A/N - Hello and welcome back! Thank you very much for all the lovely feedback, my reading gamers ;) I look forward to seeing how you feel about this chapter... it's a bit long, but there was just no way to shorten this scene.

Fair warning: this is where the real Inquisition spoilers begin.

Chapter 10

Dance with Me

"Master Haritt says that without more ore, we won't be able to get more blades for the recruits."

"Tell Master Haritt that ore doesn't grow on trees."

"Yes, ma'am. I think he knows, ma'am. He talked about how we have to dig it up." -Master Haritt's messenger and Haven's quartermaster

Traveling across the countryside went a lot faster when there weren't rifts to close, rogue mages and templars to chase, dragons to fend off, or helpless villagers to rescue. They made the trip to the Winter Palace in Halamshiral in only two days. Latest quest: hunt down an assassin at Empress Celene's ball. Blend in, make some new political allies. All while wearing an itchy, stupid, too hot outfit.

"The Lady Sydney, Knight of the Inquisition." The poor announcer seemed almost distraught that there were no following titles, accolades, or stories of origin for her. After having been rushed through Cassandra's noble names, Sydney's simple role scandalized him. The battle against Leliana and Josephine and Cullen to name her otherwise had been intense, but she had won. Trevelyan had helped.

"You are lucky." The princess herself muttered.

Sydney replied just as quietly, "How is that?"

"You don't have a family history that everyone in Thedas can call history." Cassandra complained.

"A perk of being swept away from home by a prophet." She answered glibly and immediately regretted. Actually admitting that Andraste had sent her wasn't supposed to happen, hence why she'd insisted on being named 'Knight of the Inquisition' instead of 'Andraste's Knight.'

"Are you never going to reveal yourself to us, Lady Knight?" There was an equal measure of hope and distrust in Cassandra's voice.

The closest painting became suddenly quite interesting, but just as quickly, Sydney's eyes dropped to the floor. "There'd be no point. As far as this world is concerned, I never existed, and my history would be gibberish to you."

The warrior's mouth moved. She swallowed and looked away. "Oh. Well, that is something to consider."

For Cassandra, that was fairly eloquent.

"Be that as it may, perhaps sharing it with someone might help with your despair."

Eloquence and tact? Soft words weren't associated with Seeker Pentaghast, yet there they were, tumbling from her royal mouth. Sydney almost laughed, instead she almost cried. "I'll keep that in mind, Seeker."

"Cassandra."

"Cassandra." Sydney echoed the offer of friendship. "Only if you call me Sydney."

"Very well." Just like that, friendship was cemented between them. It felt as though she'd found a new playmate in the sandbox, simple, easy, lifelong. Silly, but she had the feeling that with Cassandra, it was heartfelt and true. The warrior shifted uneasily in her restricting finery. "Let us get on with the weary business of this ball. I can't wait to get out of this starched ridiculousness." Her unease set Sydney at ease, and she chuckled.

"Let's get to it then."

A nod, and they parted ways. Finding herself a corner of the ballroom, Sydney watched the courtiers and guests mingle, dance, and pretend not to hate each other. At length, she cursed their ridiculous masks. They didn't hide much, but enough to make her job difficult. Her eyes eventually fell on Leliana, and she stared in awe as the former bard came alive. The woman loved the drama of the court, the intrigue of the Great Game. A gaggle of women cut off her view. Her attention shifted to an idiot with a corset so tight that the woman inside its grip was turning blue. Sydney was all for a corset now and again. The way it could shape a bust, hips, could be delicious. Not getting enough oxygen to even be able to stand? Hell no. That was like wearing a pair of sexy heels until they rubbed bloody gouges in the back of the feet.

Complete turn off.

Sydney liked her heels how she liked her women, beautiful and capable of everyday life. Like Leliana. She threw away the old idea that in her world, Leliana would be a follower of petty reality TV that featured people with nothing better to do than ruin each others lives. No. Leliana would be more of a spy series or political news junkie. Or a silly soap opera follower.

"Lady Nightingale is quite the flower, isn't she?" A courtier hummed in thickly accented Ferelden as he slipped near. "Distractingly beautiful, with a scent quite rare and exotic, standing out even among a garden of the rarest breeds."

"Are you asking to be introduced? I should warn you that even though she might smell like Andraste's Grace, she has more in common with the Blood Lotus." Sydney gave him a sideways glance.

Behind his silver mask, the middle-aged man chuckled. "No. No. I made her acquaintance in years past when she used to play and sing." He faced her fully, his pale green eyes finally visible. "Mentioning the woman you've been watching for the past five minutes was an excuse to make your acquaintance, Lady Knight."

She steeled herself for posturing or flirting or whatever he was about to throw at her.

"I am-" his name and rank blurred together, along with the pleasantries and verbal jousting as he tried to gain favor with Andraste's Knight.

"Ah, Lord Favreau. It has been many years." The silken tones of Leliana's voice broke into the conversation.

Graciously pleasant, the noble greeted her with a mild dip of his neck. With his eyes off of her, Sydney freely stared at the garish amount of jewels decorating his chest. "Lady Nightingale. A pleasure to see you again. I don't suppose that you would honor the court tonight with your voice?"

"I'm afraid not, my lord. I only sing for private audiences now." Leliana declined.

The way the man's eyes shot to Sydney and gave her a fresh look-over, made her wish she'd been watching Leliana instead. What sort of expression or gesture had she missed? Why was the spymaster standing so close, was there danger? "Quite the shame, but at least your voice is not completely lost to the world."

Feeling naked without her sword, though she had a slim dagger stowed under her stiff costume, Sydney looked for signs of the assassin while they continued speaking. Him thanking her for her company and sliding into the crowd surprised her. She looked to Leliana for an explanation. "What was that about?"

Her exposed neck, something Sydney hadn't seen in weeks, was flushed a light pink. Agreeing with the too-warm room, Sydney tugged at her own collar.

"Lord Favreau's taste for exotic flowers is well known. He likes to collect them." Leliana glanced at her, but her attention quickly returned to the crowd. "What did he compare you to? Prophet's Laurel, no? Rare, beautiful, heals even the worst ailments, perhaps broken hearts? The man has been using flowery words, and yes, pun intended, to lure women to his bed for years."

"So, you fell for it once?" Sydney asked, though it gave her an unpleasant mental image.

"I have made many mistakes in my past, but he was not one of them." Her laughter was soft, charming. "His younger brother, on the other hand.."

But Sydney didn't care to hear about former trysts. "What brought you over here, Lady Nightingale? A message from the Inquisitor? Has he figured out who's behind the plot?"

Leliana's smile faltered, and she turned to her with little lines between her eyebrows. "No. No message, not yet."

Had she just wanted to find a new place to stand? "Then why are you talking to me?"

"Would you rather I have left you to deal with him by yourself?" She retorted.

Wait. Did she think she had been rescuing her? "You aren't the only woman who's capable of rejecting someone. Some of us can even do it gracefully." She seethed. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to find a drink."

Almost-panic in a single hushed word caught at her. "Wait." Leliana actually reached out, though her hand didn't make contact. It was drawn back to her side. That would have been highly inappropriate in such esteemed company. Her lip was sucked in, and her eyes flitted around. They were the center of more than few nobles' attention. It wasn't the kind that the former bard would want, not when her position in the Great Game could be affected.

Sydney caught movement at the other end of the ballroom. Trevelyan was trying to sneak away. For the sake of their mission, she didn't leave Leliana standing there. She stayed to gather more attention from their Inquisitor. "What?"

Caught between whatever was roiling behind her stormy eyes, and the rules of propriety, Leliana stuttered. "W-would you dance with me?"

The music was currently slow, the dance a simple one. Sydney could practically hear the gears moving in the spymaster's head. Sydney was a fast learner, she could probably be led through such a simple dance without completely disgracing the Inquisition. She glanced at Trevelyan and gave into the rush of desire to prove Leliana wrong. "I'd be delighted, Lady Nightingale."

Leliana blinked at the confidant reply, swallowed, but turned her hand up and offered to lead. Their feet were on the bottom steps of the stairs, a few yards away from the dance floor when the music changed, grew faster. The dancers changed position. Uncertainty flashed in Leliana's features. "We-"

Wickedly, Sydney gave her a cruel smile, spoke loud enough for others to listen. "I know it's been years since you last danced among the nobility, but surely you haven't forgotten such a simple dance." And the dance that was indicated by the waiting postures was fairly simple, just fast. It could leave lesser dancers flushed and breathless. If played right, could leave them hot. Being among the manipulations of the court had poked at her dark streak. She wanted to make Leliana feel, dammit. Easily, she slid into position, gave a pointed look at a few courtiers eyeing the spot across from her that Leliana was expected to fill.

The woman jumped in as the music began. Floating through the steps, aware of how much easier they were with muscles trained by fighting, Sydney laughed throatily at the look in Leliana's eyes. She brushed a hand along hers while everyone else merely touched knuckles, pushed the boundaries at every step. Intensely, she enjoyed every second of discomposure that flushed across pale cheeks. How like the oddest skill to be useful at such a crucial event. Ballroom dancing.

Her first lesson had been on a date with a woman who hadn't been worth a second. The next year of lessons had been taken because dancing was fun, and an intriguing alternative to modern exercise. It got her a handful of extra cash now and then when she won competitions. When she'd applied for the job on the cruise ship, it had been that extra fluff on the resume that had gotten her employed. The entertainment managers loved that she could step in when the usual dance instructors took ill, or they needed an extra body in a show. She loved that it added an extra ten grand to her annual salary.

"You didn't tell me," accused Leliana when the song ended. Breath hard, face flushed, lip chewed, the woman looked exactly how Sydney wanted her to.

"Why should I have?" Sydney challenged. There was definitely some emotion on Leliana's face, possibly hurt. Good. "Another?"

Again, the music took off, pushing them at a tempo that Sydney didn't have a problem with. This time, however, she wasn't the only one pushing boundaries. More eyes than not were watching them and their shameless display. A searing touch on her abdomen yanked her own eyes back to seas of blue. Within them, a tempest raged and threatened to drown her. By the Void, what had she gotten herself into?

Though Leliana's place had officially been lead in the previous dance, Sydney had effectively stolen it from her by surprising and besting her. This dance, Leliana was clearly in control, a predator on the dance floor, stalking, twisting, taunting. Passion flared between them, infected the rest of the dancers, pushed everyone to dizzying heights. Blood rushed in Sydney's ears, drowning out everything except those eyes, those hips, those hands that left sizzling trails wherever they touched.

She wasn't aware that the music had ended. Her body had stopped when Leliana had. An arms length apart, they panted. Boiling in her core was a hot, wet heat, and it grew only more fierce as she finally saw a crack in Leliana's walls, caught a glimpse of vulnerability. A ripple of noise rushed through the crowd. Leliana's eyes flicked away, widened.

Coming down the steps as the music reverted to a stately procession was Trevelyan, the Grand Duchess on his arm. He caught Sydney's gaze. Recognizing the message in them, she bowed, conceding the battlefield to him and pulled Leliana from the dance floor. "There's something happening."

Leliana pursed her lips. "Of course there is. He's dancing with the Grand Duchess. Oh, and look at them go. Can't you just feel the nobles buzzing?"

Heart still fluttering from their own dance, Sydney's eye roll was only half-hearted. Of course the former bard was more in tune with the Game than Trevelyan's battlefield signal.

"But he's not nearly as good at it as you." There was a light in Leliana's eyes, a smile on her lips. "No one will talk, but it's obvious that you're the one who got our Inquisitor to begin taking Josephine's lessons more seriously. Almost too late, but not quite. Josie and I couldn't believe how bad his dancing was!"

"Yes." The ambassador's voice entered their conversation. "How did you do that? After Crestwood, he came to me and apologized for slacking in his duties. He actually puts his lessons to service now. What happened out there?"

Sydney waved aside their questions. "I didn't do anything."

"Psh. You're a terrible liar. Your strengths are in how you always manage to surprise us." Josephine sighed, then gave Leliana a sideways grin. "How did it feel to dance with someone of your caliber again, Leliana?"

"It was wonderful." She stared into Sydney's gaze. "I will have to ask for a repeat again sometime. Perhaps we can change our morning routine?"

There it was again, that crack of vulnerability. And this time, there was a witness, someone who Leliana also acknowledged as a friend. It gave her actions credibility, smoothed away the doubt that this was a game of the bard. Sydney made to press it, but the courtiers conceding the dance floor to the Inquisitor and his partner distracted her. There was something about the way that woman smiled that she didn't like. She looked...

Triumphant.

And Leliana's expression was falling, closing. Dammit! "Leliana," spilled off her tongue.

Deep blue looked up at her through pale lashes, the pupils large, shocked at the intimate use of her name after so long. It hadn't fallen from Sydney's lips since that night.

"When you ask, I'll dance with you again." Did Josephine just squeal like a girl? More importantly, was Leliana smiling?

"Then I shall have to ask again soon." She was smiling. So was that Duchess, and it infuriated Sydney. Not only was the Duchess drawing her attention away from a smiling Leli, but a whisper in the back of her skull made her itch for her sword. Trevelyan bowed and made a beeline for his advisers. Cullen closed their little group as Josephine was gushing at Trevelyan about how the court would be talking about that dance for months. He had swept the crowd off its feet with that dip!

He managed a small laugh. "It was a refreshing change from fighting demons and horrors."

"You still face demons and horrors. These ones are simply better dressed," was Josephine's apt reply.

"Indeed." He echoed Sydney's groan. She could smell a fight on him, but Cullen beat her with his own question about what had happened in the servants' quarters. Venatori agents, slaughtered servants and guards. Evidence that seemed to point to Gaspard and Briala. The only good bit was that they were now sure the assassination would happen tonight. Debating between saving the empress or letting her die and supporting another was sickening.

Sydney couldn't help the revulsion she felt when Leliana suggested it. Shadows passed over Leliana's face then, and she felt a gulf between them, wider than it had seemed to be only hours ago. Cullen and Trevelyan favored Gaspard as a new leader, given the man's militaristic stance. Josephine wanted the empress. Leliana voted for the elf. All they could agree on was that Orlais needed stability, and the Inquisition needed it as an ally against Corypheus. Trevelyan would have to support someone.

"What about that woman?" Sydney's voice finally entered the discussion.

"The duchess?" Asked Josephine. She started to mention what the woman could be like as empress, but Sydney waved it off.

"No. Lord Trevelyan, how did she behave? Could she be behind the assassination?"

Too knowledgeable, arrogant, dispassionate about the deaths in the palace. Typical Orlesian royalty, he summed up.

"You didn't get bad vibes off her?" She pressed. Both of their eyes found the woman on the other side of the hall, talking with her brother Gaspard.

"I did, but..." Trevelyan settled his regard on her. "You have a bad feeling, don't you?"

"Yea," she breathed.

"Cullen, get your soldiers into position. I'm going to check out the Royal Wing as dear Florianne suggested." He hadn't taken his sight off Sydney. "We don't need the disruption that a change in leadership would start, and Corypheus wants the empress dead. Those are good enough reasons to protect her." He paused. "And send someone with Lady Sydney's sword."

The enormity of what was happening settled on Sydney's shoulders. Oh hell. People were shaping empires based on her hunches now! She felt her insides crumbling under that weight as the men took off.

A hand touched her shoulder, behind it was compassion. Leliana spoke gently. "The burden of lives is a heavy one."

"Yea." Dark violet skirts drifted by, caught her attention. She gave them a brief glance, then a sharp double take. Above them was a confident smirk, framed by midnight black hair, and accented with golden eyes. The figure was a familiar, wild witch. "Morrigan," puffed from her throat.

As though she could hear from thirty feet away, the enigmatic mage turned. A smile, toothy as a wolf's, appeared, and the woman glided toward them. She gave Sydney a cursory inspection, shifted it to her former companion. "Leliana."

"Morrigan."

Between the women, there wasn't an ounce of warmth, nostalgia, anything resembling friendship. Leliana's tone and posture was as relaxed and courteous as it had been all evening, but Sydney didn't believe it. Farther down the room, Josephine's wide eyes caught hers. For a brief moment, the ambassador looked ready to abandon her conversation with important looking people, but she smiled and returned to talking. So, Morrigan and Leliana didn't even interact at all.

Wishing she'd played the Witch Hunt DLC, Sydney found questions sprouting in her head. Did Morrigan have a child? What kind of person did the Blight shape her into? Was she an enemy? An ally? A dangerous wildcard like her mother, Flemeth? She opened herself to any suggestions from Andraste, but the whispers were silent.

Morrigan wasn't a threat. Not for the moment, at least. Sydney withdrew from her mind to find cat eyes staring at her. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood. Not a threat, but very, very unnerving.

"The Orlesian court looks to have been treating you well, Morrigan." When had Leliana stepped closer?

If anything, the gleam in her eyes grew more wicked. Mockery and scorn grew thicker with every word. "True enough. I cannot say the same for you. How ever did they get you into something so dreadful? Those colors are all wrong for you. And those shoes! Did you let Alistair have a say in this wardrobe?"

"You are as delightful as ever. How is your son? Has he grown horns, scales, wings perhaps?"

There was the answer to the god-kid question. "Sadly, no. How disappointed you must be."

Their bickering went on, and Sydney was enraptured. Their tongues were brutal, ripping each other apart, preying on anything and everything they knew of each other. Leliana's frame grew increasingly strained while Morrigan's remained as much like a hawk eyeing a mouse. Courtier whispers shifted around them, discussing and wagering on the former Warden's companions.

"Like sisters."

Chuckles bubbled out of Sydney. Andraste or a noble's whisper? Shrugging, she didn't care and allowed her smile to linger. She earned the ladies' regard, but it was interrupted by an approaching noble, spouting something about the unworthiness of the Inquisition's famous Nightingale.

As easily as Morrigan ripped into Leliana, she dissected the noble, sending them scurrying away, tail between their legs. The gleam in her eyes had changed when she turned back to Leliana. "There are days when I almost miss our vibrant conversations."

Leliana's brow rose.

Morrigan finally spoke to Sydney. "You are the one they are calling Andraste's Knight."

On a whim, Sydney challenged herself to irritate Morrigan. It shouldn't be too hard. She smiled like she had a secret, which, to be fair, she had a few. "Oh my, you do have Orlesian manners."

The grin shifted. "'Tis an eventuality of survival in the Orlesian court."

"Is this the part where you tell me about your fortunes and power and ask me to lie between your legs?" Sydney canted her head. "I'll pre-empt you, and say I'm already intrigued about the great wilds, but I won't remember your name or favors promised in the morning."

Leliana made a choking noise.

Morrigan stared.

Sydney struggled with her composure.

"The quality of your company has improved, Leliana." The witch surprised them both.

Despite failing her private challenge, it was little effort to pull a smirk.

"Andraste's blessing," was Leliana's reply.

An Inquisition soldier chose that moment to appear, scattering nobles and starting excited murmurs. The soldier stopped in front of Sydney. Gingerly, a gauntlet was gripping her sword belt, sheathed sword dangling from it. "Lady Knight." And saluted when she accepted her weapon.

"Thank you." She fastened the belt and at a buzz in the back of her skull, gripped the sword's hilt, loosened the blade in its scabbard.

Her peripherals caught Morrigan's eyes growing wide with interest, and Leliana's hand slipping into her coat.

"If you would indulge me, I would very much like to study that sword later." Curiosity, greed, awe. They mingled in the witch's tone.

Leliana's lips thinned. "Sydney? Where is the danger?"

The Grand Duchess appeared from a shadow, her brother Gaspard at her side. They made Sydney's skin itch, but the sense of danger was broader than the siblings. She swiveled, every muscle taut, her senses on high alert. The ballroom carried on with its festivities, the empress dandied with her nobles, and the siblings meandered toward her.

"Everywhere, dammit."

"I sense powerful magic at work. There is a battle somewhere in the palace," offered Morrigan.

The prickling became familiar. "A rift," hissed out of Sydney.

"You can sense it?" Morrigan demanded.

It stopped. "Trevelyan has it sealed now." While Morrigan stared at her, and Leliana rearranged her pleasant mask, Sydney relaxed her body, forced her hand away from her sword. They waited in silence.

Dorian paraded into the ballroom, followed by Trevelyan, Varric, and Cassandra. There was blood on them. They'd made a dozen feet before Cullen was at the Inquisitor, demanding information and orders.

"Wait here, Cullen, I'm going to have a word with the Grand Duchess." The Inquisitor said.

Unhappily, Cullen balked. "What? There's no time! The empress will begin her speech any moment!"

While Trevelyan strolled toward Florianne, the others fanned out, Dorian sidled up to them. "Ah, Lady Morrigan. I've heard quite a bit about you."

"Likely much the same as I've heard about Tevinter magisters, Altus Dorian Pavus."

Chuckling, Dorian smiled. "Probably." He turned to the three advisers who now ringed Sydney. "The little cousin is working for Corypheus."

"What happe-" Cullen stopped himself.

Across the ballroom, walking up the steps to the Grand Duchess and her brother, Trevelyan's voice reached them. "When your archers failed to kill me in the garden, I feared you wouldn't save me this dance."

Scandalized mutters rippled through the court. Standing just above the show, Empress Celene went a little rigid. Her younger cousin looked decidedly uneasy.

"It's so easy to lose your good graces. You even framed your brother for the murder of the council emissary."

Ooh. The Inquisitor was digging into the girl.

"It was an ambitious plan. Celene, Gaspard, the entire Council of Heralds... All your enemies under one roof."

"This is very entertaining," stammered Florianne. "But you do not imagine that anyone believes your wild stories?" Her wild gaze swept the ballroom. No one seemed much interested in allying themselves with a possible traitor.

Sydney's feet were drawing her toward the empress, who bit out, "That will be a matter for a judge to decide, cousin."

Turning to her last resort, "Gaspard? You cannot believe this. You know I would never..." He was already shaking his head and distancing himself from her.

"Gaspard?"

"You lost this fight ages ago, Your Grace. You're just the last to find out." Sneering, Trevelyan nodded for the Empress' guards to take the blubbering Florianne away. The sobs abruptly stopped, and one of the guards burbled up blood. Florianne's dagger opened the other's throat just as quickly, and the woman leapt up the stairs.

"Now!" She yelled into the crowd.

Puffs of smoke hissed, and Imperial soldiers fell to the blades of harlequins bearing eerie masks and deadly blades.

"For Corypheus, kill them all!" Another guard fell to her blade. She was within striking distance of the empress.

Blind her, Sydney willed her flames. A wall of white flared between the cousins, gave Sydney enough time to replace it with herself, sword ready. Livid, Florianne hurled curses at Sydney, then threw herself toward the garden doors, Trevelyan hot on her heels.

"Cullen, defend the people!"

"Yes, Inquisitor!" Cullen gestured, and Inquisition officers leapt to order their soldiers into the fray. Courtiers scrambled to put their backs to the walls, get as far from the swinging blades as possible. Not all of them made it.

"Why did you not kill her?" From behind the safety of Sydney's back, the empress demanded.

"Flames spread, your majesty." As she was joined by more guards and Morrigan, who raised a magical shield around herself and the empress, she added. "It would have been a shame if they burned more than your cousin."

"Your control over them is finite then?" Prodded the witch.

Quietly, "Everything has its limits." She met the witch's eye. "And price."

Golden eyes fixated on the runes. "A magical blade that draws its power from a non-mage. Fascinating."

Sydney resisted a sarcastic reply about things that fascinated witches. She let her focus stray, to find Leliana. Daggers flashing, the spymaster was defending herself and Josephine. Elegant deaths were delivered to any who thought to try their luck. Leliana danced to a music all her own, and Sydney was caught up in it all over again. Nearby movement demanded her attention. The arrow burned white midair, as did its fellow, and the four after that.

A blade opened the archer's chest, and Cullen nodded at Sydney from behind it. Bolts of lightning sizzled in the garden. They looked like Dorian's work, and the man in question swaggered in a few minutes later. Alongside him, Varric and Cassandra entered, sweating, more blood staining their ballroom finery. Trevelyan came last, and he took in the ballroom with weary eyes.

"It is finished. The Grand Duchess and her followers are dead."

Inquisition soldiers saluted, dead bodies leaked, and nobles fumbled. The Inquisitor turned to the empress, who was still safely behind Sydney. The sheen of Morrigan's shield vanished, and Celene stepped forward. "Inquisitor. I must thank you for..." Slippery words, carefully crafted to gain favor with powerful people and condemn the actions of her own family spewed from the empress. With less than half an ear, Sydney listened to her, then Trevelyan, make speeches about overcoming evil, Corypheus, blah blah blah.

Her eyes were on Leliana, tracing the blood spatters, smiling in relief when she decided that little or none of it was hers. Josephine caught her staring and nudged Leliana. The spymaster shifted her gaze from the pair of leaders to Sydney. Her expression rippled. If Sydney wasn't so well practiced at studying Leliana's face, she would have missed it. But she was, and she hadn't.

Leliana had smiled. Sydney decided to count the night as a complete victory.

Take careful note of the words not being said, the insinuations of Empress Celene's careful speech. Watch the nobles, remember who frowned when and at what. Remember to... Leliana wanted to slap herself, chain her eyeballs to her work. They kept drifting back to Sydney, standing so poised, triumphant, dashing. Not a single member of the Inquisition was among them without crimson stains across faces, sashes, and boots. Even Josie, though she had sheltered behind Leliana, and Dorian, who always took exceptional care to avoid spatter, had not escaped the bloodshed.

Sydney stood, proud and clean, despite her momentous role in the evening's events. It was too much for Leliana. Thinking of the light-footed Sydney as they'd danced, the cocky woman who parried words with the witch Morrigan, the proud warrior routing Florianne's attempt on Celene...

"Careful, Leliana. Eyes are starting to notice where yours keep drifting." A mere whisper, Josephine's warning poked her. "Today's hero is the Inquisitor, not the lovely Sydney."

She favored her old friend with a purse of her lips. "Yes, Josie. I'm quite aware."

"Then perhaps you should remind your eyes of that."

Mentally growling, Leliana noted that her eyes weren't the only part of her that needed reminding of what was best for the Inquisition.