Anders: So, there must be mages in Tevinter that don't use blood magic. Fenris: Of course. There are slaves. The magisters do not hesitate to collar their own kind. --- Or, the one where Danarius finds out about the blood magic ritual his long time enemy Halward Pavus is planning and things go even worse for Dorian.

That night he lies in bed alone until the moon is high. When the rest of the house is deathly silent, except for the light snores coming from behind every door, he sneaks in slippered feet through the halls and over to the covered kitchens. There’s faint light coming from the smoldering hearth, where the coals are piled to keep them warm for tomorrow’s early start. Someone has curled up by it on a mat, like a scullery maid. But it’s not a maid, it’s a man. A tall long-legged man. His husband. The dubiously immortal master of Changming manor. What the fuck, Xie thinks.