[He snorts, for oh, yes, he knows what Astarion means. Bloody parties weren't the norm in Tevinter by any means, but in certain circles, on certain days? Oh, it could be awful. Blood magic performed with a wink and a nudge, veins pricked and lives lost for nothing more than whim and demonstration of power. And they all of them would gasp and fawn and, secretly, plot how to outdo the host in question, for Tevinter is nothing if not an endless sea of backstabbing sycophants.]

Ah, but to be able to flaunt repercussions . . . I will not call it clever, but I can understand the jealousy and the desire. Even Danarius would be wary where and when he performed blood magic— for he was not so powerful he could flaunt all the rules.

[But Astarion's master was . . . hm.]

People are petty and dull, and easily impressed by the most foolish displays, I have learned.

Did they fawn out of fear, or because they wished to get close enough to steal his secrets?