"My people have our ways. Corrupted is corrupted, people go to sleep and never wake up all the time, no one questions it." It doesn't take an augur or an assassin to know how to do it. If Asher had thought he could've gotten away with it? If the rest of the Boneflayers hadn't been dealing with bandits or bounties in and around Ferelden? One woman's judgement in a city already gone mad still supposedly saves his neck again when he lit the match to set half the world on fire.

Part of him hasn't forgiven Kaisa for giving him that look that said he was only angry because it was personal as if he had no right to be hurting. That dangerous black mood of his that earned him the nickname where his hand had curled into a fist, the world red at the edges, whispers in his ears of how easy it would be to make her stop talking. But then Asher wouldn't be any better than an abomination so he got his head screwed on straight.

Not that the clarity is helping now.

"I'm going to be saying some prayers at my part of the camp, I'll add some for you. This high up and the Lady of the Skies won't have to listen hard to hear me."