"We don't have one, so I suppose you'd better leave."

He stops short enough that he almost seems to trip, but catches himself. Alistair's glare doesn't wound him; it's a look he knows he's earned, though some part of him had wondered if the intervening years might have tempered some of the young man's rage. Clearly, they have not, though they have changed him in so many other ways. The resemblance to Maric has faded, but shades of it are still there to Loghain's eyes; his throat constricts painfully.

"Alistair," he says evenly, and regards him with subdued caution. Well, Teren had warned him.