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Rael began to take some bowls down from one of the shelves. Luckily, the family was large enough that there were plenty of them. She shook her head against such morbid thoughts and tried to focus on her task.
(What follows is a long scene that you need to read but might want to get comfortable first. Maybe get a beverage or something.)
The savory aroma of stewed meat wafted over them even before they even reached the porch. Despite the trials of the day - or perhaps because of them - Beldin was suddenly ravenous. He approached the farmhouse with every intention of taking a bath and tending his wounds before sating his appetite, but that was before he smelled whatever was simmering on the hearth. He threw open the door with enough force to rattle it in its frame and rushed in, all but colliding with Rael as she bent to stir the pot.
"Blessed Andraste, that smells good!" he said by way of apology.
The sound of the door hitting the wall nearly sent Rael into a fit. The bowls she’d gathered from the cupboard slipped from her hands and hit the floor in a clatter. Pieces of ceramic scattered about her feet. Her face went red with shame and rage.
"Oaf!" she shouted with fists balled at her sides. "You can't just push me around!"
Beldin had begun ladling stew into the nearest convenient bowl, but stopped long enough to blink at her in bafflement.
"Er... what?"
He was looking at her with that same blank look--as if she were a stranger and he had no idea what she was talking about. It was maddening. “Don’t play dumb with me, Beldin!” she hissed with daggers in her eyes. “I’ve had enough of your games!”
She realized how empty her threats were. The truth was, he could say anything he wanted and do anything he wanted to her, and there was nothing she could do about it. Unwilling to even look him in the face for another moment, Rael snatched up her lantern and the nearest vessel she could--in this case, a water pitcher--and walked through the back door in a huff. Some cool night air might calm her nerves and she wanted to be as far from Beldin as possible.
Outside, in the pitch-black night, she made her way to the woodpile she had visited earlier. Surely there would be a pump or something there… some sort of task to occupy her until her hands stopped shaking. Once she found it, she set the lantern down and let the cold water run over her hands.
Beldin was halfway to her before she noticed him, and as he loomed over her, he asked quietly, "Have I wronged you in some way?"
Rael recoiled and hissed, "Keep your distance, shem." The slur felt sharp and wrong in her mouth, but she could think of now other way to make her point. "Have you wronged me?" she asked incredulously. "Are you trying to be funny?"
He ignored the insult. He'd been called worse. "If I am, it's a bad joke," he said. "I've not said one harsh word to you, but you've been cross with me since we met. Why?"
Rael furrowed her brow in confusion. He was acting as their first meeting had been that night at the Arbor Inn. What kind of game was he playing? Or was it possible that he was so drunk in Denerim that he didn't remember her at all? Either way, she wasn't about to take chances. "I know what kind of man you are," she spat. "Do you really think you can treat women like your personal possessions without consequence?"
His brow mirrored her earlier confusion, then his expression darkened. Rael's words, even if hastily chosen, struck a nerve.
"What kind of man I am?" he asked, his voice cold, angry. "You stand there and accuse me as if you had the right! You don't know me. I'm done with paying for crimes I've never committed."
His belt dropped to the floor and he seized the hem of his tunic in both hands. Turning abruptly, he hauled up the garment to reveal a ghastly net of barely-healed scars across his broad back. A fresh brand shone dark against the pale skin of his shoulder: the mark of a rapist.
"Is this not consequence enough?" he demanded. "Is this price not high enough to pay for another's lies?"
“But I do know you--” Rael began, but then her mind flooded with panic at the sight of the angry brand on Beldin’s flesh and a scream rose in her throat.
His head and shoulders were tangled in his tunic in his haste, trapping both arms, but Rael was not about to give him the chance to finish undressing. She unsheathed her sword and brought it level with his waist. "Stay away from me, you monster!" she snarled. "Or this time I'll do more than break your nose!"
“Break my what?” Beldin asked, struggling to free his arms and lurching backward, impaling himself on the blade she held. The motion wrenched the weapon from her grasp and he turned, mutely plucking at the length of steel that protruded from his abdomen.
The elf screamed and reached out to him, but the damage was done. Instinctively, he folded his hands across his belly and stared at the sword point as it formed an obscene steeple between his fingers. Blood flowed freely. His knees buckled, and he fell, curling protectively onto his side.
Rael was beside him in an instant.... and then she stopped. The brand on his shoulder marked him as a rapist--that was undeniable. He’d tried to attack her twice now, and he had been lucky both times. Believing herself finally out of danger, she examined the large human who was completely defenseless in front of her and pondered what had just happened.
Something was not right. If he were trying to attack her, why would he take the time to show her the evidence of his crimes? Why turn his back to her so she could escape or defend herself? It made no sense. He must have known how she would react. Yet, he stripped off his tunic, not his pants. He wanted to show her something. What was he trying to explain?
Her deft fingers pulled his apart to look at the wound. “You stupid bastard,” she muttered. “Why did you do that? What were you trying to tell me?”
Rael pored over the that sword jutted out hideously from Beldin’s flesh. Her impulse was to remove it, but doing so might make the bleeding worse, even fatal, and she had no intention of killing anyone that night, intentionally or not. The damage was serious and might have been immediately mortal to a smaller man. There must be a way to slow the bleeding. She untangled his shirt from his arms and tore off a large swath. As she worked, he remained on the edge of consciousness and murmured, “I’ve never seen you before…”
Rael was barely listening as she dressed the wound and put pressure on it to staunch the bleeding. She could hear footsteps behind her, not close, but nearing. The others were looking for them. She was not eager for them to see her bloodied sword sticking out of Beldin’s torso. “Perhaps you don’t remember me, but I know your face, serah. You were in Denerim six months ago and we had… an incident.”
"Never been to Denerim..." he muttered, half conscious. "'S it nice?"
The world seemed to be slipping away, almost the way it did when the rush of battle was upon him. His ears heard noise, but it was nothing, the chirping of birds. Pretty birds with brilliant plumage and sweet voices. Not crows. The pain was less now. Soon it would be gone, and he could sleep.
"Brother was in Denerim..." he told the swaying trees. "For the Landsmeet... so far to go to swear..."
He must be delirious, Rael realized. He was clearly going into shock and not making sense in the slightest. But she needed him to stay conscious, Maker knew what would happen if he passed out--he might never wake up, and she would never know the truth. “I have two brothers, serah. Isn’t it grand?”
"No, twins," he said. "No face close enough to shave by."
He was fading. Maker, he couldn’t just die here. Not like this. "Stay with me, Beldin," she said softly. "You're not making sense. What twins?"
"Your brother... Mine looks just like me."
Rael stopped cold and stared at Beldin for a moment. When she saw him in the tavern, he was at a distance, but the face that had attacked her in Denerim was burned in her mind and she had been certain it was him. Looking at him up close in the light of her lantern, she wasn’t so sure. The man in Denerim was… puffier somehow, less athletic, with smoother hands. Rael examined Beldin’s calloused, scarred hands and knew at once this was not the man who had tried to buy an evening with her.
“I… thought… I was sure…” she began, but regret closed her throat. Whatever crimes his past contained, he was innocent of that. Maybe, if he was innocent of part of it, he was innocent of all of it.
“What did you say about your brother?” Rael asked, but Beldin did not respond. “Tell me, please,” she said hoarsely, but her patient was too far gone to answer. His pupils still closed when she brought the lantern closer, but his body lay slack in her arms.
“Rael!” Etienne had started a run the minute he recognized the voices. There was an awful commotion and the sort of noise people didn’t typically make when conversations were going successfully. Clearly both had come to...kill one another, was it? He rounded the corner with wide eyes, unsteady on his feet, and struggling for breath. There was blood...so much blood... and he went green, confusion and horror doing a dance across his face. "What in the Maker's name is going on?"
Rael’s head shot up as the mage appeared, unmindful of how deadly she appeared kneeling over Beldin’s motionless body. “Etienne!” she cried, her expression lightening with surprise and relief. “Thank the Maker!”
His catastrophic entrance ended with him landing on one knee, owlishly darting between the minstrel and unconscious man. Surely she had not...
“Etienne, can you…?” she pleaded. She looked back at Beldin, whose eyes were open but saw nothing.
“...make sense of it all?” he interjected somewhat wryly. Sliding on his knees, he moved to Beldin’s side. “No. Not likely.”
“Heal him!” she nearly shouted. “Use your magic, like you did for the Dalish. Please...! Just do… something!”
Teeth gritted, he drew in a breath and struggled to stay calm. Someone had to be calm. “And while I do,” he replied cautiously, “an explanation, perhaps?” His eyes stayed trained on Rael as he slipped his staff off of his back and laid it across his knees. The makeshift bandages were quickly discarded. {3d6+4 → [3,6,6,4] = (19) Target 10, ROLL} {Pts 3d6 → [2,3,6] = (11), POINTS}.
“Honestly… I don’t…” she trailed off, looking at Beldin’s gushing wound. “It all happened so fast,” she finished in a barely audible whisper.
Frowning over the lack of sufficient explanation, Etienne turned his attention to Beldin and slipped his worn gloves off, dropping them to the ground.His hands danced in the air above the man as he struggled with where he should even start.The bandage was pulled from the wound, and he grimaced at the gore. He then hesitantly gripped the blade and pulled it with all of his strength. He knew that from there, he’d have to work quickly.
The magic swirled from his fingertips, dancing like fireflies. He pressed his fingers against the other man’s side, not even hard enough to move the flesh, and closed his eyes tightly. Lips moved wordlessly as his power moved into Beldin. He seemed to fade for a moment, his spirit dimmer as his essence flowed. Once it was done, he flattened his hand and pressed it against the healing skin. It took him a moment to regain composure. It was as if every ounce of life he had in him left just long enough to heal the wound.
Rael watched Etienne work, awestruck. She had never seen magic at all, let alone this closely. It was...Maker, it was magnificent. Only when Etienne moved his hands away did she remember to breathe again.
“So,” he said as his staff clattered on to the ground in front of him. His hands covered his face and he took another moment to sit in quiet contemplation. He had spent too much of his lifeforce, put far too much of himself into healing that day, and felt it deep within his chest. Once he was centered, he slid his hands down just enough to peer at Rael over fingertips. He was far too exhausted to argue or worry. “The sword just… jumped out at him, yes?”
Rael scowled, more at herself than at the mage. “No, not exactly.” She looked back at Beldin, whose expression had relaxed and whose bare chest rose and fell with deep, regular breaths. She turned back to Etienne, who suddenly looked so much older. “It was a mistake,” she finally said. “I mistook him for someone else and we had a misunderstanding…” She was babbling now, not making any sense. Sweet Andraste, how could she possibly explain?
Etienne’s expression twisted with sympathy as he listened to her. “Maker’s breath,” he sighed. Exhausted from effort, he twisted to sit on the ground and stretched his legs out alongside Beldin. One hand moved to Beldin’s, clasping it so that fingers rested against his wrist so constant attention could be paid to his pulse. His other was hesitantly offered to Rael. “I’m sorry. My comment was unnecessary. You have been through a lot.” Frowning, he looked back to Beldin, watching for the rise of his chest. “If it was an honest mistake, you should not worry. Nor guilt yourself.”
Was it an honest mistake? Was that even a word she could use on herself anymore? She’d just stabbed a man, nearly to death, and Etienne was holding out his hand to her. Rael stared at it for a moment like it was an unnatural thing. Then she took it and felt a swirling in her stomach as his fingers pressed hers.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, possibly torturing her with freezing fingers. The best thing he could do was sit and listen. Maker, he’d never stabbed anyone himself, on accident or otherwise. The entire ordeal was a foreign concept to him and there was some part of him deep inside that wanted to throw up a little. Some of Beldin’s dry blood clung to his hands.. And there may have been some of it on his shoe as well. But it didn’t matter, he reminded himself, because his friend was in crisis
Etienne was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to say… what? Something intelligible, she imagined. She wiped her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to compose herself. “I felt threatened, so I drew my sword. He had his back to me and turned too quickly, and bloody impaled himself.” She looked at Etienne helplessly. “I’d scarcely believe it myself if I weren’t there.”
“Did he do something threatening?” There was an edge to his tone, matched with the sharp rise of his brow.
“I…” she flailed again. “Yes?” She broke Etienne’s gaze, too ashamed to maintain it. “He took his shirt off for some reason.”
“He… what?” Bright pink crept up his cheeks and his mouth fell open. The man knew Rael for apparently half the time Etienne did, and he hadn’t even removed a shoe in her presence. Yet Beldin was shedding all? “For some reason? What does that even mean?”
“I honestly don’t know why he did that. At the time I thought… he was going to…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it and fresh tears filled her eyes. “He had the rapist’s brand on his back, and I could only think...”
He immediately shoved down any qualms he felt. “Rael,” he said quietly, somewhat hopelessly, as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You did what you thought you had to.”
Present conflicting emotions considered, he placed Beldin’s hand down on the dirt and swung around to sit next to her instead. Space was given, though not entirely due to his own reservations. If she felt like she had been in danger, he thought the worst thing he could do was intrude on her personal space.
It was all so murky for her now. Even her motivations for her actions were faint, like old writing on parchment. She had never intended to harm anyone, not even Beldin. How had things gotten so pear-shaped so quickly?
Looking into the distance, his thumb drew lazy circles against her hand as he processed it all. “...I suppose I would have done worse, had I been in your position.”
“You’d never be in my position, would you, Etienne?” she asked ruefully, mesmerized by the tiny patterns he was drawing on her skin.
“Not true,” he replied. “I think we all get into situations that make us uncomfortable. And I handle them quite poorly.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she replied, surprised by the harshness in her own voice. “You’ve nothing to fear… from…” She gave up before she could complete the thought. How could she hope to explain to him, a human male and a powerful mage, what it was like to be a female elf? “You’ve nothing to fear from anyone, really.”
“What?” His nose wrinkled. “I’m good at two things, healing and botany. Neither of which are incredibly intimidating.” He could throw a mean hex or five but to him, it wasn’t worth mentioning. “I fear everything, messere. Big, tall brutes… angry villagers… lack of food… lost combs…”
Strangely, Rael felt herself smiling at his not-quite-comforting words. She rested her head against his shoulder and said, “Well, you don’t have to be afraid of me.” Her eyes flickered briefly to Beldin’s prostrate form. “Stabbing victims, notwithstanding.”
His eyes widened but he didn’t dare so much as move a muscle. “The same,” he replied quietly. “And should anything worry you again, messere, I will smite them on your behalf. Or throw roots at them, as it were.”
Before Rael could respond, a low guttural sound emerged from Beldin’s throat. “Maker!” Rael gasped. She bolted upright and knelt down next to Beldin. His eyes were fluttering and his fingers were twitching. She looked at Etienne and said, quite unnecessarily, “He’s waking up!”
Jumping to his feet, Etienne snatched up his staff before stepping over the man. “And if he meant to hurt you, he’ll be waking up to my staff driven through his heart,” he muttered, immediately taken aback by the fact that he actually said that out loud. His lips formed a fine line as he took up post at the man’s other side.
Rael looked up at Etienne and replied, “I don’t think he was trying to harm me.” She turned her eyes back to Beldin, who was starting to stir. “At any rate, he’s the one who got hurt--not me. And he’s in no condition to put up much of a fight.”
Beldin groaned louder and halfway turned over onto his side. Rael scooted back to give him some room to move.
He rolled onto his side, then sat up. His abdomen was sore, as if he had been training hard without stretching first. Rael and Etienne were staring at him, their eyes wide. He was about to ask why, and then he remembered. He looked down and ran tentative fingers over the place where the sword had been, but only smooth, if hairy, skin met his touch.
"There was a sword..." he said weakly. Usually, he pitched his voice low to avoid accidentally booming at anyone, but now, it was barely above a whisper.
Rael started to answer, but Etienne shook his head. 'I’ve done marvelous work for you," he said. "Now tell me why you deserved it”
"Thank you," Beldin said. "And I do owe you an explanation, but how did the sword get there in the first place?"
Rael had fallen silent, but the two of them looked at her expectantly and she knew she could no longer evade them. “First of all, I want to tell you that it was entirely unintended. I don’t want to say it was your fault, exactly--adding insult to injury, and all that…” Beldin did not look impressed. “Can I just suggest that, in the future, you don’t start taking your clothes off in front of armed women you’ve managed to corner? Especially with that… mark on you.”
Etienne moved back to a crouch, gaze bouncing between the two of them.
"Taking my clothes off? What?" he shook his head. "I wanted to know why you were avoiding me. You started throwing accusations around about me treating women like property. I shouldn't have lost my temper, but I did. It was too much. I lost half the skin on my back for the sake of a woman's honor, and the only thanks I got for it was the sack. After a week in a cell too small to sit down in, that is."
Rael patiently let Beldin finish. “You do realize I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, right?”
He sighed. "No, you don't, do you?" he said. "And it's a long story that I don't want to tell and you don't want to hear."
"I think I deserve some kind of explanation," Rael said. "Unless you always start taking your clothes off for no reason."
"Not usually, no." Beldin cleared his throat. "You heard me say I'm from Amaranthine. I served with Arl Howe's troops. His mistress, Lady Sophie, decided I'd match her linens, so she had me installed in the bedchamber of her country estate."
He held up a hand to postpone Etienne's shocked exclamation.
"It wasn't as bad as that," he said. "She told me I was going to be her private guard. When you're a shepherd's son, that's a big promotion."
“I can appreciate that,” Etienne interjected sagely.
"Anyway, I should have been more suspicious, but I wasn't. When I found out what she really wanted, I should have told her to go suck an egg, but she promised me the pick of her stables, and I couldn't refuse."
Rael was about to comment about paying too high for a horse, but memories flooded her mind instead, about moonlit horseback ride and how much she would have given up to ride one more time as well. She shook her head to will the errant thoughts away, and waved her arm for Beldin to continue.
"Arl Howe found out and threatened to turn her out without a copper bit. She told me that if I went along with everything she said, she'd protect me. The worst I'd done was show her my small clothes, so I figured that she'd tell him as much and I'd get sent home without my pay."
He scowled.
“Maker, that’s blackmail, isn’t it?” Etienne’s gaze lifted to meet Rael’s, frowning. “Is that how nobility functions, then? Take what you want without concern for the people behind it?”
Rael blinked a couple times and hastily looked back at Beldin.
"Nobody worries what happens to some farmer from the high pastures," Beldin said. "The word is 'expendable.' That isn't drama, it's life."
"So they booted you out without even a copper to your name?" she asked.
"Ironically, I got paid." His short laugh was almost a bark. "Howe forgot to issue the orders that I shouldn't be, so the quartermaster doled out the coin and sent me to the magistrate. She ordered me branded as a rapist, flogged, and chucked in a dungeon for a week. But I didn't get hanged, so I guess I came out ahead. "
“You call that ‘ahead’?” Rael asked incredulously.
"I'm alive," he said. "Aye, I sold my honor for the chance to go riding again, but I bought it back with my pain. I'd call that even."
Rael took the measure of Beldin’s story with a wary eye directed at him. She’d developed a certain intuition with people over her years of entertaining in small gatherings. She could pick out the good tippers from the boors who would try to lay a hand on her. Despite her initial reaction, Beldin seemed an honest sort--upright and candid. If he were going to seduce someone, he would be frank about it, and he would aim lower, not set his sights on the Arl's protected mistress. If he were raging at a perceived slight or loosing his aggression, he would seek out the person who had wronged him, not inflict violence upon an innocent. He could not have even found a way to be alone with her, without her complicity. And the price for such a violation would have far outweighed the pleasure of forcibly bedding the Arl’s aging mistress. Despite her earlier fear of him, Rael found herself believing him. “It isn’t close to being even,” Rael interjected. “The brand--that, you did not earn.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” Etienne admitted as he rubbed his face with both hands, struggling to keep up.
"They brand rapists in Ferelden," Beldin said bluntly. "Lets the sisters know who deserves a proper burning and who deserves to be left for the wolves. Maybe one day, I'll pay them back for it. But not today."
Rael wondered what kind of payback Beldin could possibly mean. He could systematically assassinate everyone who had anything to do with his brand: Howe, Sophie, the brute who took a hot iron to his skin. But killing them wouldn’t remove the mark that would stay with him for the rest of his life. Sometimes, there could be no justice. No one understood that more than a city elf from Denerim.
And no one understood it less than the Circle Mage. “Maker,” Etienne breathed, teeth playing with his bottom lip in worry, both captivated and horrified by Beldin’s plight. “I just cannot imagine.”
His story finished, Beldin looked at the scarred hands folded in his lap."It's true," he said defensively. "I've got the proof on my hide. But none of that explains why you were hostile to me at first glance. . What did I ever do to you?"
Rael swallowed hard and struggled to meet Beldin’s eyes. “I started to tell you before,” she said quietly. “It was in Denerim, maybe half a year ago. A man who had your face… only… now I learn it may not have been you at all.”
“It was an accident, Beldin. A case of mistaken identity. And you are fine now, non?” He smiled encouragingly at the both of them, hoping to downplay his quick defense of Rael with diplomacy. “Rael will not run you through with blade again if you promise to keep your clothes on.”
"Little danger I'll take them off again any time soon," he began to say, but Rael interrupted before he got more than half the words out.
“Hold on, Etienne,” Rael said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “He deserves to know.” She picked up a stick near her feet and began tracing designs in the dirt. Somehow, it was easier to look at the ground than at either of them.
Etienne wanted to stop her and got as far as to shake his head, brow furrowed. But she continued and he watched for Beldin’s reaction instead.
“I was performing at a tavern in Denerim, one frequented by nobles who want to slum it with the commoners. I...well...found myself in the wrong room, and a man entered it.” She looked up at Beldin with eyes full of regret. “He was a mirror of you, sirrah… You said you have a twin brother?”
"Did I?" he shook his head. "I do, but I don't remember saying it. I haven't seen him in eight years, but we used to be mirror images of each other."
Rael nodded and looked back to her dirt sketches. “This man, your brother, he found me in his room, you see. He’d seen me performing earlier that night and… he made an unfortunate assumption…”
"He thought you were interested in him?" Beldin prompted. "He's married, but I can't vouch for his fidelity."
“There’s something about taverns and ale that can make men forget their gold rings,” Rael replied. “And he assumed more than my interest. He took me for… he thought that…” She blinked back some tears and cursed under her breath.
Without hesitation, Etienne’s hand moved back to hers. “Rael, you don’t have to tell us this,” he whispered. The poor thing! It all came together in his mind: her reaction in the inn, her haste to escape, the gratitude she felt after, and even the way she avoided them both after they had saved the other man.
"He thought your playing was not the only entertainment on offer?" Beldin asked more gently.
“Just so, sirrah,” she said with a sigh. “When I tried to tell him he was mistaken, he took me for a tough negotiator. When I refused again, he… was offended that someone like me would deny someone like him.” She wiped a stray tear from the side of her eye and found the strength to finish. “He was drunk, and enraged, and he tried to grab me. I was quicker and moved aside. His face hit the wall and I made my escape.” She dropped the stick and straightened up, as though lighter from unburdening herself.
Etienne was at a loss for words as he watched her, but offered his handkerchief instead.
"What an ass," Beldin said. "I know it means next to nothing, but I apologize on my brother's behalf. And you thought I was him the whole time? No wonder you didn't want anything to do with me, and no wonder I gave you such a fright, especially after you saw what I was hiding. I am sorry for that."
Rael nodded and gently pushed Etienne’s proffered handkerchief away. “It was an easy error to make about your brother. I didn't know there were two.”
"Without a doubt," Beldin said. "Our own mother could not tell us apart, when she lived."
Rael’s face brightened unexpectedly. “I have two brothers myself that I could not distinguish if they did not wear their hair differently.” Her expression grew dark again. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for… you know… the impaling...”
“You cannot guilt yourself for something you had no control over,” Etienne replied quietly. “It could have gone worse.”
“Not much,” Rael said ruefully.
“Much.” Etienne shrugged. “You could have told me about this prior to confronting Beldin and I promise you, messere, it would have ended a lot faster. And-”
“Yes, Etienne, I’d love to advertise how I was mistaken for a ******,” she said caustically. “Especially to you!” The words were out before she could stop them and she turned her face away so he could not see the sudden pinkness in her cheeks.
“No, I didn’t mean it that way…” He cut himself off quickly, worried he’d only make it worse.
"Apologize for only the faults you own," Beldin said. "My memory of what happened is hazy, but I remember staggering and falling onto your blade. You drew it, but you did not stab me."
“I hardly see the distinction,” Rael replied. “You very came within inches of death. If Etienne hadn’t come…” The eyes that met Etienne’s were shining with admiration.
“But all is fine now,” Etienne insisted again, albeit far quieter than before and with an uncertain expression on his face.
Rael found her feet and stood up. She held out her hand to Beldin and said, “Give me what’s left of your shirt, serah. I can mend it for you. It’s the least I can do.”
Etienne climbed to his feet as well and offered Beldin a hand up. The glowing windows of the farmhouse awaited.
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