The Sentinels beauty means the scent of roses, and then the death of roses

deirdre found she knew little of skellige's people. she knew some of his brother, and little of leokadia--doe she thought of fondly, and arturo seemed to be a good man. but as for the others, deirdre did not know them! still, she knew comparitively, skellige and the wolves he led were not like others she knew--but she loved him all the same.

as he mentioned neverwinter, she looked to him. it would be foolish to ask if he missed them--of course he would, for they were his family! deirdre could not imagine being taken from donnelaith, nor did she wish to. but that was what rannoch presently endured, and so for him she attempted to. it was uncomfortable, and deirdre tore her gaze from him. how could one trust another after such a thing...? and yet, he seemed to trust her! the thought warmed her, and she looked back to him.

if only things had happened a different way--though perhaps one day, you will be given an opportunity to choose for yourself, to stay, or to go! skellige saw something in you. to you i know it must feel like a curse, to be taken by a man as beastly as skellige, to be tossed into the sea without knowing a hint as to why... but it is a blessing. i hope there will come a time that you can see this as clearly as i do, deirdre paused for a moment and looked thoughtful. i do not mean to condone his taking you as he did. i only mean to say... that all things that occur, occur for a reason. i look at you, and feel that this reason can only serve you in the end. deirdre quieted, though it seemed her voice sang on and on in the whispering of the trees. the melody of the forest played around them in the beating of birdwings and the chitter of chipmunk and squirrel alike, preparing for their late autumnal hibernation.