

11/10 romance, so glad my Lavellan romanced him in my canon world state.

[inky-does-art]

Blackwall and Cadash Inquisitor commission for @rohirrim1996

Thank you again, it was a pleasure to draw them for you <3

[cachien]

the conflict between "finish my inquisition run before veilguard comes out" vs "start a new game to romance blackwall as cadash so that they can be a couple of reformed criminals together" is insurmountable

[astraphone]

if you give it a name, then it’s already won

1.5k, blackwall/cadash. after the breach is sealed, the man who calls himself blackwall shares a moment and a dance with the herald of andraste.

Hours before it is lost, there is dancing in Haven.

Blackwall isn’t with the Herald as she and the mages close the Breach, but even down in the village it’s obvious the moment she succeeds. With a blaze of light and energy, the sky stitches itself back together before his very eyes. For the first time in months, the green, angry menace above settles. Scarred, still, a reminder of what happened here, but quiet at last.

The villagers have already begun drinking by the time the Herald returns from the temple. A wild cheer erupts at her approach, and though Blackwall intends to congratulate her, he quickly loses sight of her in a gaggle of admirers. Probably for the best, that. Tonight is for her, and she hardly needs him interrupting her festivities.

That thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and he hurries to find himself a drink before he can dwell too much on things that aren’t for him. Today was a victory, for the Inquisition and for the world. He’ll focus on that, not on the way he’s itching to find the Herald in the crowd, to see her grin up at him when their eyes meet, to run his hands over her and—

Well. So much for not dwelling on it.

The fact of the matter is, they’ve been... flirting. He’s almost certain she isn’t serious; she flirts with him like it’s a light-hearted reflex, just part of her charm, and he should know better than to respond in kind. Easier said than done, though, when their banter comes so easily, when she smirks when she catches him watching her, when he hears her laugh as they take down demons together, all exhilarated adrenaline.

He’s not courting her. He hardly knows her, really, and he does know full-well how unworthy he is of even attempting such a thing. But it’s a pleasant fantasy to indulge in from time to time, that a woman like her might see something in him, of all people. 

“There you are.”

Blackwall just about jumps out of his skin. As if summoned by his thoughts of her, the Herald of Andraste herself stands at his side. She’s changed out of her armor into casual clothes, carrying a drink in one hand and a half-eaten plate of food in the other. Her face is still smudged with what must be soot from the Temple, and he pushes down the urge to reach out and wipe it off for her. She looks tired, he thinks.

“I haven’t seen you all night,” she says. “Was starting to think you’re avoiding me.”

“Never, my lady,” he manages once he finds his tongue. “Are you enjoying the festivities?”

“Sure, as long as they keep the ale flowing.”

The mug in her hand looks nearly untouched, but he decides against pointing that out.

“I believe congratulations are in order,” he says instead. “You did a great thing tonight.”

She smiles, but there's something almost sad about it—and when did he become so good at reading her expressions? “My hand did, you mean. And the mages.” She seems to catch herself, looking inexplicably annoyed for a moment before continuing. “But—you’re right. We did good.” 

“Are you alright?” He ventures.

“Sure as stone. Why?”

“I suppose I expected you to be celebrating. You did, after all, just accomplish what we’ve all been hoping for.”

“I know that,” she snaps, then sighs. “Sorry. Just tired.”

“You don’t have to talk to me," he says slowly. "But I will listen, if you do.” 

She looks at him for a moment, as if deciding whether she wants to say anything, then seems to come to a decision. “I’m fine. Just thinking about what happens next, now that I’ve done my part.”

“I’m no expert, but I don’t get the impression that this whole mess is over. Do you?”

“No. But they brought me in to close the Breach. Half the Chantry still wants me in chains, and I’m fairly certain the Carta will tell me to sod right off if I go crawling back, so…” She grimaces. "It's Inquisition or dust for me, I think. I just hope I still have a job now my bit's done."

"The Inquisition would be mad to let the Herald of Andraste go. And regardless, surely you realize you're far more to these people that just your mark."

She glances down at the mark in question, still sparking with light underneath the leather glove she wears. "Still hard to believe sometimes. All this for someone like me." "Breach or no, the people still need you. The Inquisition still needs you." And then, because he's been drinking and he's feeling rather bold, he adds, "And, for what it's worth, I still want you. Here, I mean. I still want you here, helping."

She raises one scarred eyebrow at him, pointedly enough that he feels himself blush. "Right."

He'll gladly put his foot in his mouth a thousand times, if it brings back that little half-grin of hers. Seeing a ghost of it now, he gestures out towards the gathered crowd of dancers. “Come on. Tonight is for you; it would be a shame if you didn't enjoy it."

The Herald snorts, a surprised and undignified thing that makes him grin. “What, you want to dance? I've been told I have two left feet, you know."

"I'll be the judge of that, my lady. If you'll allow me."

"Oh, fuck it." She tips her mug back and downs her drink with impressive speed for someone her size.  "Lead the way."

He extends a hand to her and she takes it with a smirk. This is foolish, he knows; just about all of Haven is out here tonight, and people will talk. She hardly needs that kind of rumor on her plate. But once her hand is in his, he’ll be damned if he lets go.

With a half-bow towards her, he leads her into a dance. He’s never danced with a dwarf before, and has to adjust a bit for her height, but it’s easy to get used to her. As though all that time spent twirling around ridiculous Orlesian ballrooms a lifetime ago was merely a lead-up to her.   

Despite her initial protests, the Herald is a fast learner, and soon she’s laughing breathlessly as he spins her. He finds that he doesn’t care about the people watching, the whispers that will surely come, the voice in the back of his head telling him he doesn't deserve this; in this moment, she's the only thing that matters.

The dance is over too soon, and as they come to a halt they're both smiling like a pair of fools.

"How'd I do?" The melancholy of a few moments earlier is vanished from her face now, her eyes bright and shining with mirth.

"You're a natural, Lady Cadash." Caught up in the moment, acting more on instinct than anything else, he catches one of her hands in his and presses it to his lips.

Too far. He knows it instantly, as her eyes snap up to meet his, open wide with surprise. He drops her hand and takes a hasty step backwards, but she follows, so close they’re nearly pressed against each other. It would be damnably easy to do something unwise in this moment. She’s closed most of the distance herself; all he has to do is lean down and brush his lips against hers.

No. He shakes his head to help clear it, although he can't quite bring himself to move away again. “I—I forget myself.”

The Herald's voice is low, meant just for him. “I think I like it when you forget yourself, Warden Blackwall.”

The moment is broken with the sound of that name. He’s long-since gotten used to it, thinks of it more than he thinks of the name he was born with, and on most days hearing it reminds him of the sort of man he wants to be. Tonight, it’s a reminder of why he shouldn’t be doing this. The Herald of Andraste, this remarkable woman with the world at her feet, deserves far better than a lying, murderous fraud.

He takes another step back, and this time she doesn't follow. "I'm sorry,” he mutters.

He thinks he might see disappointment flash briefly on her face, but she only shrugs. “Don’t apologize. This was the best part of my night.”

“Given what you’ve accomplished tonight, perhaps you need to reevaluate your priorities, my lady.”

He means to say it lightheartedly, but he must have struck a nerve, judging by the way her eyes narrow. "Perhaps you need to figure out what you want, Warden," she says sharply. "Come find me if you do."

She stalks off, and he watches her go. She's joined by Cassandra a moment later, and he turns away.

Maker, he’d wanted to kiss her. He almost had kissed her, and she’d looked at him like she’d wanted him to. She's wrong; he knows exactly what he wants, he's just desperately fighting a losing battle against it. 

When the alarm bell starts ringing, it's almost a relief.

[imakemywings]

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: f!Cadash/Blackwall

AN: De-anon of a kink meme fill from a while back for Blackwall getting pegged.

AO3

__________________________________________________

            There had been a time not long ago when Blackwall had thought to never see the inside of Inquisitor Cadash’s private quarters again. But for Cadash, there had never been a question about that. Even before his revelation, Blackwall had known some of the things she had done which made her inclined to forgive him even a crime of the severity to which he confessed, but after pardoning him—after affirming she meant to keep him in her life—she had coughed up the rest: All of the things she’d been afraid to lay out for him, once she began to care about his good opinion. The fingers crushed under forge hammers, the families threatened, the parties thrown just to slit the throat of a specific target—all of it.

            So now it was all on the table. No more secrets, they said. No more lies. No more cowardice.

            “You make me a better person,” Cadash had confided in him once, after. “You make me want to be better.”

            “That’s funny,” Blackwall said. “I was thinking the same about you.” But she could hear in his voice how much it meant to think that even someone like him—the real him—could inspire someone to something good. It was something he wished for so desperately.

            And so Blackwall spent many more nights in Cadash’s quarters. In fact, they had all but officially become his quarters as well—she had given him a small dresser of his own for his things, and he never overnighted in his own bed anymore, even if he was sliding in beside a sleeping Cadash after a late training or scouting session.

            Neither of them was the rosy image they wanted to present to the world—but maybe that was alright. Maybe it mattered just that they were trying.

            When Blackwall held her on his lap, the mountain moonlight beaming cold against the thick black hair on the back of his head, the candlelight indoors wreathing her in yellow-gold, she believed they could live up to their new ideals.

            She dug her fingers into his beard and tipped his head back to seal her mouth over his, grinning as she felt the bulge in his trousers when she rolled her hips against his. There had been a powerful level of decorum and courtesy in Blackwall’s initial treatment of her, and Cadash had simply delighted in getting underneath that to know how much he lusted for her.

            “Are you ready to feel the firm hand of the Inquisition?” she teased when she drew back, her lips slick with their mingled saliva, her pupils wide.

            “I was under the impression it would be more than a hand,” Blackwall said, though she detected a thread of nervousness in him. She laughed.

            “I’ll take care of you, baby,” she promised in her twangy, drawling accent, leaning in to kiss his neck, pressing her hips down against his lap. “As much as you want.” For a moment, she occupied herself nibbling at his neck until he said:

            “Are you trying to leave a mark? That’s a bit childish, isn’t it?” He sounded amused.

            “Tch, no one will even see it with your collar,” she said. “Besides…” She dug her nails into his scalp at the back his head, “You know how I feel about making clear what’s mine.” She heard Blackwall’s intake of breath and grinned again, kissing him softly against the tendons in his neck. He was always weak for her flashes of possessiveness.

            “You’re sure?” she asked then, sitting back on his knees to look him full in the face. “Do you want to see it first?”

            “I…yes, perhaps that would be best,” Blackwall allowed. Cadash, with some reluctance, slid off his lap and pranced across the room to where she’d stowed the toy. It was her own—she felt the inquisitor deserved some proper stress relief, though Josephine had not looked her in the eyes when confronting her about the expense—and she enjoyed the idea of putting her own toy to use on her lover.

            She’d even bought a new harness for this.

            Nearly preening, she presented him with the dildo and let him look it over.

            “It’s rather, er—large, isn’t it?” he said. Cadash shrugged.

            “I’ve had bigger. Yours is bigger by a stretch,” she added with a cheeky look. For a moment, Blackwall hesitated, second-guessing his request, but then she saw that resolute look enter his eyes.

            “Let’s do it,” he said.

            “Bully,” said Cadash, taking it back. She set the dildo and the harness aside and sat on the edge of the bed, stretching her legs out to invite Blackwall to remove what remained of her clothing, which he did with that same combination of fervent desire and awed reverence that never failed to get her wet.

            When he’d tugged her shorts off at last, she grabbed the loose front of his shirt and pulled him forward into a heated kiss, wriggling until her knees bracketed his hips.

            “Someday I’m going to invite my exes to Skyhold,” Cadash announced.

            “Why’s that?” Blackwall asked, his voice gone low and rough as it did when she was really having a go at him.

            “So they can be jealous.” Her eyes twinkled and she jerked loose the ties on his shirt until it began to slip from his thick shoulders, and he straightened up to pull it off and toss it aside.

            “Is that so?” he said, placing his hands on the bed and leaning in to catch her mouth with his.

            “Mhm!” she replied enthusiastically without breaking the kiss. Her hands slid eagerly down through the coarse hair over his chest and belly to his belt, which she could not get off fast enough. “They’ll all be perfectly green, I’m sure!”

            “I think you maybe just a bit biased,” Blackwall replied, entertained as ever when Cadash suggested he was a prize of any stripe.

            “Well, there’s one way to test that,” she said, yanking the belt free of its loops and turning her attention to the laces on his trousers. “You’re making this rather difficult, by the by,” she added, referencing his cock straining against the closed pants opening.

            “I rather think that’s your fault, isn’t it?” he replied, making Cadash simply elated with how much bolder and more confident and open he had grown with her since they began this.

            “It sure is!” she said proudly, managing just fine with the laces despite her complaint. Blackwall lowered his head to kiss at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and one of his calloused hands slid up her broad thigh.

            “Do you want me to get you first?” he murmured.

            It was sorely tempting, especially with his sturdy fingers so close to where she’d want them, but Cadash rather wanted the foreplay of seeing him come undone first.

            “No, tonight it’s you first,” she decided, sliding a hand down the front of his shorts to palm against his aching cock. Blackwall gasped, his hips bucking thoughtlessly into her hand. “Now, let’s get you ready, hm?”

            Cadash had used toys like this on her female lovers, but not before on a male, or at least not one with Blackwall’s set-up, so to speak, so she’d asked Bull about it, and he’d given her a few tips. He’d also been grinning ear to ear when she left.

            She’d bought the most expensive oil she could find—one that purported to warm quicker than others—and used her fingers to spread and relax Blackwall’s muscles in preparation. She could see that he was flushed under his beard, embarrassed to be getting this kind of attention, so she kissed his muscular thighs and smiled at him, cooing about how pleased she was to do this. And she was—it wasn’t something she’d considered with him before, but when he mentioned it, she’d been more than happy to agree to give it a try.

            Blackwall had never done this either.

            “There…how’s that now?” she said. “Does it feel more comfortable? No pain?”

            “Yes,” he panted. “It feels…well, still odd, truly, but not painful.”

            “Do you feel ready to try the toy now?” He was the one who was going to get fucked, but Cadash felt her cunt thrill at the thought of doing it to him.

            “Yes. I think we should try now,” he agreed.

            “Swell!” She hopped off the bed and started battling her way into the harness, thinking she really ought to have given this a practice run before showtime.

            “Do you need some help with that?” When she looked up at the bed, Blackwall was propped up on his elbows, his lips twitching.

            “Are you suggesting the inquisitor isn’t capable of putting on a strap harness alone?” Cadash asked.

            “I heard the inquisitor can put on a strap harness one-handed in the dark with a blindfold,” said Blackwall. It was a game of theirs, to make jokes about the ridiculous rumors that circulated about her. Cadash snorted.

            “Just you wait, and soon she will!” When it was all in place, she gave the phallus a tug to make sure it was secure, and then climbed back onto the mammoth bed with which Josephine had seen fit to equip her rooms.

            Blackwall was eyeing the thing between her legs with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, which Cadash tried to soothe with a long open-mouthed kiss.

            “All good to go?” she asked gently when she drew back.

            “I trust you,” he said, nodding.

            “Just let me know if it’s not working,” she reminded him, settling back between his legs. Regrettably, he was so tall that from here she could no longer kiss higher than his pillowy belly, but she could make do with that.

            She spread his legs a little further apart and positioned the toy.

            “I’m used to a bigger hole,” she joked, but Blackwall was too on edge to make a response before she began to wiggle the toy into him, pushing carefully to give him plenty of time to cry uncle if it was too much. “Doing alright?” she asked when the thing was halfway in, looking up. Blackwall was as red as she’d ever seen him, biting at his lower lip, but one thing she was sure of was that things were quite alright.

            “Yes, that’s—it’s—you can keep going,” he babbled. Cadash grinned and pressed further, sticking with the slow initial pace she’d set.

            “There we go,” she said quietly as she eased the toy in to the hilt. “You’re doing beautifully, sugar,” she said. “That’s it, that’s all there is. How’s that feel?”

            “That’s it?” he said.

            “Not enough, already?” Cadash laughed.

            “No, I just…I was expecting it would…hurt a little, I suppose, even if we did everything right.”

            “But the inquisitor—” Blackwall snorted. “It feels good, though?” she asked, light concern lacing her voice. She stroked his leg with one hand.

            “Still a little strange,” he admitted. “But certainly not bad.”

            “Are you ready for me to get fucking?” She tried not to sound too eager.

            “Let’s…give it a moment,” he suggested. Cadash nodded. She reached forward and gripped his cock lightly, sliding her hand up and down casually, until he grew impatient and gave her the go-ahead to start.

            “I’ll start slow,” she promised, and she did. She had to make him lay his legs flat, so she could reach to brace her hands against the bed on either side of his hips. Carefully, she shifted back, drawing the toy out. In the past, she’d drawn back too far at this moment and had to reinsert the toy, but this time she managed to keep it in, and thrust back in with just a bit more speed. The movement drew a soft groan from Blackwall, and Cadash felt a zing of triumph.

            “You just let me know if we need a break,” she told him, picking up just a bit of speed as she drew out and pushed back in.

            “I think we’re good,” Blackwall panted. It took only a handful of thrusts before he seemed to forget the discomfort and strangeness of the position, and Cadash moved faster, delighted with the look of thoughtless, helpless arousal on his face. “Oh, fuck, yes,” he groaned as she hit him again. “Maker, do you really have a natural talent for this?”

            “You’ll have to try with Josephine and then tell me,” said Cadash, but Blackwall choked on whatever he was going to say about that when she jerked her hips against him, shoving the toy smoothly back in. “I think you may be just a bit biased, though.”

            She could feel him trembling and when his cock began to leak precum, she moved faster still, until she was grateful being inquisitor was such an athletic position, because it took effort to do this.

            “That’s it,” she panted, trying to move closer, to make sure she was getting all of the toy in him with each thrust. “There it is, that’s it. Is that good? Is it what you wanted?”

            Blackwall just moaned, his head tipped back, his cock flushed and rigid amidst the nest of wiry black hair between his legs, and then he was gushing, spilling thick white release over himself, his muscles convulsing, and Cadash thought she must be dripping wet. As he began to come, she pushed the toy in one last time, and kept it there until he slumped limp onto the bed.

            “How was that?” she asked, chipper. Feebly, Blackwall flashed her a thumbs-up without lifting his head.

            “Bully!” Cadash snickered and slid off the bed to squirm out of the harness, which she left on the floor. She rejoined him quickly, laying down alongside him and snuggling up close. “You liked it?” she purred, resting a hand on his chest. Blackwall turned his head towards her, gripped the back of her red head with one hand, and dragged her forward for a wet, sloppy kiss which Cadash eagerly returned.

            “You are wonderful,” he said.

            “You really think?”

            “I think I owe you,” he replied, and into his eyes came that look which made fireworks go off in Cadash’s belly, when he wanted to show her a good time. One of his hands was already working between her thighs, up to the place where she was damp. He paused and smirked at her, but Cadash was unabashed.

            “I had a nice time too,” she said pointedly. Leaning in to kiss her again, Blackwall went on with his fingers, wasting no time in pressing them between her slick folds and into the core of her heat. Cadash moaned, bucking her hips, when he pressed his thumb against the root of her clit. They were tangled together, Cadash somewhat trying to hump his leg at the same time he fingered her, but the thrust of his thick fingers quickly had her too senseless to do much but lay there and take her pleasure.

            “How’s this, my lady?” Blackwall murmured, sliding a third finger into her cunt, flexing them so she could feel the spread.

            “Oh, fuck, yes,” Cadash gasped, almost whimpering as she rutted against his hand. “Yes, yes, yes, that’s good, that’s good!” Blackwall’s fingers were in up to the third knuckle when Cadash’s muscles tensed and she cried out, spasming against him as she came, digging her nails into his chest. Blackwall kept his fingers in her through her orgasm so that she came around his hand, gasping when she realized she’d been holding her breath.

            Only when she was quite finished did Blackwall withdraw his hand.

            “Well,” he said, as Cadash was still catching her breath, “I think we can consider that a successful experiment. Don’t you?”

            “Perfectly,” Cadash agreed, a dizzy note in her voice. She gathered herself back together and sat up to look at him. “So you liked it, then? Want to do it again?”

            “I would…certainly be amenable to that,” Blackwall said. “If you enjoyed it as much as it seems you did.” Cadash grinned.

            “I had great fun,” she said. “I’d fuck you anytime, sugar.”

            “I am an undeservedly lucky man,” Blackwall declared.

[captainreverie]

🔥☠️Captain Delvaaaa ☠️🔥

[trekwanderer]

I cant stop thinking about Blackwall

[brightaxe]

▶ You're strangely charming.

[alenseress]

[calcium-draws]

"...think i like you best when you're just with me, and no one else..."

inquisitors and their love interests

lorelai trevelyan & the iron bull

ellana lavellan & solas

imekari adaar & blackwall

freya cadash & vivienne

mahanon lavellan & dorian

evelyn trevelyan & krem

mercy adaar & cole

[fimrila]

[DAY 22] 31 Days of DA: Favorite Inquisition Romance - Blackwall

Why Blackwall?

I remember the eyebrow wiggling and giggling on the forums when Blackwall was first announced as a companion: "His beeeeeard!" IIRC, he was the first romanceable character with a beard, and we were collectively here for it!

On a more serious note, I personally liked that he wasn't a man of many words, but you always knew exactly where you stood with him.

Inquisitor: "Make sure you save at least one dance for me." Blackwall: "All of them."

I actually loved the plot twist for Blackwall's character arc. Don't get me wrong, I was shocked. I had to process it just like anyone else, but I was exhilarated that they took a big risk with the writing, how his personal revelation dovetailed with the overall masquerade theme. It was a big gamble for the writers because feelings were going to get hurt, but they executed it very well. I definitely respected that.

Adversity can make or break a relationship, and I liked that Blackwall and the Inquisitor got tested and were stronger for it. It reminded me of Shepard and Kaidan (or Ashley, if you will) being on opposite sides in Mass Effect 2 and you could choose to fight for the relationship or cut your losses. Same thing with Alistair walking out at Landsmeet. (Until they finally announced that Hawke, not the Warden, would be the new protagonist in the next game, I had hoped to run into Alistair again to make amends with him, but alas.) So, this whole story arc with Blackwall ended up scratching a narrative itch that I didn't know was there.

[31 Days of Dragon Age Prompts]

[lelianaslefthand]

i be like "y'all mind if i make this 'straight' character bisexual?" and then not wait for an answer. your honor i love them

[template]

[animezinglife]

I love how so many (if not all) of the in-game romance responses from third parties are like, "Aren't you worried about how this looks? People will gossip! It's not professional. Should you be crossing that boundary line?"

Inquisitor [with that specific boundary line]:

[imakemywings]

You know after the inquisitor springs Blackwall and publicly forgives him AND reaffirms their relationship they are having THE most mind-blowing sex

[illusivesoul]

It's sad Blackwall hours. Been obsessed with this song lately and decided to do this edit with it.

[mogwaei]

Chapter 167: The Mycologist & the Carver    

Rating: explicit

Pairings: Solas/OFC, M!Lavellan/Dorian Pavus, F!Lavellan/secret companion

Fic summary: Agent of Fen’Harel defects to search for an alternative solution and–oh no. An Inquisitor who is Not Well. His sister who likes to complicate things. Time travel with consequences. Lore exploration and expansion. Friends, rivals, lovers, and endless explanations. Do u like bagels, ‘cause this one has everything on it.

Word Count: chapter [~6k] | entire fic: 940k+

Snippet below:

~~

Thom was smiling under his great beard, thick arms crossed in a thoughtful manner.

"Where'd you learn this?" he asked with a darling softness, gesturing to the runic language at the bottom. "I'm not literate, but I've seen some dwarven writing in my day."

"The dwarven men I travelled with were…worldly." It felt like a script at this point. She wished she could tell the whole truth of what they had been, as their memory deserved.

"Really? I've heard you mention them offhand. Sounds like quite the tale. You should tell me more one day," he said, and she didn't bother to hide her surprise this time. He wasn’t pushing boundaries with potential hurt…and she respected that. He gave her a self-satisfied grin she couldn't resist returning. She quickly wrote out the directions and tore the page out for him. "Funny. I could have sworn I'd seen another healer today with the same thistles and dandelions in her hair. Similar journal too. Looked nothing like you though, save perhaps the height."

Rainier was more perceptive than she thought or she was a full blown fool. How had she not seen him in the infirmary? And furthermore, stupid, stupid me for not removing the weeds. You were so cocksure about not getting caught.

"For what it's worth," Rainier shifted so his back was against the opening, stretching his pained leg out beside her. "Defying Miss Head-Healer Thera to give me that dragon's spit salve you whipped up instead of the same tired elfroot-embrium one–"

"I  treated  you?" she blurted. And…there went her cover. “  Fenedhis , I must have been high off Enoki’s herb not to have noticed.”

Rainier belted out a merry laugh. If she weren't mildly panicking and reassessing, it would have been infectious. "Don't worry. Genuinely wouldn't have known if not for the flowers." He leaned in until she could smell him—woodsmoke, a bit of spicy dragon's spit, and straw. "But…I’m tickled curious. Why are you in disguise?"

Maordrid plucked up her carving tool, giving him a knowing glance. "I don't think we are so different, Rainier."

Read the whole chapter here

Chapter 1 for new readers