As little as Ordhan ever spoke, and as guarded as his words may be, one could always take what he said for certainty. So it was that Lillian would know that the concession was as good as any knight's oath when he gave it. Though the promise itself was a small thing, a mere delay in duty, it left the door open wide for even more disloyal wonderings and undutiful investigations. Never before had Ordhan found himself between the choice of doing something right and doing something dutiful--they had always been one and the same, to him, with his rejection of both on one side of the Battle of Denerim, and his embracing both ever since. Though Ordhan was certain, hypothetically, what his choice would be between the two were he forced to it, he quailed at the prospect of making that choice. He was not so foolish as to think his place in life would be certain after the decision--Conlan's ill-fated life was proof enough of that--but it had been long since cowardice had dictated his decisions.
Her surprise was not unexpected, but his eyes went round when she embraced him; though she did not see it, the corner of his mouth lifted in what might have been the beginning of a smile. Though his spirits were lifted by her thanks, he was unsure how to respond to them, and let the moment pass in warm silence.
"We had best return to camp," he said after the pause. "Unless you wished some time to yourself?" He was well aware that he had intruded, and though she was simply doing chores when he had, she might have been hoping for time away from the noise of camp.