CHAPTER 14 – Perfume and Poison
Late that afternoon as the meeting Cullen had been forced to sit through ended, Josephine announced delightedly that there would be entertainment in the main hall after dinner, including informal performances, music, and dancing. Before he could escape after the meeting, Leliana cornered Cullen and firmly but politely made it clear that he and Rylen were both expected to attend. She grinned wickedly at his sour expression, then added, "At least you're allowed to wear armor and stay on the sidelines, Commander. Surana has been informed she will attend properly attired for court and dance for at least part of the evening. And not just with old Bann Sighard." She watched him until it sank in and he began rubbing his neck uncomfortably. "I will see you this evening, Commander," and the red-head walked away with a smirk.
Predictably, Cullen and Rylen arrived together and found a defensive post on a bench along one wall, well away from the dais at the end. They sat nursing mugs of weak ale as the musicians tuned their instruments talking in low tones about the day's business while they tried to stay unnoticed. Leliana's remarks about Surana had teased Cullen even as he realized she had intended it to, but he tried not to watch for the mage overtly. He had no great faith in his own subtlety though, and hoped no one was watching him as they chatted. Then Surana and Timur stepped into view around a knot of Orlesian nobles who were gossiping nearby, her face lighting up in relief as she saw them, and they politely rose to greet her as the cloying perfume of the Orlesians trailed after her.
Her dress was a simpler version of one of the current fashions of the Orlesian court, done in imitation of a Grey Warden's colors. The overskirt was made from a silver-and-white subdued silk brocade which parted in front to reveal a smoky sapphire underskirt of heavy satin. Both were a little shorter than the current fashion and while full enough for movement, they were not elaborately built over a frame or stiffened with underskirts like many that forced everyone to navigate around their fashionable wearer. The high-necked bodice of a matching blue trimmed with embroidered bands in subtle silver patterns was snugly tailored, yet somehow seemed to blur rather than accent her shape. By contrast, the short capped sleeves revealed the warm brown of thin arms crossed with jagged lines of scars that echoed those Cullen knew were concealed by the short blue silk glove he saw on the left hand resting on Timur's head.
When he saw the scars on her arms, Cullen's eyes sought hers questioningly only to be arrested by the discovery that the blue collar framing her face had transformed her steely bluish-grey eyes into a softer pale smoky blue. While he might know little about women's clothing, he had the oddest feeling that she had obstinately chosen a dress that concealed what most women of court displayed and revealed what others might have concealed, particularly emphasizing her differences as an elf. He thought that the dress was meant to be dismissed as a rather uninspired, even drab, court adaptation of a Grey Warden's livery to anyone who did not meet her eyes, but once he had, he suddenly hoped he'd never see her in another dress. How had he never noticed just how…accepting her eyes could be? How could a dress transform them from ice to fire?
Beside him, Rylen seemed oblivious to Cullen's reaction as he began to chuckle with a rumble that started deep inside him. "By Andraste, Surana, you not only do own a dress, but you managed to get someone to sew it over leather armor!"
Cullen suddenly understood just why the dress seemed both fitted but formless. Even when he realized that Surana expected his eyes to drop to confirm what Rylen had noticed, he resolutely kept his on the mage's, though he honestly had no wish to look away from those warm eyes. He saw a flicker of surprise in her eyes before she grinned cockily at Rylen, chin slightly thrust out. "Why not? I'm here as a Grey Warden, not as a noble." Her eyes dropped to her scarred right arm and glove-covered hand that rested on the pommel of her sword, then she shrugged. "It doesn't hurt to remind them that I don't usually spend my time being showered with flowers and posing for the court." Smokey blue eyes met amber again, now a little uncertainly, and he felt something inside him tighten in response.
"Good! And that blue is rather nice, don't you think, Commander?"
"Lovely." The word slipped out without thinking, then Cullen blinked. "I mean, um, I really like that shade of blue, Warden-Commander."
At that moment, Teryn Fergus stepped past the knot of Orlesians who were gossiping quietly a few feet away, and a wide smile lit his face as he saw them. "Ah, there you are!" When he was close enough, he took Surana's right hand gracefully and kissed it briefly, a look of pure mischief in his eyes as he bent over her hand with a very faint whiff of a much lighter scent than the Orlesians' perfumes. "My dear Warden-Commander, it is always a delight when you grace us, but I must say your ability to use clothing as a weapon has not diminished in the least. Has the Divine-elect seen what you're wearing yet?" Surana snorted softly as she drew her hand free.
"And I see your talent for not actually saying anything is as charming as ever, your lordship."
The Teryn straightened and offered his hand to Timur in greeting before bowing slightly to the two men. "Timur, gentlemen, it's good to see you. I must say the Inquisition's ambassador is amazingly organized to have put something like this together in such a short time."
Despite the flashes of the courtier, or at least the veneer of one, when he spoke to Surana, Cullen found something about the noble refreshingly open and direct, even likeable. "Knowing Lady Josephine, I would guess she had planned for a dozen possibilities for tonight and simply put the appropriate plans in motion once she actually met their majesties."
"All the while making it look effortless." Fergus glanced down the room toward the slight dais where the Inquisitor's throne had been replaced with several elegant chairs, each in front of a banner with the arms of Ferelden, the Inquisition, or the Chantry. The Inquisitor's chair was a bit taller than the others with a small step stool which put her head was on a level with Anora and Alistair on either side of her. "She already has quite the reputation as a diplomat. Your Inquisitor is more unexpected, however; I'm not certain even Anora knows quite what to make of her yet."
Just at that moment, Maryden and the musicians Josephine had engaged struck the first notes of a dance tune, one definitely more Ferelden in its liveliness than the Orlesians favored. Fergus turned back to the group and raised an eyebrow at Surana who suddenly was displaying a trace of that slightly mulish obstinance from this morning. "I assume you have orders to make a proper appearance?" He chuckled at her tart, impolite response then inclined his head at Cullen and Rylen. "Gentlemen, it seems only fair to offer you the chance to ask the Warden-Commander to dance first since you were here when I arrived?"
"Not unless you want us to disgrace the Inquisition since neither of us know a step of the dances." Rylen spoke first, and Surana didn't quite meet Cullen's eyes again when he remained silent.
"In that case, since I also have my orders…Warden-Commander?" He half-bowed, offering his arm gracefully to Surana who hesitated just long enough to stroke Timur's head.
"Commander, Knight-Captain, would you mind keeping Timur company? Somehow I don't think Lady Josephine would appreciate him tripping the dancers."
"Of course." This time Cullen spoke first and her eyes met his again briefly with a flash of gratitude, then she was taking the arm Fergus offered, eyes turned away.
"I hope you wore your heavy boots, or have you forgotten what a terrible dancer I am?"
As he led her out to join the small number of couples, the two men heard the Teryn laugh. "My dear Warden-Commander, you don't weigh enough for me to even feel you stepping on my feet."
Timur made a noise very like a snort, then slowly walked to the bench the two men had occupied before Surana's arrival. Taking this as something of a royal command, Cullen and Rylen resumed their seats. Timur promptly put his head in Cullen's lap in a now-familiar bid for attention, eyes on the middle of the room where Fergus was expertly guiding Surana through the steps as if he had a great deal of experience at keeping a partner's sword from catching on anyone else's clothing. Then again, he was Ferelden, perhaps he did. The two men sat in silence, Cullen too distracted by his strong reaction to Surana to notice that Rylen was glancing at him from time to time with just the trace of a speculative smile. Then faintly affronted words floated from the other side of the nearby knot of Orlesians.
"Is that really the Teryn dancing in public with an elf? I knew Fereldens were uncouth, but do they really dance with their trollops?"
Another voice answered, feigning boredom. "Take another look at his partner, my dear. That's the Hero of Ferelden."
A third, male voice, fashionably caustic, drifted from their direction. "It's hard to recognize her without that smelly beast who trails around after her! The teryn? Is that why the bitch is so cold; she's already whoring for a Ferelden noble? He could at least have bought his slut something better than that dreadful dress."
Cullen went rigid, but before he could move, Timur had his hand between his jaws, holding it gently but firmly, eyes fixed on the ex-Templar.
The bored voice spoke again, in a tone of droll amusement now. "My dear, aren't you being sent to the Fereldan court next winter to negotiate for your family's interests? If so, may I strongly recommend that you not say anything of the sort about her or that mabari in front of Fereldens if you want to accomplish anything. Even the ones who detest her will take offense for Ferelden's sake. They might even guess that you're bitter because she humiliated you. You certainly wouldn't be the first."
The two men watched silently as a masked Orlesian man left the half-visible group in a huff, then a new male voice asked in amusement, "My dear, you were exiled to the Fereldan court for years, and we all saw how he greeted her in the courtyard today. Is she his mistress?"
The bored voice chuckled. "I really don't know, but I rather doubt it. It's an open secret that he and his teryna haven't shared a room since the day they were married, almost Orlesian of them, though they seem on friendly enough terms. It certainly wouldn't be any scandal, even in Ferelden, if it was suspected that the Warden-Commander was his mistress since he has already produced his heirs. Besides, he has the choice of much more beautiful elves than her if that's where his tastes lie." Something in the way the word elves dripped from the speaker's mouth angered Cullen almost as much as the bitter man's insults; it was so clearly meant to be a more polite word for the same things he'd called her. There was a pause as if the speaker was drinking or eating something, then she went on. "When the teryn was still being pursued by every eligible woman at court before he remarried, she would suddenly appear to pry him out of their clutches for a 'dancing lesson' while they all glared after her. And he had a knack for appearing close by when someone was making a nuisance of himself. He never said or did anything; I rather thought he was providing her with a witness no one would challenge. If there was ever anything more to it than that, they hid it better than any lovers I've ever known."
"And no one is better than you at spotting the potential for gossip." The first voice, no longer affronted, spoke in tones that could either have been admiration or polite sarcasm.
"Since it was the reason I was exiled to Denerim for years, I'd be denying the obvious."
The conversation wandered into pointed critique of the clothing and manners of the Fereldens in attendance, and Timur let go of Cullen's hand, letting out a huff of breath as his eyes sought out the pair on the dance floor. Rylen leaned a bit closer, his tone artificially light.
"So, Commander, I suppose poison might upset the lady Ambassador, but have you considered pointing out certain Orlesians to Sera? Because the idea of her putting her talent for 'jokes' to use suddenly has a lot of appeal."
Cullen met his eyes for a moment, then glanced down to see Timur watching the two men to see that he had their attention before he sneezed in amusement. "I think the three of us are in agreement. Maker's breath, I had no idea it was really like that. I mean, she's mentioned it, but…" He sighed, trying to let go of some of his anger. "I suppose it doesn't say a lot for me that I assumed it wasn't that overt, at least."
"Surana strikes me as more likely to omit things than exaggerate them, Commander. Frankly, I'd rather spend six months in the Western Approach or the Roaring Wastes than two evenings in the company of nobles, and I'm not an elf."
Fergus guided Surana around the room, his expression outwardly light. "Well! Alone at last, or close enough. My dear Warden-Commander, you vanish for two years and reappear unexpectedly looking as if you haven't eaten in a month, absolutely wrecking Lady Josephine and Queen Anora's decorous ceremonies, and setting the entire Ferelden entourage whispering about your mysterious reappearance instead of the Inquisition and their Orlesian allies."
"Didn't you once tell me I should try harder to keep people guessing? Regretting your own advice?"
"Hmm, I suppose I did." He held the lightly amused expression in place, but his eyes were concerned as he studied her face. "Since you're back, I take it you found what you were looking for?"
"I…don't know. It may be that it reverses the Joining slowly." Her eyes avoided his, and he changed subjects abruptly.
"And you've been busy renewing old acquaintances in the past week as well, I see." Surana looked back up, puzzled. "Commander Cullen, he was a Templar at Kinloch while you were still an apprentice."
"I see you two chatted while Rylen and I sparred today." Anyone not close enough to see her eyes would have thought she was amused.
"Every time I've seen you today, he's been close to you or watching you, and except when you were sparring, you have known exactly where he was and what he was doing. Timur didn't even leave him to say hello to me while we watched you spar. When I approached just now, he rather looked as if he'd just been struck with a club, not that I blame him when you wear that shade of blue. The other Templar, it was easy to see what wall you put between him and you, but not the Commander."
Surana's step faltered a little, just enough to make her next step or two slightly out of sync, though not enough to stumble or to actually step on the Teryn's feet, but she remained silent.
"You care about him, don't you? Maybe more than you admit to yourself."
"Please don't." She recovered her poise, but looked over his shoulder rather than meet his eyes.
"Timur likes him, trusts him." The noble added shrewdly.
"Fergus…" She dropped her voice so low that even if another couple had brushed up against them, they would have had difficulty hearing the plea in her voice, and the Teryn dropped his voice to match.
"Arisha, he's not one of your wardens, you don't need to drive him away, especially if you've found a cure."
"Fergus, it's not like that." The artificial smile she had worn since they took the dance floor slipped a little, though someone would have had to be close to them and watching intently to notice.
"Look me in the eye and deny it." He could feel the thin body in his arms stiffen almost to rigidity. "You can't, can you?"
"It doesn't matter how I feel. It doesn't even matter how he feels. What matters is that I'm the last person he needs in his life just as he's finally putting the pieces back together."
Fergus's voice stayed low, but carried a note of cajoling. "I can't understand if you won't tell me."
"I can't. Just take it that someone once used me to hurt him."
"Arisha, you need someone. I don't want to think about what you'll do when…"
"No. Please, I don't want to talk about it. And I won't." She blinked several times quickly, then fixed her own polite smile firmly back in place and met his eyes obstinately.
"Alright, then. But you, more than anyone, should know what the new Divine would say, that the Maker wants all of his children to be happy." Long experience with court had kept a light, smiling expression on his face, and to any observers, he might simply have engaged in an amusing courtly flirtation.
Surana snorted bitterly. "The Maker made me an elf and a mage, then let me be forced into the Joining and threw me at an archdemon, and those may have been the high points. I may be doing what he wanted, but somehow I don't think my happiness has been his priority. Or have you forgotten that the few times I've let someone close to me, your lordship, I've been forced to choose to sacrifice them for everyone else's best interests?"
"Not me, though."
"You have your own walls, your lordship."
The teryn's hand tightened slightly on the hand he held in his, just a gentle pressure. "Well, at least for a few days, I'm here if you need me, Warden-Commander."