Northstar Vale das gericht

something was afoot with andraste. she was reticent even in her grace; she was retiring even in her invite. so that was how deep their last meet had cut, mahler thought even as he let a wan smile flower to life on his lips. "i vould velcome a promenade."
strange, the pall that had been thrown over them like a tombveil. it muted the great heat that once leapt amid general and may queen, banking it down into embers that stirred only with a familiar warmth.
were they lovers still? had he ruined the promise with his adherence to practicality? but that was not the true reason, surely, for she was a woman in whom love thrummed around every fibre of her being — and he was a cur unable to return such a largesse of spirit.
"have you been vell?" mahler murmured softly, flanking andraste when she had presumably stepped off to set their scenic course through the snow-draped vale. her sentinels, did they watch even now? he wondered, steeling himself against glancing upward the towpaths that led into the silence of the high ridges.