That's enough to make Alistair sit up, open his eyes, and insist on Zevran looking him in the face. "I won't let it," he says. That isn't his to promise—it's too big, the mark on Zevran's hand is too strange, he might not live long himself—but he does, anyway, because he cares too much and too stubbornly to admit it isn't possible. "Zev."

He chews the inside of his mouth for a moment, then lies down, head and shoulders beyond Zevran's back but a heavy arm sliding around his waist so he can't just slip away if Alistair dozes.

"If you want to go, you should go. But stay with me for a few minutes."