28 Justinian 9:41
Varric leaned back against the hearth in the main hall of Skyhold, the weight of a small box in his hands grounding him. His thumbs traced the edges of the smooth wood as he glanced toward the door. Morning light poured in, chasing away the lingering shadows of the night. It had been over two weeks since Ariana left for the Fallow Mire, and every day since had only deepened the knot of guilt in his chest.
He sighed, his gaze dropping to the box. Inside was the bracelet she had given him years ago—a simple thing, but it meant everything. He’d worn it every day since she’d handed it to him in the dim light of The Hanged Man, her voice soft with a vulnerability that had caught him off guard. That constellation, Visus, had guided her, and now, it had become his reminder of her faith in him. And he’d let her down.
“You alright there, Varric?” Isabel’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. She leaned against the doorway, her arms crossed, watching him with a mix of curiosity and concern.
“Fine,” he said, though his tone lacked conviction. He pushed off the hearth, holding the box out to her. “I need you to do me a favor.”
Isabel raised an eyebrow but took the box. “What’s this?”
“For Ariana,” Varric said, running a hand through his hair. “When she gets back. It’s… something I should’ve done in person, but I’m not sure I’ll have the chance right away.”
Isabel studied him for a moment before lifting the lid. Her gaze softened as she saw the bracelet nestled inside. “You’re giving this back?”
“For now,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “Until I can earn it back.”
Isabel closed the box, holding it carefully as though it contained something fragile. “You know she’ll forgive you, right? She always does.”
“Yeah,” Varric said, though his expression didn’t match the confidence in his words. “But it’s not about forgiveness, Blossom. Not this time. I need her to trust me again. And that’s gonna take more than words.”
Isabel nodded slowly, her fingers brushing over the box. “You’re not wrong. But she’s not going to hate you forever, Varric. She needs you as much as you need her.”
A faint, rueful smile tugged at his lips. “Here’s hoping you’re right. Just… make sure she gets it, will you?”
“I will,” Isabel promised. She hesitated, then added, “She came back last night, by the way. Late. Probably still asleep.”
Varric blinked, his surprise quickly giving way to a groan. “Of course she did. No one tells me these things.”
“She’s probably exhausted,” Isabel said with a smirk. “But I’ll make sure this gets to her as soon as she’s up.”
“Thanks, Blossom,” Varric said, his tone softening. As she walked away, he let out a long breath, his fingers twitching slightly as if he were still holding the box. He wasn’t sure if this gesture would be enough, but it was a start.
And Maker, he hoped it would be enough.
—
Varric sighed, watching Isabel disappear down the hall with the small box cradled carefully in her hands. He lingered for a moment longer before turning toward the opposite corridor, his boots echoing softly against the stone floor as he made his way to Hawke’s quarters. The plan, the apology, the story—it was all ready. Or at least he thought it was. But as much as he hated to admit it, he needed Hawke’s seal of approval before putting it into motion.
He found her lounging in her chair near the hearth, a half-empty mug of ale in one hand and a book in the other. She looked up as he entered, her lips quirking into a smirk. “Let me guess—more edits?”
“Don’t tempt me,” Varric said dryly, pulling up a chair opposite her. He reached into his satchel and pulled out the bound pages, setting them on the table between them. “This is it. The final draft. Tell me it’s ready, because if it’s not, I might just burn it and call it a day.”
Hawke snorted, setting her mug down and picking up the manuscript. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You’ve been writing for years—you’re not about to let one story defeat you.”
“Maybe not,” Varric muttered, leaning back and crossing his arms. “But this one’s… different.”
Hawke’s teasing expression softened slightly as she flipped through the pages. She read in silence for several minutes, her brow furrowing in places, her lips twitching into a smile at others. When she finally set the manuscript down, she leaned back with a satisfied nod. “It’s good to go, Varric. Hits all the right notes—heartache, redemption, even a little humor. Ariana’s going to love it.”
Varric let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”
“Have you talked to Maryden about the songs yet?” Hawke asked, reaching for her mug again.
“The songs are written and ready,” Varric confirmed. “She’s been practicing all week. Trust me, it’ll all come together.”
Hawke arched an eyebrow. “You sound almost optimistic. Should I be worried?”
“Don’t get used to it,” Varric shot back, though his smirk quickly faded. “I just found out Ariana came back last night. Late. Isabel told me.”
Hawke sat up straighter, her expression turning serious. “And you haven’t gone to see her yet?”
“No,” Varric admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Figured she’d be asleep. Besides, if there’s ever going to be a time to do this, it’s tonight. I need your help.”
Hawke leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “What kind of help?”
“Getting all the right people to the tavern and setting it up,” Varric said, his tone a little gruff as though he hated asking for assistance. “You’re better at the whole ‘herding cats’ thing than I am. And I need you to ask Cullen to bring her after sundown.”
Hawke’s smirk returned, though it was gentler this time. “You really think Cullen’s going to say no to you?”
“Not the point,” Varric replied with a wave of his hand. “She’ll listen to him, and he’ll listen to you. Besides, I’m guessing she hasn’t been back to the tavern since she left, and that’s where this whole thing is going down.”
Hawke regarded him for a moment before standing and grabbing her coat. “Alright, I’ll take care of it. But Varric?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re doing the right thing,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “And it’s going to mean a lot to her. You know that, right?”
Varric sighed, his gaze dropping to the manuscript on the table. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I hope so.”
Hawke gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading out the door, leaving Varric alone with his thoughts. For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the bound pages that had taken weeks of work and sleepless nights. Then, with a shake of his head, he stood and slipped the manuscript back into his satchel.
“Alright, pup,” he muttered under his breath. “Time to see if this old dwarf still has a little charm left.”
~~~
Cullen sifted through the stack of reports on his desk, his brow furrowed as he made notes and issued orders to the soldiers standing at attention before him. His tone was quiet, his instructions curt but efficient. Even so, a noticeable stillness hung over him, a departure from his usual commanding presence.
The sound of the door opening made him glance up, his expression softening slightly as Hawke strode in. She raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the doorframe as the soldiers saluted and filed out.
“You look like you haven’t slept, Commander,” she said lightly, though her tone carried a hint of curiosity.
“I’ve had worse nights,” Cullen replied, setting down his quill. He leaned back in his chair, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. “Ariana is upstairs.”
Hawke’s eyebrows lifted slightly, though her grin was quick to follow. “Upstairs, huh? So that’s where she’s been hiding.”
“She came in late last night,” Cullen explained, leaning back in his chair. “Rode through the gates alone and barely made it to the bed before passing out.”
“And you’re not in bed with her?” Hawke teased.
Cullen chuckled “I was for a while, but she needs rest. If I’m going to keep the Inquisition from demanding her attention, then I need to be here.
Hawke’s smirk deepened as she motioned for him to follow her outside. “Come on, you could use some fresh air.”
Reluctantly, Cullen rose, following her out onto the battlements. The crisp morning air was a sharp contrast to the warmth of his office, and he folded his arms against the chill. Hawke leaned on the stone wall, studying him for a moment.
“I need a favor,” she said, her tone uncharacteristically serious.
Cullen arched an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”
“Depends,” Hawke replied with a grin. “Varric has this whole elaborate plan to apologize to Ariana. He’s been working on it for weeks, and he wants her at the tavern after sundown.”
Cullen’s expression darkened slightly, skepticism evident. “Elaborate plan?”
“Songs, stories, the whole works,” Hawke said with a wave of her hand. “Look, I know it sounds ridiculous, but Varric’s been beating himself up about this. And you know as well as I do how much Ariana needs him.”
Cullen sighed, his gaze drifting toward the mountains beyond Skyhold. Hawke wasn’t wrong—Ariana did need Varric, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it. Finally, he nodded. “Alright. I’ll bring her.”
Hawke’s grin widened, and she clapped him on the shoulder. “Knew I could count on you, Commander. Just don’t tell her, alright? Let it be a surprise.”
With that, she turned and headed down the stairs, leaving Cullen to his thoughts. He lingered for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling over him.
Before he could return to his office, Isabel stepped in, a small box in her hands.
“Is she still asleep?” she asked quietly.
Cullen nodded. “She was exhausted when she got back last night. She woke up briefly around dawn but fell asleep again.
“Can you give this to Ariana when she wakes up?” Isabel asked, as she held the box out to him, her voice hushed. “It’s from Varric.”
Cullen’s brow furrowed as he took the box. He studied it briefly before glancing back at Isabel. “What is it?”
She shrugged, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Something she gave him a long time ago. He said… he feels like he needs to earn it back.”
Cullen exhaled slowly, turning the box over in his hands. “He’s going through a lot of trouble for this.”
“He should be,” Isabel replied, her tone soft but firm. “She’s worth it.”
Cullen nodded, his grip tightening slightly on the box. “She is.”
Isabel gave him a small, knowing smile before slipping out the door. Once alone, Cullen looked down at the box again. His lips quirked into a faint smile, and he shook his head slightly. He appreciated the effort Varric was making—it spoke volumes about how much the dwarf cared for Ariana.
And truthfully, Cullen appreciated anyone who cared enough to go through this much trouble for her.
~~~
The faint sound of the ladder creaking pulled Ariana from sleep. She stirred, her senses still caught between dreams and reality, as she blinked against the soft light filtering through the room. A familiar figure approached the bed, his steps quiet and measured.
“Cullen?” Her voice was drowsy, barely above a whisper. She rubbed her eyes, pushing herself up slightly on her elbows. “What time is it?”
“Almost midday,” he said softly, his golden eyes warm as he sat at the edge of the bed. She noticed the small box in his hands, tied with a neat ribbon and accompanied by a folded note.
“What’s that?” she asked, her curiosity piqued as a faint smile graced her lips. “A gift for me?”
Cullen hesitated, his lips twitching in a small smile. “Not from me. It’s from Varric.”
At the mention of Varric, her heart gave a small, uncertain jolt. Sitting up fully, she reached for the box, glancing between it and Cullen. Carefully, she untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. The sight of the bracelet inside stopped her breath.
It was the bracelet she had given Varric so many years ago—a simple piece of cloth and leather with a silver plate engraved with the Visus constellation. The memory of that moment in Kirkwall hit her with a sudden force, and her chest tightened painfully.
Her hands trembled as she picked up the bracelet, her eyes filling with tears. She swallowed hard, unable to stop the wave of emotion crashing over her. “Why is he giving this back?” she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. “Does he not want it anymore?”
Cullen’s expression shifted immediately, his brows furrowing with concern as he moved closer. “Ari,” he said gently, his hand reaching out to steady hers. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, her voice cracking as she explained, “I gave this to him before I left Kirkwall the first time. It meant something to both of us. It’s the reason he gave me the necklace I wear. He said it was so our paths might cross again someday.” Her free hand instinctively reached up, brushing against the familiar pendant at her neck.
Cullen frowned, his hand resting on her shoulder. “Maybe you should read the note,” he suggested softly, his voice calm but steady. “I think there’s more to this than you realize.”
Ariana hesitated, her eyes dropping to the folded note she had set aside. With a shaky breath, she unfolded it, her vision blurring as she read the words written in Varric’s distinctive hand:
Pup,
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t trust you. You have always been someone I’d follow without question, someone I believed in, no matter what. I know I hurt you, and for that, I’m more sorry than I can say.
This bracelet… it means a lot to me. But right now, I feel like I need to earn it back. You deserve that much. I hope someday I’ll be able to wear it again, knowing I’ve earned your trust again, the way you’ve always had mine.
Your old friend,
– V
By the time she finished reading, the tears streaming down her cheeks had become impossible to stop. Her fingers clutched the note tightly, her head dropping as her shoulders shook with silent sobs.
“Ari,” Cullen murmured, his hand slipping around her back as he guided her into his arms. She didn’t resist, sinking into his embrace as the letter fell to her lap. He held her securely, his chin resting lightly atop her head. “It’s alright,” he whispered, his voice a steady balm against the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “Everything’s going to be alright.”
“I didn’t mean…” she started, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to make him feel like this. I was hurt, but… I never wanted him to think he needed to give this back. Maker, Cullen, I’ve already forgiven him.”
Cullen tightened his hold, letting her cry against him as he pressed a kiss to her hair. “He’ll see that,” he said quietly. “Varric knows you, Ari. And he’s doing this because he cares. Give him the chance to make it right.”
Ariana nodded against his chest, though her tears didn’t stop. She was grateful for the steady rhythm of Cullen’s heart beneath her ear, the warmth of his arms anchoring her in the moment. Slowly, her breathing began to even out, the storm within her quieting.
Cullen didn’t say anything else, letting the silence stretch between them as he held her. He could feel her calming, the tension in her frame gradually easing. When she finally looked up at him, her hazel-green eyes still glistening, there was a softness in her gaze that took his breath away.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but sincere.
He smiled faintly, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “Always,” he replied.
Ariana’s hand moved to the bracelet still clutched in her other hand. She turned it over thoughtfully, her fingers tracing the familiar engraving. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but smile softly. Varric’s words, though painful, had reminded her of something important—how much he truly valued their bond.
Her gaze drifted back to Cullen, and for a moment, she simply studied him, the warmth and steadiness in his golden eyes grounding her further. “I’m lucky to have you,” she said softly.
Cullen’s smile widened just slightly, though the sincerity in his tone was unmistakable. “I’m the lucky one.”
~~~
The sun dipped below the Frostbacks, bathing Skyhold in hues of amber and violet. Ariana sat curled up in one of the chairs in Cullen’s office, a book from his modest shelves open in her lap. The quiet crackle of the fire and the occasional rustle of papers as Cullen worked filled the space between them. She didn’t mind the silence. It was enough just to be in his company, her quiet haven tucked away from the rest of the world. She hadn’t foreseen how much of a retreat his office would become when she started cleaning it up before she left.
Every so often, she glanced up to watch him, his brow furrowed in concentration as he reviewed reports and directed orders to messengers who came and went. He was always so focused, so steady. She found herself smiling faintly, though it faded quickly as her thoughts wandered back to Varric’s note, the bracelet, and the storm of emotions she was still sorting through.
“Any thoughts on this?” Cullen’s voice broke her reverie as he held up a parchment for her to see.
Ariana leaned forward, setting the book aside to scan the report. “Give it to Riley. Rangers can handle the village. If Leliana’s scouts are right about the bandits in the area, they’ll need the extra protection.”
He nodded, scribbling down her suggestion before returning to his work. She leaned back in the chair, picking up the book again, but her attention was scattered. Her focus drifted between the warmth of the fire, the scratch of Cullen’s quill, and the steady comfort of simply being near him.
After what felt like an eternity, Cullen finally pushed his chair back with a quiet sigh, standing and stretching his arms over his head. He turned toward her, a rare ease in his posture. “Care for a drink?”
Ariana blinked, surprised. “Really? I thought you’d be buried in reports all night.”
He gave a small shrug, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint smile. “Would you rather keep me company up here while I find more reports to drown in?”
She raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eye. “Since when do you suggest taking a break? Who are you, and what have you done with my Commander?”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll admit it’s rare, but… tonight, I’d rather be with you.”
Her smile softened, and she closed the book, setting it aside as she stood. “Well, if you’re done being responsible for the moment, I’m all yours, Commander.”
~~~
As the sun dipped below the Frostbacks, bathing Skyhold in hues of amber and violet, Cullen approached Ariana with an almost uncharacteristic ease. He leaned casually against the doorway, the golden glow of the firelight catching in his eyes. “Care for a drink, Ari?”
She glanced up from the book she had been half-heartedly reading, smiling faintly. “Now? I thought you were buried under reports.”
“I was,” he replied, stepping further into the room. “But it’s been a long day. A drink might do us both some good.”
Ariana didn’t question it. She closed the book, setting it aside, and stood. “Lead the way.”
The walk to the tavern felt unusually quiet. The air was crisp, carrying the faint hum of distant conversation, but as they approached the doors of The Herald’s Rest, she noticed something odd. The usual din of merriment was absent. Instead, the tavern was subdued, the atmosphere charged with an air of anticipation.
When they stepped inside, she paused, her gaze sweeping over the room. It was almost empty, save for familiar faces scattered throughout. Riley, Valentina, Linnea, Lamberto, Hawke, Dorian, Cassandra, Isabel, Michael, Leliana, Josephine, Iron Bull, Cole, Varric, and even Maryden the bard—all of them were here, their eyes gleaming with mischief and warmth.
Before she could ask what was going on, Maryden’s lute chimed a light, whimsical melody, and Varric stepped forward with his arms outstretched. “Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence!” His grin was wide, his tone exaggeratedly theatrical. “Ladies and gentlemen, the guest of honor has arrived! I present to you, your White Wolf! Your Inquisitor!”
Ariana blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion as Cullen guided her to a table near the hearth. Cabot appeared moments later with a bottle of wine, pouring them both a glass before disappearing as swiftly as he came.
“Alright, what’s going on?” Ariana asked, glancing at Cullen, though she couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at her lips.
“You’ll see,” he replied, his expression soft and knowing as he gestured to the hearth.
The tavern buzzed with quiet anticipation as Varric stood near the hearth, his usual bravado tempered with a rare seriousness. Maryden adjusted the strings of her lute, giving Varric a small nod as if to say, “You’re ready.” He cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping over the gathered crowd, lingering briefly on Ariana before he began.
“Tonight,” Varric began, his voice carrying the weight of nostalgia and humor, “we gather to tell a tale. A tale of hardship, heroism, friendship… and mistakes.” He paused briefly, tilting his head. “And no, I’m not talking about my first draft of Hard in Hightown. That disaster is a story for another day.”
Laughter rippled through the room, and Ariana couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking her head as she took a sip of wine.
“It’s a story about two unlikely allies,” Varric continued, his tone softening, “and how even the cleverest of us sometimes lose our way.”
Ariana tilted her head slightly, curiosity sparking in her tired eyes. Cullen placed a hand on hers, his silent reassurance grounding her as the room grew still, everyone waiting for Varric’s words.
“Once upon a time,” Varric began, pacing in front of the fire, “there was a Wolf. She was strong, fierce, and independent—everything you’d expect from a creature of her kind. But even wolves can be brought low. One day, while roaming the wilderness, she was caught in a hunter’s trap.”
Maryden’s lute plucked a low, somber tune, the melody weaving through the room and setting the mood.
“The Wolf was injured, bleeding, and far from her pack. She might have died there if it weren’t for the Fox. Now, the Fox was a clever creature—smart enough to stay out of traps and quick enough to outrun most threats. But what the Fox was best at… was seeing the value in others.”
There was a ripple of laughter at that line, and Varric grinned, his tone warming as he continued. “The Fox found the Wolf and, instead of leaving her to her fate, freed her. He nursed her wounds, fed her, and when she was strong enough, he sent her on her way. The Wolf, ever grateful, promised the Fox they’d meet again.”
Ariana’s gaze dropped to the table for a moment, her hand brushing over the silver pendant she wore—a quiet, almost unconscious gesture. Cullen squeezed her hand gently, drawing her attention back to Varric.
“Years passed,” Varric went on, his voice taking on a more somber tone. “The Wolf roamed far and wide, carving her path through the wilderness. But one day, news reached her ears—a fire had swept through the forest where the Fox made his home. Concerned for her old friend, the Wolf returned to find the land scorched, the air heavy with ash, and the Fox… not quite himself.”
Maryden’s melody grew heavier, the notes echoing a deep sadness that filled the room.
“When the Wolf asked what had happened, the Fox shrugged and said, ‘It just… happened. Fires like this, they’re part of nature, right?’ But the Wolf, for all her strength, had always been good at reading others. She saw the way the Fox avoided her gaze, the way his clever tongue seemed to trip over itself. She knew there was more to the story.”
Varric paused, letting the weight of the moment settle over the room. Ariana’s chest tightened, her emotions stirring as the parallels between the story and her own life became clearer.
“The truth,” Varric said softly, “was that the Fox had seen who set the fire. They’d even threatened to harm him if he ever spoke the truth. The Fox, for all his cleverness, chose silence—not out of malice, but out of fear. He wanted to protect himself… and maybe, just maybe, he wanted to protect the Wolf, too. But his silence came at a cost.”
Maryden’s lute shifted into a mournful song, her voice joining in with soft, haunting lyrics about lost trust and the weight of secrets. The room seemed to hold its collective breath, the story pulling at their hearts.
“But here’s the thing about wolves,” Varric said, his voice lifting slightly, his usual charm peeking through. “They’re stubborn. And this Wolf, she didn’t give up on the Fox. She stayed, helped rebuild the forest, and reminded him that they were stronger together. Over time, the Fox found his courage again. He told the truth, made amends, and the Wolf forgave him—not because he was perfect, but because he was her friend. Her family.”
Ariana couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They spilled over, though a small, watery laugh escaped her as Varric added, “And let’s face it, who wouldn’t forgive someone as charming as a Fox?”
As the tavern erupted in laughter and cheers, Varric lingered near the hearth, his gaze following Ariana. She stood amidst the crowd, her cheeks still damp with tears but glowing with the warmth of the moment.
When their eyes met, she tilted her head, a subtle invitation. Varric gestured toward the door, and Ariana followed without hesitation, leaving the noise and celebration behind.
Outside, the air was cool, carrying the faint scent of woodsmoke and pine. The quiet was almost startling after the tavern’s lively din. Ariana folded her arms, glancing up at the starry sky. Varric joined her, leaning casually against the stone wall, though his posture betrayed a flicker of unease.
“Pup, I—” Varric began, but again, Ariana didn’t let him finish.
She turned to him, her voice soft but steady. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know.”
Varric chuckled, though it lacked his usual confidence. “Yeah, well, I’m not great at the whole heartfelt apology thing. Figured I’d lean on my strengths—telling stories and making a spectacle of myself.”
Ariana laughed quietly, shaking her head. “You really are something else.” Her fingers brushed over the bracelet on her wrist, her gaze dropping. “When I saw this… I thought you didn’t want it anymore. I thought you—” She stopped, swallowing hard.
“Pup, come on,” Varric said, his voice low and serious now. “I’ve never stopped wearing it. Not once. And yeah, maybe I messed up. I lied to you. But it was never because I didn’t trust you. It was because… I didn’t want to risk losing you.”
Her eyes shimmered as she looked up at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “You won’t lose me, Varric. Ever. But I need you to know… I had already forgiven you. I just—” She hesitated, then added with a faint smile, “I just hadn’t had the chance to tell you yet. Got in a little late last night, and slept most of the day.”
Varric blinked, his mouth opening slightly before he closed it again. Then, with exaggerated disbelief, he said, “Wait… you’re telling me I didn’t need to do all this?” He gestured toward the tavern, his voice pitched higher in mock outrage. “The story, the songs, the whole damn spectacle?”
Ariana shrugged, her lips quirking into a playful smirk. “Well, you didn’t ask. But hey, it’s not every day I get to watch you make a fool of yourself. I wasn’t about to stop you.”
Varric placed a hand over his heart, shaking his head with exaggerated solemnity. “You wound me, Pup. Truly. Here I thought I was pulling out all the stops to make amends, and you were already over it.”
Her laugh was light, genuine, and tinged with affection. “That’s what you get for assuming.”
He chuckled, the tension between them easing as a familiar warmth settled into his expression. “Alright, fine. But don’t get used to it. Big, grand apologies are a one-time thing. Next time, you’re getting a card and maybe a stiff drink.”
Ariana grinned, wiping the lingering tears from her cheeks. “Noted. But for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”
Varric gave her a look, his sharp wit softening into something closer to pride. “Well, it’s like I said—family’s complicated. And you, Pup, are stuck with me.”
She reached for his wrist, carefully fastening the bracelet back into its place. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Varric winked, stepping back toward the tavern. “Come on, Pup. Let’s get back in there before someone drinks all the good wine.”
She lingered for just a moment, watching as he disappeared through the door. Her hand brushed over the silver pendant at her neck, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. Then she followed, ready to rejoin the warmth and camaraderie waiting inside.