I Am Yours

Chapter 13

Naia had expected to wake with a wicked hangover, but her head felt surprisingly clear the next morning. A good thing, too, since Leliana bounced into her room soon after the sun rose to help her style her hair.

"I thought you said you liked the way I wear my hair!" Naia protested as the bard pulled out dozens of gem-studded pins and clips and began holding them up to her head.

"Oh, yes, it is very becoming. But surely you would not object to a little change, today of all days. All of Ferelden has turned out to get a glimpse of their hero."

Naia was getting rather tired of hearing the word "hero," but she couldn't bring herself to snap at her friend. Nor could she bear to tell Leliana the truth: that she was supposed to die on the roof of Fort Drakon. The only logical explanation she could come up with was that the Archdemon was still alive, that she'd somehow botched the killing blow. I'm not a hero, Leliana. Just a fraud.

As Naia fretted, Leliana subjected her hair to a thorough series of experiments. After what felt like hours, the Orlesian bard determined that the best look for the armor was to pile Naia's hair in a loose knot at the nape of her neck. The style, despite its apparent simplicity, required an astonishing number of hairpins.

The Orlesian bard had just helped her secure all of the straps on her new drake-scale armor when Alistair knocked on the door to her chamber. "I hope you're almost ready, the citizens of Denerim are packed three hundred deep outside the palace," he called through the door. "I'd like to pretend it's for my coronation, but I think they'd rather see you."

"Come in!" Naia called.

Alistair pushed the door open and grinned broadly at her. "Well, how about that. You look splendid, Commander."

Naia gaped. Alistair was wearing heavy golden armor, the most elaborate she'd ever seen, and his bearing was confident—more than confident, regal. She almost didn't recognize her friend. "So do you, Your Majesty," she said with a little curtsy.

"Now, what did I tell you about calling me that? All right, that's it." Alistair made a playful grab for his fellow Warden; Naia danced away, grinning.

Leiliana cried out in alarm. "Do not muss her hair!"

"Sorry, sorry," the King said, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Come on, Hero, let's get these ceremonies over with."

*

"The coronation will be first, then there will be a speech in honor of your victory. I'm planning to grant the arling of Amaranthine to the Wardens," Alistair told her as they descended the stairs to the throne room. "The Howes are in no position to oppose, not after what Rendon did in the basement of the Denerim estate. And I'm going to offer you a reward for what you've done. Have you any thought as to what you might like?"

"Fair treatment and justice for the elves in all of Ferelden's alienages," Naia said promptly. "But I trust you to do that anyway. Amaranthine for the Wardens is enough for me, Alistair."

"How would you like to be the first Bann of the Denerim alienage?" Alistair suggested.

"Not me. Shianni."

"Shianni!" said Alistair, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"Don't let her fool you. She's got a temper—"

"Really? She has a temper, and she's related to you? Will wonders never cease!"

"—but she's smart and determined, and she won't be intimidated by human nobles," Naia finished, pretending she didn't hear the King. "Besides, I'll be in Amaranthine rebuilding the Wardens. Shianni will know better what the elves need."