we're gonna be late for our certain deaths.

In private, she carries herself with more command than she’s ever shown when prodded onto the dais, a confidence present that they so often strip her bare of, especially here. So he finds it difficult to protest being made the prey of her humor when she takes the book out of his grasp — fingers mindful to keep his pages without curling the parchment — and lays claim to half his perch. “But if you insist this has to be done, I offer a compromise.“ Curiosity begets concession. His shoulders sag in permission, and it earns him a broad smile while she settles in upon her spoils of conquest, and a pair of legs hook gently over his knees. "I can read it to you.”

“You? Do the Dalish teach their warriors to navigate magical treatises now?” There are no makings of a fight in his tone, only the tint of laughter, a shade of disbelief.

Glib indignation crosses her features, furrowing her brow and crumpling her nose. “Need I remind you I was raised in part by the Second of our clan.” A vaunted claim, the sort a penniless noble blundering forward, holding their exalted lineage aloft, might make; the kind she’s endured more than once from humans who still dance around nearly calling her ‘rabbit’. The affected quality fades away quickly, leaving something vastly more earnest, “I might not be able to start the fire myself, but I can grasp how it’s kindled.”

“Have faith that I’m good for more than stopping a fool with a sword from charging you.” He opens his mouth for a rebuttal, something certain to derail her actions and color her face scarlet if the glint to his eyes is a proper sign, but it dies promptly, executed by an overly animated, pointed clearing of her throat; a flattering impression of a guest she’s been stuck to for the better part of the day, no doubt. “Which paragraph?”

“The sixth,” he answers, low, while shifting her nearer to him. Getting closer is a terrible idea. And a terribly familiar idea.

Her confidence falters once her eyes have scanned the pages twice. Her first glance certain of deception, and her second confirming the misstep. The third is turned on him and is one of pure surprise. It’s answered by a chuckle, a smirk, and the appearance of a second, smaller tome from his side.

“Tell me then, when did you find the time to learn Tevene…?”

She employs the entirety of what she’s learned from Dorian losing at cards then, while he presses a kiss to her temple.