They needed Wynne. Or - anyone. Cooler heads prevailed when legs found themselves cracked open by enchanted traps, and Briar had a temper both indomitable and presently a hinderance. She needed her hands to stop shaking and for Alistair's brow to stop sweltering.

"If you didn't tell me then it was the fever."

With a sharp tug she set the bandages around his leg then pressed the flat of her palm against the space between Alistair's shoulder. Enough pressure that it wouldn't hurt but leave him little choice but to ease the weight off his shoulders and against her lap. She wasn't good at this - Alistair wore his heart on his sleeve while all she had given anyone lately is anger. The words didn't come as easily as she wanted.

And people called Alistair obtuse.

"I- Sorry."

Whether she apologized for her rough manner or slow approach to affection was unclear. With one hand she drew slow circles on Alistair's temple with chapped, cool skin of her knuckles while her other hand dipped a cloth into a basin of water, wringing it out to dab at his brow.

"But if I have such sway then maybe I can command you to rest."