15 – 18 Guardian 9:41
The ground shuddered beneath Cullen’s boots as he stood among the chaos, directing the combined forces of Templars and Rangers to hold the line against the encroaching demons. His voice rang out, steady and commanding, even as the unnatural glow of the rift in the distance cast an eerie green pall over the battlefield.
“Reinforce the left flank! Hold them there!” he barked, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.
But then Riley’s voice broke through the din, sharp and desperate. “She’s alive! Someone get help!”
The words struck him like a blow. His head snapped toward the Temple steps just as a figure emerged, stumbling before collapsing onto the cold stone. The fur-lined white cloak, now streaked with ash and blood, was unmistakable.
Ariana.
His heart twisted violently, relief and terror clashing in his chest. She was alive—but barely. His legs moved before his mind could catch up, carrying him toward her crumpled form. The glowing green light emanating from her hand made his breath hitch. What is this? What happened to her?
By the time he reached her, Riley was already kneeling beside Ariana, her hands gripping her shoulders, shaking her gently. “Wolf! Come on, wake up. You hear me? Stay with me!” Riley’s voice cracked, panic seeping through her usual confident tone.
Cullen dropped to his knees beside them, his gauntlet hovering uncertainly over Ariana’s hand as his gaze swept over her. She looked so small, so fragile—words he would never have associated with her before. The glowing green magic pulsing from her hand sent a chill down his spine, but it was the pallor of her face and the stillness of her body that twisted the knife in his chest.
“She’s breathing,” Riley muttered, her voice tight. But her eyes darted between Cullen and Ariana’s hand, fear creeping into her expression. “What the hell is this?”
Cullen didn’t answer immediately. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for Ariana’s left hand, carefully pulling off the glove that covered it. The glow intensified as the glove slid free, the green light illuminating her slender fingers. And there, nestled on her ring finger, was the engagement ring he had given her all those years ago.
His breath caught. The sight of it—so simple, so familiar—brought a wave of emotion crashing over him. She still wore it. Through everything, through the years they had been apart, she still had it. A lump rose in his throat, and he clenched his jaw against the sudden, overwhelming ache in his chest.
The ring gleamed faintly in the unnatural light, a testament to promises made long ago. It was more than a symbol; it was a lifeline, tethering him to the memory of who they once were. And who, perhaps, they could still be.
“She didn’t do this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s not a mage. Someone—something—did this to her.”
Riley’s head snapped up, her voice fierce despite the tears brimming in her eyes. “Of course she didn’t do this. Whatever happened up there, she was trying to stop it. She always is.”
Cullen swallowed hard, his mind racing. The explosion, the Divine’s death, the rift—it all felt like a puzzle with missing pieces. He had failed to protect Ariana in Kirkwall, had left her to face the weight of that city’s chaos alone. Now, seeing her like this, broken and battered, that failure cut deeper than any blade ever could.
“She’s burning up,” Riley said suddenly, her voice taut with urgency as she adjusted Ariana’s cloak in a futile attempt to shield her from the biting cold. Her hands trembled as they hovered near Ariana’s face, brushing away stray strands of hair that clung to her pale, sweat-dampened skin. “We need to move her. Maker, what do we do?”
Cullen eyes fixed on Ariana’s unnaturally still form. The soft green light emanating from her hand cast flickering shadows across her face, her features drawn and fragile in the eerie glow. His heart ached at the sight, the sharp contrast to the defiant strength he had always admired in her.
She doesn’t belong here, like this, he thought bitterly, anger and fear warring within him. She was a fighter, his fighter, and yet here she lay, cold and vulnerable, on the edge of slipping away.
Without a word, Cullen slid his arms beneath her back and legs, lifting her as though she weighed nothing. His armor clinked softly as he rose, the sound barely audible over the pounding of his own heart. “We get her to safety,” he said, his voice low but firm, the words steadying him even as the storm of emotion threatened to break through his composure.
Riley stayed close, her boots crunching on the frozen ground as she followed his every step. Her hand lingered on Ariana’s shoulder, her lips pressed into a thin line as though willing her strength to flow into her unconscious leader. “She’ll fight through this,” Riley muttered, her voice barely more than a whisper, as if speaking the words aloud would make them true. “She has to.”
Cullen glanced at her, his golden eyes shadowed with a mixture of pain and resolve. “She will,” he replied, though his voice betrayed the doubt gnawing at the edges of his mind. It sounded more like a prayer than a certainty, a plea to the Maker for something—anything—to keep her tethered to this world.
His gaze fell back to Ariana’s face. Even now, despite the ash streaking her cheeks and the blood matted in her dark hair, she looked achingly familiar. But it was the faint gleam of silver on her hand that kept drawing his attention. Her ring—their ring—still nestled on her finger. His throat tightened, a pang of something too raw to name cutting through him. After everything, she had kept it.
A soldier hurried over with Cullen’s horse, and he carefully mounted, Ariana cradled securely in his arms. The warmth of her body, faint and fragile, seeped through his armor, a reminder of how close he had come to losing her.
Riley swung onto her own horse with practiced ease, her sharp eyes scanning the treacherous path ahead. “You keep her safe, Cullen,” she said, her voice rough, edged with a vulnerability she rarely let show. “Whatever this is… don’t let it take her.”
He met her gaze, the weight of her words sinking into his soul. “I won’t,” he promised, his tone steely. Yet beneath the resolve, his heart twisted with fear. The unnatural light still pulsed from Ariana’s hand, a chilling reminder of the unknown force now entwined with her fate.
As they rode down the mountain, the cold wind lashed at them, carrying the scent of ash and blood. Cullen’s arms tightened around Ariana’s unconscious form, his mind a storm of worry and determination.
I will fight for her this time, he vowed silently, his jaw set with grim resolve. No matter what it takes.
~~~
The heavy atmosphere in Haven pressed down like a storm cloud as Cullen carried Ariana through the gates, her limp body a stark contrast to the flickering green light that pulsed from her hand. The glow had dimmed, but its rhythm was no less unnatural, casting an eerie hue over her pale features. Each step felt heavier, burdened not by her weight but by the crushing fear gnawing at his chest. Around him, soldiers and civilians scrambled to prepare for the unknown threat looming above the mountains—a tear in the sky that seemed to pulse with malevolent intent.
As they crossed the threshold into Haven, Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine hurried to meet them. Cassandra’s eyes immediately locked onto Ariana, her sharp gaze flicking to Cullen with a mixture of confusion and suspicion.
“Commander,” Cassandra began, her tone demanding, “did you find the Divine?”
Cullen shook his head grimly. “There were no survivors at the Temple… save for her.” His voice cracked slightly as he gestured to Ariana. “She’s injured, and something—some magic—is clinging to her hand. She needs a healer immediately.” The words came out more forcefully than intended, his frustration barely contained.
Before anyone could respond, a calm, unfamiliar voice interrupted. “I may be able to help.”
All eyes turned toward the speaker, a tall, pale man approaching with deliberate calm. His piercing gaze seemed to cut through the tension with an almost eerie ease.
“Who are you?” Cassandra demanded, her hand instinctively moving to her sword hilt.
“I am Solas,” the man replied evenly, his gaze flicking briefly to Ariana before returning to Cassandra. “I have knowledge of what afflicts her and may be able to stabilize it.”
Cullen’s frown deepened, his grip on Ariana tightening. “And why should we trust you?”
Solas’s expression remained maddeningly serene. “You have no reason to trust me. But if that mark on her hand remains unchecked, she will die—and possibly take much of Haven with her.”
A tense silence followed, broken only by the distant murmurs of frightened villagers. Cullen exchanged a wary glance with Cassandra and Leliana before nodding sharply. “Very well. Lead the way.”
Solas led them to a nearby building, its interior sparse but cleared for use. Cullen gently laid Ariana on the makeshift bed, the green glow casting faint shadows on the bare walls. His eyes lingered on her face, and for a moment, the weight of everything threatened to overwhelm him. She has to pull through, he thought fiercely.
Cassandra’s expression remained thunderous, distrust radiating off her in waves as Solas knelt beside Ariana and began his work. The elf’s murmured words of power filled the room, the green light on Ariana’s hand flaring slightly with each syllable.
The door creaked open, and Varric entered, his usual nonchalance replaced by a grim determination. He knelt by Ariana’s side, brushing ash from her hair with a tenderness that belied his gruff exterior. “Pup, what in the Void did you get yourself into this time?” he muttered, his voice low and pained.
Cassandra’s sharp tone cut through the moment. “Varric, you know her? Did you know what she was planning?”
Varric’s gaze snapped to Cassandra, his usual humor nowhere to be found. “Watch your tone, Seeker,” he said, standing straighter. “She didn’t plan for this. You think she caused it? Look at her!” He gestured toward Ariana, his voice rising. “Does she look like someone who orchestrated this chaos?”
“She’s the only survivor,” Cassandra snapped back. “And the Divine is dead. Who else should we hold accountable?”
Riley, who had been silent until now, stepped forward, her tone biting. “Probably not the person the Divine herself hired to ensure this didn’t happen,” she said coldly.
Cassandra’s glare faltered for a moment, a flicker of pain or guilt crossing her face before her expression hardened again.
Cullen stepped between them, his voice calm but resolute. “I don’t believe she’s responsible for the explosion. She’s clearly been affected by whatever happened. Right now, she needs help, not accusations.”
Cassandra’s eyes narrowed, her frustration mounting. “This isn’t about belief, Commander. The Divine is dead. Someone must answer for this.”
“And when we find who is responsible, they will,” Cullen replied, his voice steady but firm. “But it wasn’t her.”
Cassandra crossed her arms, her tone icy. “The White Wolf is a mercenary, nothing more. You’re letting sentiment cloud your judgment.”
“No,” Cullen snapped, his jaw tightening. “I’m looking at the evidence—or the lack of it. I left the Order to follow what I believed was right, not to condemn the innocent for survival.” His voice carried a weight of conviction that silenced the room.
Cassandra opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by Riley stepping forward. “If you try to take her, you’ll have to go through us,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “The Rangers won’t stand by and let you throw her into a dungeon.”
Before Cassandra could respond, the door burst open again. “What happened? Where’s Wolf?” Eshara demanded, her eyes wide as she rushed to Ariana’s side. Her gaze snapped to Solas. “Who are you, and what are you doing to her?”
Solas didn’t look up from his work. “I’m stabilizing the mark on her hand. If you are her healer, tend to her other injuries. Quickly.”
Eshara hesitated, then nodded, her hands already moving to check the extent of Ariana’s injuries.
Cullen watched the scene unfold, a wave of relief washing over him despite the tension. Ariana had people who cared deeply for her, people willing to fight for her. Yet it did little to ease the ache in his chest.
Cassandra’s voice broke through his thoughts, low and cold. “Commander. A word.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and stormed out.
Cullen took a deep breath, running a hand over his face. He turned to Riley. “Station your Rangers here. She’s never unguarded. No mages or Templars, either. Cassandra could incapacitate both.”
Riley gave a curt nod. “Done. Three squads, full rotation. No one touches her.”
“Varric,” Cullen added, his voice softening, “stay with her. Let me know if anything changes.”
The dwarf nodded, his focus still on Ariana. “I’m not leaving her side, Commander.”
Cullen straightened, his resolve hardening once more. He wouldn’t let Ariana face this alone. Not again.
~~~
Cullen stood just outside the room where Ariana lay, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The door was slightly ajar, and the soft murmur of voices inside—Riley’s clipped commands and Eshara’s calm instructions—was faintly audible. His heart ached at the thought of Ariana lying motionless, her strength reduced to this fragile stillness. He had promised to protect her, and yet here they were.
He exhaled sharply and turned to leave, intending to meet Cassandra. Before he had taken more than a step, Leliana’s voice, soft and deliberate, came from the shadows.
“Commander.”
Cullen stopped, his shoulders tensing as she stepped forward, her expression unreadable in the dim light of the corridor. “Leliana,” he greeted, his tone carefully neutral.
“You’re on your way to speak with Cassandra,” she said, more a statement than a question.
“I am,” he replied curtly. “Is there something you need?”
Leliana’s piercing gaze flicked briefly to the door behind him. “Not from you, but perhaps something you need to hear.”
Cullen’s brow furrowed, but before he could respond, she continued. “Are you certain everything is alright?”
His jaw tightened, and he gestured toward the sky visible through a cracked window, its green glow casting an eerie pall over Haven. “Nothing is as it should be, Leliana. That thing is growing. The Temple is destroyed. The Divine is dead. Of course, everything is not alright.”
Leliana tilted her head slightly, her voice calm but probing. “And yet, amidst all this, you seem… certain.”
Cullen’s eyes narrowed. “If you have a point, make it.”
“The White Wolf,” Leliana said simply. “You seem convinced of her innocence. What makes you so certain she is not responsible for the explosion at the Conclave?”
Cullen’s heart clenched, but he forced his expression to remain stoic. “Her reputation precedes her. I’ve followed her work for years. This… chaos isn’t her style. She believes in protecting those who can’t protect themselves.”
Leliana arched a delicate brow. “Her work? Or her?”
Cullen stiffened. “What exactly are you implying?”
“I imply nothing,” Leliana said smoothly. “I am merely observing that you seem… personally invested in her safety.”
“She’s not a criminal,” Cullen said, his voice low but firm. “She has risked her life to save others countless times. To accuse her without proof—”
“Is not something you would allow,” Leliana finished, her lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. “Interesting.”
He exhaled sharply, his control slipping. “What happened at the Temple was not her doing. I will see to it that she is protected, Leliana—no matter what.”
Leliana studied him for a moment, her sharp gaze cutting through his defenses. “You care for her,” she said softly, the statement more revelation than accusation.
Cullen’s breath hitched, but he didn’t deny it. “She—” His voice faltered before he forced himself to continue. “She’s been through enough. I won’t let her suffer for something she didn’t do.”
Leliana’s smile deepened, but her tone remained gentle. “For what it’s worth, I do not believe the White Wolf is responsible. She was a victim of its chaos, just as we all are. I knew Justinia well and I trust her judgment.” She stepped closer, her voice dropping slightly. “Your secret is safe, Commander.”
Cullen blinked, his thoughts racing as he realized just how much he had revealed. His mind replayed the exchange, his chest tightening. Leliana knew. Of course, she knew.
Before he could respond, Leliana turned and began to walk away. “The Seeker may demand answers,” she said over her shoulder, her voice carrying a note of warning. “But do not let her doubt shake you, Commander. Your convictions are what will see us through this.”
As her footsteps faded, Cullen remained rooted in place, his hand unconsciously brushing the hilt of his sword. His gaze drifted back to the door, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. Ariana lay beyond that threshold, her fate uncertain, but his resolve crystallized in that moment. He would protect her. He had to.
Maker, let her survive this. Let her wake. Give us a chance to mend what was broken.
He turned sharply, heading toward his meeting with Cassandra, the weight of his promise settling heavily on his shoulders. But for the first time in years, his steps felt purposeful—not dictated by orders, but by the strength of his own will.
~~~
Ariana’s eyes snapped open, her breath hitching as an oppressive silence enveloped her. The room swam before her, its edges bleeding into shadow. A faint green light pulsed in her peripheral vision, and the walls seemed to ripple, shifting between the familiar stone of Haven and the jagged, dreamlike spires of the Fade.
Her heart thundered in her chest as fragmented memories surged forward—flashes of the Conclave, the Divine’s desperate cry, and that searing, blinding light. She sat up abruptly, her fingers clutching at the edge of the cot beneath her. The world wavered, and for a moment, the shadows around her coalesced into monstrous shapes, their whispering voices clawing at her sanity.
“Wolf,” a voice called softly, steady and familiar. Eshara.
Ariana turned toward the sound, her vision still hazy. She barely registered the healer’s presence, her hands moving to the glowing mark on her left hand. The sight of it sent a jolt of terror through her.
“She’s waking up,” Solas murmured, his voice calm but tinged with concern. He stepped closer, his pale eyes fixed on her. “Lady Trevelyan, you are safe, but you must—”
“Safe?” Ariana hissed, her voice low and strained. “Where is this? What…what happened?” Her eyes darted around the room, catching fleeting glimpses of shadowy figures that faded when she tried to focus.
“You’re in Haven,” Varric said, stepping forward with his usual deliberate calm, though his expression betrayed his worry. “We found you after the explosion. You’ve been out for hours.”
Ariana shook her head, her breathing quickening. “No,” she muttered, her voice trembling. “This isn’t real. I saw—” Her words faltered as the flickering shapes at the edges of her vision grew darker, more solid.
Before anyone could stop her, Ariana swung her legs over the side of the bed, her movements sharp and frantic. She staggered to her feet, swaying slightly as the floor seemed to ripple beneath her. “I need to—” she paused, clutching the edge of a nearby table to steady herself, her breaths coming in short, panicked bursts. “I need to find—”
“Wolf, listen to me,” Eshara said urgently, taking a cautious step forward. “You’re hurt, but we can help you. Please, sit back down. You need rest.”
Ariana’s gaze snapped to Eshara, her body tensing as though preparing for a fight. “Stay back,” she warned, her voice sharp and unsteady. “Don’t come near me!”
Solas frowned but remained still, his tone soothing. “You are caught between the Fade and the waking world. Your confusion is understandable, but you must ground yourself. Focus on the here and now.”
“I can’t!” Ariana’s voice cracked, her vision blurring as reality slipped further from her grasp. The room seemed to twist and ripple, the faces of those around her distorting like reflections in a broken mirror.
Varric took a cautious step forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Pup, it’s me. It’s Varric. You know me.”
Ariana’s breathing grew ragged, her fingers curling into fists. “You’re not real,” she whispered, her voice choked with fear. “None of this is real.”
The door opened suddenly, and Cullen stepped inside, his expression grim as the chaotic scene unfolded before him. His gaze locked on Ariana, her stance defensive, her eyes wide and unfocused. He recognized the look immediately—the haunted, distant gaze of someone caught in the grip of a nightmare they couldn’t escape.
“Ariana,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the commotion.
Her head snapped toward him, her breath catching. “Cullen?” she whispered, her voice breaking. She took a hesitant step forward, her eyes brimming with tears. “You’re here?”
“I’m here,” he said softly, his voice steady but filled with urgency. He moved closer, his hands raised to show he wasn’t a threat. “But you need to sit down. You’re hurt. Please, let them help you.”
Her eyes searched his face, her expression crumbling. “You’re… dead,” she choked out, her voice raw with anguish. “I failed you. I failed everyone.”
Cullen’s heart clenched, but he kept his tone calm, soothing. “No, Ariana. I’m alive, and so are you. But you’re dying, and if you don’t let them help, you won’t make it.”
Her knees wobbled, but she stayed upright, shaking her head. “What’s the point if I’ve lost you?”
Cullen closed the distance between them, taking her trembling left hand in his. His fingers wrapped firmly over hers, covering both the mark and the ring she still wore. The sight of it sent a fresh wave of emotion through him, but he pushed it aside. “You haven’t lost me,” he said, his voice steady and resolute. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere. But I need you to stay with me, Ariana. Promise me you’ll fight. Promise me you’ll stay alive.”
Her gaze finally steadied on him, the panic in her eyes giving way to exhaustion and a flicker of understanding. “Cullen…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Promise me,” he urged, his grip tightening just slightly.
Ariana’s legs gave out as her body surrendered to the strain. Cullen caught her easily, lowering her gently back onto the bed. “I’m here,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I won’t leave you.”
Her eyes fluttered closed, her breathing uneven but steadying as she slipped back into unconsciousness. Cullen remained by her side, his hand still resting over hers, his jaw tight with determination.
“Hold on, Ariana,” he whispered. “Just hold on.”
~~~
It took days for Solas to stabilize the mark on Ariana’s hand. Each pulse of its strange magic seemed to expand and contract with the tear in the sky, tethered to the growing rift like a heartbeat. Though her condition was fragile, Cassandra repeatedly demanded she be transferred to a cell, insisting Ariana was a threat. Riley and her Rangers, however, stood firm, guarding her room and refusing access to anyone who didn’t have explicit permission from Cullen, Varric, or Riley herself.
The tension between Haven’s factions simmered, but for Cullen, the greater weight was Ariana’s precarious state. She had woken only the one time, confused and frightened. Each day her survival seemed less certain.
Cullen and Riley stood in the War Room, pouring over reports. Their efforts to hold the line against the demons were relentless, with Rangers and soldiers working together to plug gaps in their defenses. Despite the steady onslaught, Cullen admired how Riley commanded the Rangers with a sharpness that reminded him of Ariana. The thought unsettled him—another reminder of her absence.
A sharp knock interrupted their conversation.
“Lieutenant Riley?” Elliot appeared at the door, his face hesitant. “She’s here. Asking for Wolf. I didn’t know what to say.”
Riley’s brow furrowed in confusion before realization dawned. “Isabel,” she whispered to herself. She straightened, her voice firm. “It’s alright, Elliot. I’ll take it from here. Where is she?”
“Outside the Chantry,” Elliot replied.
Cullen looked between them, his curiosity evident. “‘She’? Who is ‘she’?”
Riley sighed, glancing at Cullen before nodding. “You should come with me. You need to meet with her.”
Together, they stepped outside into the brisk mountain air. Cullen’s eyes quickly found Isabel standing near the Chantry doors, her face lined with worry.
“You’re here.” Riley greeted, walking toward her. “Good. We need you.”
Isabel’s eyes searched Riley’s face, her voice trembling. “Where is she, Riley? Is she…?” She couldn’t finish, the weight of the unspoken question clear.
Before Riley could answer, Cullen stepped into view. Isabel’s gaze shifted to him, her expression softening into relief. “Cullen,” she breathed, a faint smile breaking through her concern.
“Isabel,” Cullen said, his voice quiet with surprise. He crossed the distance quickly, and she pulled him into a warm embrace.
“My dear boy,” she said, her tone affectionate but strained. “What are you doing here?”
Cullen let out a small laugh, though it carried no humor. “I could give the Order no more,” he said simply. “Seeker Pentaghast recruited me to oversee the military operations here.”
Before Isabel could respond, a small voice called out. “Cullen?”
Cullen turned, his eyes widening as Emma darted toward him. Dropping to his knees, he caught her in a tight embrace. The girl clung to him fiercely, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “I missed you.”
Cullen’s chest tightened as he held her. “I missed you too,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.
Isabel watched, her expression both tender and clouded with worry. “She missed you,” she said gently. “More than you know.”
Emma pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “Ari said you were too busy to come read stories with me anymore,” she said, her voice trembling. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, Emma,” Cullen said, his heart breaking at her words. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I… Kirkwall wasn’t a good place for you. Ari was trying to keep you safe.”
Emma sniffled, her small face twisting with doubt. “She always cried when I asked about you,” she whispered. “Didn’t she want to visit you?”
Cullen closed his eyes, guilt washing over him. She always cried when I asked. The weight of his failures pressed harder. “Emma, I promise you—it wasn’t your fault. Or Ari’s. I missed you both more than I can say.”
Emma studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Can you read me a story tonight?” she asked, her voice hopeful.
“I will,” he promised, his smile faint but earnest. “And maybe Ari will feel better if you read to her too,” she added innocently.
Cullen’s throat tightened, and he could only nod, unable to find the words.
“Go with Elliot, Emma,” Isabel said gently. “Get something to eat.”
As Emma skipped off, Cullen’s shoulders sagged. “I didn’t realize how much my absence hurt her,” he said quietly.
Isabel’s gaze was steady, her voice soft but firm. “She’s a child, Cullen. She feels deeply, but she also forgives deeply. You’ll make it right. And Ariana?” She hesitated. “She forgave you long ago. Truly, she never blamed you.”
The words stung more than they soothed. Cullen nodded, though the guilt only deepened. I failed them both.
“Cullen…” Isabel’s voice broke through his thoughts, sharper now. “Where is Ariana? Is she alive?”
Cullen’s face fell, his earlier warmth replaced with a heavy grief. “She’s alive. Barely,” he said, his voice quiet. “The mark—something magical—nearly killed her. Solas is stabilizing it, but Cassandra…” He hesitated. “The Seeker wants her arrested.”
“What?” Isabel’s voice rose, her disbelief turning to fury. “After everything she’s done—what you’ve done for this cause—she wants to chain her?”
“I’m doing everything I can to protect her,” Cullen said firmly. “The Rangers are guarding her room, and I’ve given orders to ensure no one touches her. But if Cassandra pushes further…” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought. “I’ll stand between her and anyone who tries to harm her.”
Isabel studied him for a long moment, her expression softening. “You always were a good man, Cullen,” she said with a faint smile. “Now, take me to her.”
Cullen nodded and led Isabel toward Ariana’s room, his heart heavy but resolute.