“From this day forth, you are a Grey Warden.”
The blood is nearly black in the goblet, reflecting a distorted image of her face back at her. There’s some form of symbolism in that, she thinks, with a tinge of bitterness.
She glances at Daveth’s prone form, his face twisted in agony, and wonders if she will survive this. Some part of her, still back in the pantry with her parents, hopes that she doesn’t.