While his attention had been consumed by dealing with the Grand Duke, the Herald had gone to Redcliffe and made contact with Fiona, the Grand Enchanter.

Former Grand Enchanter.

"Redcliffe has been taken over by magisters?" He paced the war room. "How could this have happened without our knowing it?"

Leliana and Josephine exchanged glances. Had they used Gaspard as a distraction to get him out of the way while they guided the Herald to Redcliffe?

"He seemed to have come from nowhere," Leliana admitted. "We had no warning. I have no information on this… Alexius. My agents are even now scrambling to gather more."

"This changes everything," he growled. "And why did the Herald go to meet Fiona? I thought we had not made a decision on our next move yet. Was this your influence, spymaster? You've always had a soft spot for the mage's cause."

"We should discuss this with the Herald when she returns," Josephine said before Leliana could reply. "This was her decision. She will be back in Haven in a few days."

"And she has recruited the Grey Warden," Leliana added. "A man named Blackwall. He seems… a good man."

Cullen would not be mollified by this bit of good news. "Magisters in Ferelden — it's practically an invasion."

"It is deeply troubling," Josephine said.

"And who is Dorian Pavus? Can we trust a Tevinter mage?"

"No one is suggesting we trust him," Leliana said, clearly a bit nettled. "However, what other reason would he have to warn us off Alexius? Even if he plays his his own hand, he could play into ours."

"This Tevinter cult he mentioned bears investigation," Josephine said. "The Venatori. I have asked my contacts about it. Commander, you should know that we have received a letter from Alexius asking for a meeting with the Herald. If we refuse, there may be repercussions."

"Enough talk," he snapped. "Alert me the instant she returns." He strode out of the room.

Maker. He hadn't been this angry in quite a while. He could blame some of the turmoil on the lyrium addiction — the symptoms were worse when he overworked himself — but he had to admit there was a significant dose of fear mixed in with his fury. He had always managed his fear well. That was one of the first things you learned to do, as a leader of troops whom you have to send to their deaths. Fear was healthy. It kept you from overconfidence. It moderated your rage. It reminded you that people were fragile.

But when the fear gnawed like a hungry beast, eating your insides, then it could pollute your ability to make decisions.

He shouldn't have treated Josephine and Leliana so curtly. That sort of uncontrolled outburst was beneath him. He'd go back and apologize.

He entered his tent and sat on his bedroll. All energy seemed to drain from him in an instant. Tomorrow. He'd apologize tomorrow. He pulled out the box of lyrium vials he kept nearby, just in case.

Why hadn't he thrown them out? Because he was afraid he would need them again. That was his worst fear. That he would return to the man he used to be. Leashed by lyrium, ruled by fear.

If only Cassandra were here. He could talk to her. He could ask her if he seemed… if he were still fit to lead.

He didn't know anymore.

#

Two days later, the Herald returned, along with the Grey Warden.

This time, Cullen went to go meet her as she rode in.

She sat hunched on her horse, her cloak wrapped tight around her. A dusting of snowflakes crystalized in the hair that spilled from her hood. In spite of her obvious misery, she flashed him a wan smile.

"You are certainly a sight for sore eyes, Commander," she said. "You can help me off my horse. I'm afraid I—"

"She is ill," said Cassandra brusquely. "I told you we should have returned sooner."

He held out his hands to help her down and she all but tumbled into them. The horse whinnied anxiously until Cassandra hushed her.

He touched her forehead, which burned. "Solas, you couldn't do anything? She's hot as an oven!"

The elf stood apart from the others, as usual. "I have eased her pain," he said. "But some illnesses simply take their course. She will recover, with proper rest."

"Come on, Herald, let's get you into a hot bath," Varric said.

"Are you suggesting I smell bad?" She began walking to her cabin. Everyone followed her, a step behind.

"Well, now that you mention it..." Varric grinned, but Cullen could see that he was worried.

The Herald turned to them. "Stop hovering about like anxious Chantry sisters! I'm fine. I'm just a little tired, that's all." She glanced at Cullen. "Did you want to speak to me?"

Cassandra threw him a glare. "No doubt it can wait."

Trevelyan smiled. "I'm not sure it can. See how he struggles to keep his lecture in check? I know what you're going to say, Commander—"

They'd reached the door of her quarters. Cassandra opened it and hustled her inside.

"I'll return when you are feeling better," he said.

"That would be good." Trevelyan's voice was faint.

Cassandra shut the door in his face.

#

The Herald sent him word that she was ready to speak to him some time after dinner. He hesitated. For her sake, he considered telling her to sleep, and they would talk tomorrow. But something made him throw on his cloak and go over.

She looked much better. She sat on her bed with a dry wool cape flung over her shoulders and a steaming mug in her hands. Her smile had a touch of wariness to it.

"I know what you're going to say, Commander. You didn't want me to go to Redcliffe."

He ran a hand through his hair. He'd been so angry earlier. Then he'd channeled that into words he would say to her. How disappointed he was that she hadn't consulted her advisors. That tactical decisions, in particular, needed to be run past him. If she'd come and spoken to him, he could have…but it didn't matter. His anger had deflated entirely now. He pulled up a chair and sat across from her. "I am disappointed that you chose to act without consulting us, that's true. We're team, Herald."

"I… You're right." She stared down at the mug in her hands.

He smiled. "Did I just hear the Herald admit she was wrong?"

She made a face. "Don't get used to it." Then she turned serious again. "It was impulsive of me to go to Redcliffe, I'll grant you. I was right there, and I... I thought I could take care of it quickly. I hadn't counted on Alexius. But now - we can't just leave those mages in servitude to a Tevinter magister! It's wrong." She looked fiercely at him.

"Fiona chose her own path."

"Because she felt she had no choice! Cullen, we have to help them. Confront Alexius. Isn't this what we do? Isn't this precisely what the Inquisition stands for?"

"Yes; but not at the cost of destroying ourselves."

"So we should just do nothing and let the Breach destroy us all?"

"That's not what I—" He caught himself. He didn't want to get into an argument with the Herald. More gently, he said, "We must act, but we must be tactical. The magisters may be just as dangerous as the Breach, in their own way."

"But we'll have help. Dorian Pavus knows Alexius. He worked with him. That could be just the advantage we need."

"Or we could approach the Templars."

She shook her head. "I trust them less than the mages."

That hurt. Part of him was still entangled in his former life as a Templar, he supposed. Would he ever be able to leave it behind?

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly and touched his arm for a brief instant. "That must have sounded as though I don't trust you. I do."

A tiny spot on his forearm was still warm where her fingers had pressed it. She had less reason to trust him that she realized. The addiction buzzed in his head. What if it impaired his judgement? Perhaps she was right not to trust him. He couldn't even trust himself.

He stood up. "I should let you rest. We can continue this tomorrow. We should hear what Leliana and Josephine have to say."

"Yes," she said. "Of course. Thank you for coming, Commander."

He shut the door firmly behind him.