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"And that's dealt with, thank goodness."

Ciri stretched on her loveseat and handed off the last of the agenda items to Owain, resting her head on his shoulder. It was a relief to be back at Skyhold after everything that had happened at the Winter Palace. She still felt a tinge of guilt over her decision, but the reports coming back from Leliana's agents only seemed to reinforce that it was the right one.

"And your hand's better?" he asked, gently twining his fingers through hers.

"It's the same as it was the last time you asked," she told him, leaning up to kiss him. "Pins and needles. But it doesn't hurt like it did on the way back to Skyhold."

Her hand had been the first thing tended to on their arrival at Skyhold, and now it was back to its usual prickly sensitivity after Triss and Solas had drawn magic from it into three of the chrysoprase discs. But they'd given her a dire warning: any further magic use beyond closing rifts would open the anchor beyond repair. That was her very last chance.

"Mm." He turned her palm up to expose the shattered mark and said quietly, "We'll need to talk about him, you know."

"I know. But not now."

Solas had been apologetic once she'd found him in the aftermath of the masquerade's events, and deeply remorseful at the sight of her worsened anchor. Ciri quietly let his excuse of needing to find the garderobe go unquestioned, but she'd sought out Briala afterward and asked her to have her people look into it. He'd been up to something, and she'd find out what.

Owain laid an apologetic kiss on her hair and murmured, "You still smell amazing."

She smiled and squeezed his hand. All her fripperies were safely stowed away; the gown in a cedar chest, the slippers in her wardrobe, and Iori Trevelyan's necklace returned with mingled gratitude and relief. She was back in trousers and a linen shirt again, her hair in a simple bun. Her wolfs-head amulet and agate pendant were a comforting weight after having been parted from them for even one night.

But she'd kept the perfume. A little luxury to wear in Skyhold, just for herself.

"We should get to the meeting," she said. "Judging by the stack, there's quite a bit to address."

"I'm right behind you."

Ciri reluctantly sat up and took back the stack of parchment from Owain, and they made their way down the stairs from her quarters to the main hall. She stopped and stood for a moment by the door, just looking around. There were new faces today. A handful of elaborately dressed Orlesian nobles lingered in the hall, chatting together lightly. And she spotted a few elves she hadn't seen before, either, all of them sharp-eyed and unobtrusively armed.

Duke Cyril's open declaration of support and Briala's promise of an alliance had paid off already.

"I think the revered mother wants a word," Owain murmured. He made a low gesture at a figure hovering halfway down the hall.

Sure enough, Revered Mother Giselle was watching Ciri closely, not moving a jot from the spot she'd staked out.

"You go on ahead," Ciri told Owain. "I'll catch up in a moment."

He nodded and gave her a swift kiss before striding off toward the War Room. Ciri headed further into the main hall, and as she drew closer to Mother Giselle, she could see a glint of concern in her dark eyes.

"Can I help you, Revered Mother?" Ciri asked.

"My Lady Inquisitor, I appreciate you giving me a moment of your time," Revered Mother Giselle began. Her hands played absently with a sealed letter written on good parchment. "I have news regarding one of your…companions. The Tevinter."

Ciri frowned at the veiled distaste in Mother Giselle's words. "By 'the Tevinter,' I assume you mean Dorian Pavus," she corrected her. "My good friend, and the man who went against his mentor to save the free mages of Thedas from slavery in Redcliffe."

Mother Giselle drew back slightly. "I apologize. I admit his presence here makes me uncomfortable. But that is no reason to slight him. Your words are true; he has done much for the Inquisition."

"Apology accepted," Ciri said coolly. "What is it you need?"

"I have been in contact with his family, House Pavus," Mother Giselle said. Her hands began to worry at the letter again. "Are you familiar with them?"

"Not in the slightest," she told her. "I don't think Dorian's on good terms with them."

He'd called himself a pariah, she recalled. A pariah with the right family name.

Mother Giselle nodded. "I believe you are correct. The family sent a letter to me describing their estrangement from their son and pleading for my assistance. They've asked for me to arrange a meeting, and to keep the reason for it a secret from him. They fear he'll never come if he knows its purpose. Since you call the young man a good friend, I had hoped –"

"You can't imagine that I'll trick Dorian into meeting his parents against his wishes," Ciri snapped.

She could still remember threatening to tear out Emhyr's throat with her teeth, and that had been before she knew of their blood connection. If anyone had sprung a heartfelt family reunion on her when they'd been fighting the Wild Hunt, she might have lunged for theirs instead. And assuming Dorian felt even a fraction of the fear and anger that she harbored toward her birth father…

"No," she said, glaring at Mother Giselle. "Not a chance."

"I feared you might say that," Mother Giselle sighed. She held out the letter to Ciri. "Tell the young man, then, or don't. A family retainer will be waiting at the inn in Redcliffe for him, to take him back to Qarinus. The matter can be ended there if he truly doesn't wish to reconcile. I pray you change your mind, Your Worship. If there is any chance to reunite a son with his desperate parents, then we must surely act."

The revered mother bowed again as Ciri took the letter, and she turned and slowly made her way from the main hall. Ciri looked down at the deep blue sealing wax stamped with an image of a peacock feather crossed by a staff and felt a familiar pang of worry. But there was no time to address the matter. She was running late for the meeting. She stuffed the letter in with the rest of the pages and hurried off to the War Room.

She was the last one there, as she'd expected. The others, all gathered around the table, looked up to either nod or smile as she entered and shut the door behind her. She joined them at the table's edge and placed the papers on a clear spot to the right of the Fallow Mire, casting her gaze over the pewter tokens dotting the landscape. A handful of keys and ravens had appeared in Orlais near towns and cities she was vaguely familiar with, and there was a tight cluster of all three types of tokens in the Gamordan Peaks.

"Duke Cyril and the majority of the court will have reached Val Royeaux by now," Josephine said with a flick of her eyes toward the city on the map. She seemed slightly out of sorts to Ciri, but it wasn't anything she could quite put her finger on. "It will take a few weeks to arrange the coronation, but the succession is secured, and Orlais will soon have its emperor. Leaving your honor guard behind to travel with him was a good decision. They'll represent us well at his coronation."

"It's an unusual situation," Chancellor Roderick added. "The emperor or empress of Orlais is always crowned by the Divine. Never before has Thedas gone for so long without one. I imagine some will whisper about the break with tradition, but it can't be helped. It isn't as if we could turn to Agnesot for the coronation."

"Yes, speaking of Agnesot, what are we doing about Lydes?" Ciri asked. She braced her hands on the edge of the table and leaned forward to catch everyone's eyes. "We're nearly three months out from when Dorian and I landed in Redcliffe in the dark future. Fiona told us then that Lydes had become a farm for red lyrium. We've left the situation alone for this long, but now that we know Florianne was involved with Corypheus, and that she was likely the source of the funds for the bounty on my head…"

"Duke Cyril has recalled both armies from Dirthavaren," Cullen said. "A regiment from Celene's former army is marching on Lydes as we speak. It's not a popular decision, as Lydes is still a duchy, and excommunicated or not, most Orlesians remember Agnesot as a respected grand cleric, not a false Divine. But he's taken Florianne's association with Corypheus personally, and he wishes to see his influence routed from the empire he's inherited."

Ciri sucked in a quick, worried breath. "They're marching on the city?"

"Not to sack it," Owain said swiftly. "Duke Cyril is concerned there might be Venatori in the city, or, more likely, Red Templars. Any soldier who harms a civilian will be punished severely." He slid a letter across the map to her with a reassuring nod. "This arrived while we were waiting for you. It might set your mind at ease."

She scanned the letter and felt her shoulders relax slightly. "He's recalling the chevaliers to Val Royeaux for a review of their conduct. And he's asked Marquise Briala to serve as his official spymaster."

She hadn't made a mistake after all. Cyril de Montfort was the man she'd thought him to be, regardless of whether she'd been manipulated into taking that path or not.

"She'll do well in that role," Leliana said. "And Lydes is out of our hands now. I am sure we'll soon learn what the army discovers, for better or for worse."

"Let's hope we didn't leave it until it was too late." Ciri shuffled through the pages and looked up at Cullen. "As for the other military matter, I understand our fortification of Kirkwall went well?"

"Our soldiers reached the city in time to repel Prince Sebastian's men," Cullen confirmed. "A complete rout. He was forced into full retreat back to Starkhaven. We've left a few companies behind to garrison with the Kirkwall city guard, and in the empty Gallows, but most of them are on their way back to Skyhold with Bran Cavin and Aveline Vallen's thanks."

"That's a bit of good news." Ciri turned to Leliana. "And Hawke and Anders haven't been seen?"

"Not so far as I or my agents have heard, though I'm sure Varric is keeping tabs on their whereabouts," she said.

Chancellor Roderick frowned at that, but to Ciri's surprise, Cullen only looked vaguely regretful.

Ciri moved on, motioning to Triss. "You arranged something with Comtesse Solange Montbelliard for the free mages, but I didn't catch the details."

Triss smiled. "The comtesse has promised to bring her influence to bear at the University of Val Royeaux. It would open teaching positions and student admission to mages looking to expand their horizons beyond the arcane and give them a semi-controlled environment to interact with similarly-minded peers."

"That's an excellent idea," Cullen said, nodding firmly. He hesitated, then added carefully, as if he were unsure it would be taken well, "If any of the people Comtesse Montbelliard reaches out to are hesitant to aid her without a Templar's support, please feel free to use my name and former title if it would help."

Triss looked at him in surprise. "I think she has it taken care of," she said. "But thank you."

He nodded again awkwardly. "If there's anything I can do to help the free mages –"

"I'll let you know," Triss said.

Ciri pulled out another page and raised an eyebrow. "I see that Cole's 'Amulet of the Unbound' finally arrived from the Rivaini seers."

"He'll be pleased by that," Raúl said. He chuckled and pushed a cloth-wrapped package across the map to her. "I had three soldiers come to the office right before we left for Halamshiral complaining that their daggers went missing. We found a barrel full of them the morning we got back. I'd think he was playing a prank like Sera if I didn't know better."

"So which one of your soldiers got in a brawl and went to pull a dagger, but found themselves unarmed?" Ciri asked in amusement as she tucked the package away in her belt pouch.

"One of my complainers," Raúl told her with a grin. "He's still scrubbing out the privies."

"That will make the lesson stick." Ciri tapped the stack of papers idly. "I'll bring Cole the amulet as soon as I have the time. And Solas and Olgierd should be on hand in case anything goes wrong."

"It can't be after the meeting," Leliana said. "Morrigan has asked to speak with you in the garden."

Ciri frowned. "I understand Duke Cyril thought she might be able to help the Inquisition, but what's her motivation in being here? What does an apostate turned court enchanter want with a religious army?"

Of all the things to come from the tumultuous night of Halamshiral's masquerade, the addition of Morrigan to the Inquisition had been the most unexpected. But she could scarcely turn down Duke Cyril's request after everything that had happened. Still, she'd had a moment of disbelief the morning they'd set out to ride and Morrigan had joined them, a tall, solemn-faced young boy at her side. Morrigan had shed the elaborate court gown in favor of something a hedge-witch might wear, all leather and feathers and natural fibers dyed that same burgundy as her dress. Something in Ciri had eased at that, and mentally re-categorized her from 'akin to the Lodge' to merely 'strange and unknown.'

She'd brought a tall, flat package with her, too large to be carried by horse. It had needed to be stowed lengthwise across the floor of one of the carriages back to Skyhold, accompanied by Morrigan's sharp rebukes not to bump or damage it. And whenever anyone asked what it was, all they received was a smirk and a clever remark.

"It is less the religious army she's interested in and more the haven you've built, I believe," Josephine said. "You have made the Inquisition a welcoming place for people of all walks of life. Have you had the opportunity to speak to Morrigan's son, Kieran? He is…an unusual boy. Very polite, but a bit unnerving. Morrigan may simply be looking for a safe place to raise him for a while."

"That, and through you, she'll have access to knowledge most mages can only dream of," Leliana added. "Not long ago, you and Mihris discovered an Elvhen temple that had been lost since the fall of Elvhenan. She would find that sort of knowledge particularly enticing."

"If I find I can trust her, I may even give her access to that knowledge," Ciri said. "But…" She sighed. "Speaking of that temple, and the people who found it."

"Solas," Owain said, sympathy filling his face.

"He went missing in the middle of the masquerade, right when I needed him," she said. "And none of you saw him?"

"We weren't looking for him," Triss said, "but no. Not for at least forty minutes."

"Forty minutes is a long time to search for a garderobe," Ciri muttered.

"Inquisitor, are you certain you wish to continue to entertain this strategy of attempting to sway Solas from his course while you simultaneously attempt to discover what exactly that course is?" Cullen asked, rubbing his forehead.

Ciri felt her cheeks flush with heat. "It is working," she defended herself. "The being in the Fade said that whatever we learn from that tablet might prove useful if he uncovered it himself, that what I'm doing is allowing him to have that necessary change of heart. And he seemed stricken by the fact that I was injured in his absence. He has friends now, beyond just Cole and me. If he intends to act on his plan for the Veil, he'd have to knowingly hurt us."

"And he might do just that," Owain said bluntly. "He was up to something that night. I know he cares for you; it's clear he does. But it doesn't seem to be stopping him."

"We agreed to this course because there was no evidence that he'd ever acted on this plan," Raúl said. "It isn't fair to convict a man on thoughts alone, after all, and it was safe enough to keep a close eye on him here at Skyhold, or to keep him under your watch out in the field. But he's acted now. He slipped the watch."

"I know," Ciri said quietly.

Leliana came around the edge of the table and set her hand on Ciri's shoulder, drawing her eyes up to meet hers. "I know what it is like to have a blind spot for someone dangerous," she said, her voice soft. "I had my eyes shut to all the warning signs until it was too late and ended up betrayed by a woman I thought the world of. Don't let that be your fate."

Ciri pressed her lips together and looked away. The room was still around her, as if everyone were holding their breath waiting for her answer. Finally, she gave Leliana a short nod. "I understand. And I won't let him hurt us or carry out his plan. But I'm not done trying to change his mind."

Leliana didn't remove her hand. "You said you wouldn't strike first. If he proves himself a danger –"

"Then I will," Ciri said reluctantly. "You have my word." She drummed her fingers on the pages again and added, "He has a connection to Fen'Harel somehow. And he indicated at the masquerade that he'd attended high society parties before, not just seen them in the Fade."

"I'll look into it," Leliana told her. She gave Ciri's shoulder a gentle pat and let go.

"Enough about Solas," Ciri said with finality. She returned to her stack of pages and flipped to the last one. "This is interesting. The Freemen moved to the Emerald Graves – and you suspect some of them to be colluding with the Venatori and Red Templars?"

"Unfortunately, your work in shutting down the Deep Roads entrance in the Hinterlands did little to cut off the Red Templars' access to red lyrium," Cullen said. "Our scouts report that their shipments are passing through that area unimpeded. Given that it's become a stronghold for the Freemen, we found it suspicious."

"Not to mention the reports of the local civilians going missing," Owain added. "A commoner called Fairbanks has taken a few dozen refugees under his wing and banded them together against the Freemen, but he's asked for our aid."

"He'll have it. Send him a company of soldiers and a few of our best agents. This connection needs to be investigated."

"He's also offered to help, but only if he speaks to you personally," Cullen said.

"That will have to wait." Ciri fished out the letter from the Pavus family from the stack. "Cole's amulet can't be delegated, and I have an obligation to Dorian that may take me from Skyhold for a few weeks. Fairbanks will get his help. He'll have to be satisfied with that."

She gave the stack a final look through and nodded to herself. "I believe that's the last of it. Unless anyone else has something to add?"

"Only that the revered mothers and I would like a word with you and Seeker Cassandra, Sister," Chancellor Roderick said to Leliana. "Perhaps this evening?"

Leliana's eyes sharpened at that. "We will make the time."

"Thank you."

"I suppose I had better go and find out what Morrigan wants," Ciri said. She smiled at Owain. "I'll see you at supper?"

"I wouldn't miss it," he said warmly.

The meeting broke up from there, and Ciri headed out of the War Room at Josephine's side. To her surprise, her friend went straight past her office without stopping.

"Where are you off to?" she asked.

Josephine gave her a smile tinged with worry. "I received a letter from home that contained some troubling news. It's my hope that Olgierd can ease my concerns."

It seemed to be a day for troubling letters from home. "I hope so, too."

Josephine parted from her in the main hall, heading for the rotunda and then presumably to the library. Ciri went the other way, letting herself out the side door to the garden in search of Morrigan.

Few people were in the garden at the moment. Scout Ritts sat on a stone bench with her nose buried in a book, and the Iron Bull sat at the chess table across from Krem, an easy smile on his craggy face.

Low, emotional voices caught her attention, and she looked toward the gazebo. Her heart gave a painful pang at the sight that greeted her eyes.

Crassius Servis clutched a pale, silver-haired woman to him as a tall, graying man who shared his light brown complexion wrapped his arms around them both. Two of Leliana's agents stood silently a polite distance away. Servis looked up sharply as Ciri made a soft sound, and a complicated expression crossed his face, one full of anger and regret and love. After a long, weighted moment, he nodded to her and looked away. Ciri smiled wistfully at the reunion, suddenly acutely feeling the vast distance separating her from her parents.

Soon, she promised herself. She wouldn't be here forever.

"You're the Inquisitor."

She turned away from the gazebo at the sound of a boyish voice coming from around shoulder height. Morrigan's elusive son Kieran, whom she'd only occasionally seen on the trip back to Skyhold, stood at her side staring up at her with big, rich brown eyes. He had Morrigan's pale skin and black hair, and he wore formal Orlesian clothing in the same burgundy and black as his mother.

"Mother never told me you were a mage," he continued.

"I am," Ciri said, then frowned and added, "Sort of. I can't currently use magic. It hurts me when I do."

He tilted his head, his eyes taking on an unfocused haze as he stared at her hand. "Your magic wants to move. But the other magic wants to stay still. Yes, that would hurt." He looked back up at her, his eyes clearing. "Your blood is older than you are."

"Kieran." Morrigan strode up, looking between them warily. "Are you bothering the Inquisitor?"

"Of course not." He turned big, guileless eyes toward Morrigan. "Did you know she's a mage, Mother? Have you seen her hand?"

"I did see." Morrigan placed a gentle hand on Kieran's shoulder and nudged him in the direction of the stairs. "'Tis time to return to your studies, little man."

Kieran sighed and plodded off, and Morrigan laughed softly.

"My son," she said. "Full of boundless curiosity. And never where one expects him to be, naturally."

Ciri smiled at her. Kieran's unhappy trudge was so oddly normal after his strangely insightful words. She could see why Josephine had called him unusual. But there was a prickly defensiveness to Morrigan's posture, and Ciri wasn't about to pry.

"Leliana told me you wanted to see me," she said instead.

"I did." Morrigan turned and began walking toward the other end of the garden, and Ciri fell into step beside her. "Your Inquisition was kind enough to bring my package for me without complaints or fuss, so now I would show you what their efforts wrought on our behalf."

Ciri looked at her sidelong. 'Our' behalf?

Morrigan slid a key into the lock to a door that, to Ciri's knowledge, had been used for storage up until now. She turned the handle, glanced over her shoulder, and stepped inside. Ciri followed her through, only to stop short and stare.

"This is an eluvian," Morrigan said proudly. "An Elvhen artifact, from a time long before their empire was lost to human greed."

"I've heard of them," Ciri told her. "I've seen them in a dream."

Morrigan's eluvian stood several feet taller than them, wider than the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder. The surface gleamed dully, like old silver.

"Restoring this one has been the work of the last few years, and I doubt you'll easily find a better example of an eluvian anywhere in Thedas. However, I believe another lies within the Arbor Wilds. I suspect that is what Corypheus seeks," Morrigan said.

"How do you know?" Ciri asked. "Or suspect, rather."

Morrigan led the way over to her eluvian. She answered with a note of pride in her voice. "I found legends of an Elvhen temple within the Arbor Wilds, lost to the ages. I made an attempt to approach, but it proved too dangerous for a lone mage, even one as strong as I. In the end, I had to turn elsewhere to find my prize. If Corypheus turns southward, his army could succeed where I alone could not. The eluvian would be his."

"If he controlled an eluvian, he could move his army halfway across Thedas in an instant," Ciri said at once. It was little wonder Corypheus was ransacking ancient Elvhen ruins if he was searching for an eluvian.

"He could do far worse than that." Morrigan lifted her hands, and with a sudden shoving motion, thrust magic at the inert eluvian.

It woke with the sound of steam hitting cold air. Its surface rippled an eerie blue, the colors flickering silver and lilac in places before fading back to the deep, unnatural shade at its heart.

"Come and see the power Corypheus wishes to possess," Morrigan said, gesturing to the swirling blue eluvian.

Cautiously, and with more than a little intrigue, Ciri followed Morrigan through.

It was nothing like walking through a portal. It felt as though she'd stepped through a waterfall made of light, gently pouring down over her like the cool, dry-water sensation of Solas' barrier spell. For just the barest moment, her movement met resistance. Then it gave way, like a soap bubble popping beneath her fingers, and she came out the other side.

She stepped out into a vast, empty space, the floor beneath her feet made of gleaming white stone. Everywhere she turned her head, coruscating rainbows glinted at the corners of her eyes. The light above seemed clearer and cleaner than it had in the room they'd just left behind. The air was still, but it almost seemed to hum against her skin. And every which way she looked, she saw eluvians. Massive and small, decorated with gold or wrought with sturdy iron, dozens, perhaps hundreds dotted the stone plain. And for each eluvian that looked whole, ten were dark or broken. Interspersed between them were enormous, stylized metal trees, their branches curving around gracefully to form globes that reminded Ciri strikingly of antlers.

"If ever this place had a name," Morrigan said, her voice hushed, "it has long been lost."

They wandered together deeper into the collection of eluvians and barren metal trees, their footsteps silent on the white stone floor. A faint mist twined about their ankles.

"I call it the Crossroads," Morrigan continued. "The place where all eluvians join – wherever they might be."

"I dreamt of something like this," Ciri said quietly. "The reality is so much more than I expected. To think it's lasted for thousands of years! What even is this place?"

"Some tiny world floating between ours and the Fade, crafted from the fabric of time and space itself, perhaps," Morrigan said. "The Elvhen were nothing if not masters of the arcane arts."

Ciri blinked in surprise at that. Time and space. If Morrigan was right, it was little wonder she felt so alive here. The magic of this place felt familiar in an almost friendly way.

"A tiny world?" she asked. "An artificial one?"

Morrigan tilted her head in confirmation. "As best I can determine. Not all eluvians lead from one point on Thedas to another. Some lead...beyond. To places like this, or others like it. I spent time in one, years ago. It offered sanctuary, a space to raise my son in peace."

Ciri bit back the dozen questions that arose, and she pushed down the sudden urge to ask if she'd traveled past the crafted Fade realms to real worlds. Morrigan was still a veritable stranger despite this show of trust. But the knowledge that the eluvians were even more like portals than she'd imagined was beyond interesting. She'd want to look into that later.

She said none of this, simply saying instead, "But you didn't stay."

"I am not so cruel as to keep my son in isolation, away from anyone to socialize with but his mother," Morrigan said. "No matter the risks involved, or the beauty and safety of our sanctuary's surroundings."

"I understand," Ciri told her.

Morrigan gave her a half-smile and continued briskly. "As you can see, most of the mirrors are dark. Over thousands of years, they've become broken, corrupted, or simply unusable. As for the rest, a few can be opened from this side. But only a few."

Ciri met her strange golden eyes and raised her eyebrows. "But someone would have to get here in order to use them, and I imagine that's no small feat."

"No, and thus I believe Corypheus strives to possess the one in the Arbor Wilds. Few eluvians in Thedas still work, and of those, only a handful are 'unlocked,' like a door left ajar. All others are closed and can only be opened from beyond. Should he attain what he seeks, he could come here and open any such eluvian, provided he had the key."

"What sort of key unlocks an eluvian?" Ciri asked.

"Each key is different," Morrigan said. "Some require a passcode. Others need an enchanted gem, or a spell."

Ciri nodded absently, her eyes trailing over the darkened eluvians and the bare-branched metal trees. Control of the eluvian network would give Corypheus unprecedented power. He could overwhelm Thedas with his army before the Inquisition and their allies could respond. And yet something about that didn't seem to ring true.

"This place," she said, turning back to Morrigan. "It isn't in the physical world. And it's not in the Fade?"

"No, but it's very close."

"Is it close enough that Corypheus could enter the Fade from here?"

Morrigan's eyes glinted. "With enough magic, from this little world, he could tear down the ancient barriers separating the physical world from the Fade."

"Just as he'd intended to do with the Anchor." Ciri looked around at the white plain again, rainbows glinting in the corners of her eyes, and felt urgency nibbling at her heels. "Does your eluvian require a key?"

"It does," Morrigan confirmed.

"Guard it well, then," Ciri told her firmly. "And don't let anyone else know you've brought an eluvian to Skyhold."

Especially Solas.

"As you say, Inquisitor." Morrigan began to walk back toward her shimmering, glowing eluvian. "You have made your enemy desperate. I look forward to aiding you in foiling him yet again."

"Thank you for the assistance," Ciri said, and as Morrigan disappeared through the eluvian, she added under her breath, "and the warning."

She stepped in after her through the soap-bubble waterfall of light. The problems of Corypheus, Solas, and the Fade could wait. For now, she had an amulet and a letter to deliver.

"Will you not tell me what the matter is?" Olgierd asked as Josephine's door shut behind them. "You look like you've seen your own grave."

Josephine had come and fetched him from the library where he'd been perusing the shelves in search of something new to read, her face troubled and full of worry. But not a word of her problem had crossed her lips as she'd led him back to her room to speak in private.

She could barely muster a smile at that, and his heart ached to see the pale imitation that crossed her face. He extended a hand to her only for her to step out of reach and begin to nervously pace her small room, her fingers twisting before her.

"It is not quite so dire as you say," she began. "No one's life is at stake this time."

Olgierd realized his hand was still outstretched, and he dropped it, his stomach dropping with it. "Whatever it is, we are partners in this."

Josephine's knuckles went white as her fingers twisted, and she took another silent turn back and forth. Finally, the words flew from her lips, and with them, all the air disappeared from the room.

"I'm engaged."

Engaged.

For a moment, he couldn't breathe. His heart was a pounding drumbeat in his ears. Past sorrows seemed to stretch before him as the present wrote an eerie parallel.

"It wasn't my doing – my parents have been searching for a suitable match for me for some time –"

He took a deep, ragged breath and leaned back against the wall, pressing a hand to his face.

"Olgierd?"

"You asked me to let you walk away if ever you wished to leave," he said hoarsely. "Do you wish it, Josephine?"

Every fiber in his body, every mote of his being, longed to keep her by his side. But his desperate fight for Iris was what had caused his downfall before. He couldn't hate whoever Josephine's parents had engaged her to as he'd once hated the Ofieri prince. The man likely had no knowledge of their courtship, and he hadn't the anger in him that he used to. There would be no reckless curses and man-eating toads this time.

He heard a quick patter of feet rushing over, and then Josephine's soft hand was on his, drawing it from his face to clasp between hers. Her hazel eyes stared up at him, distressed and determined in equal measure.

"No." Her hands gripping his tightly, she exhaled and started over. "As the next head of our house, my parents are determined that I marry well. Since I had very little success courting while in Orlais, they took it upon themselves to find someone for me. They began looking not long after I joined the Inquisition – I didn't think anything of it since I never heard about it from them again.

"And after our talk during the trouble with the House of Repose, it completely slipped my mind to write to them that we'd become serious about each other. Now they've engaged me to a count, a Lord Adorno Ciel Otranto. If only I'd remembered to tell them of you! None of this would have happened!"

"It's too late to consider what-ifs," he sighed. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her to elope, and he bit it back, terrified of making the same mistake twice. "What do you wish to do?"

He watched her throat bob as she swallowed nervously. "I have never gone against my parents in such matters," she said, her voice soft. "But Olgierd. Tell me we have a future together and I will run to my desk to write to them and have them call the engagement off."

A wave of relief hit him, and he leaned harder into the wall. He opened his mouth to give her his eager agreement, then faltered as a realization struck him.

"I cannot be selfish with your happiness," he said quietly. "I've told you of Solas' theory of Imshael and O'Dimm being one and the same. If they are, I may face the piper's tune sooner than I would have hoped. To promise you a lifetime, only to leave you after a scant few months – I wouldn't wish that on you."

Her face fell, but her grip on his hand grew even tighter, and the determination in her eyes shone that much brighter. "I will not lose you to this demon. Not after Ciri's father already freed you from him. You have Ciri, Solas, and Mihris to help you this time. And I –" She exhaled shakily. "–I would rather have a few months with you than a lifetime with Count Adorno."

"That's not a future, dove," he whispered to her.

"Then you will have to live so that we will have one." She leaned up and pressed her lips to his, soft and sweet.

He pulled her into his arms and closed his eyes, just trying to breathe steadily. Against Josephine's back, his hands trembled just the slightest bit. Her perfume, faint and sweetly spicy, floated around his head, chasing the ghosts of the past from the room and anchoring him to the present.

"I haven't a title here in Thedas," he said after his hands had finally stilled. In the back of his mind, a quiet voice that sounded like his brother's chided him to stop talking. "I've my wealth, but your parents might look askance at a commoner with money. They may think I'm reaching above my station."

"The Montilyets got their start as merchants," Josephine said from within the circle of his arms. "Mother and Father would be hypocrites to judge you for that. And you would share my title through marriage."

"I'm a mage," he reminded her. "That won't be good for your family's reputation."

"The Inquisition is improving the lives and rights of mages across Thedas," she countered. "And can the magic of the Continent be inherited?"

His heart gave a wild leap at the implications of her question, but he answered her steadily. "Some of it. Ciri's, certainly. Not mine."

"Then it's hardly a problem."

"Your parents are going to think you found me in the worst den of crime and iniquity in Thedas the moment they lay eyes on me."

"I would bet a hundred royals that Yvette went back to Antiva City with breathless tales of the scarred hero who saved her life at the masquerade. And we are Antivan. If they imagined you came from a den of crime and iniquity, it would only be the third-worst den at best."

He laughed and pulled her closer. "I'm well over twice your age –"

"We agreed that doesn't matter, and besides, you yourself say you don't feel it anymore." She laughed into his shoulder. "Try another one."

"I'll ask your cook to make all manner of strange Redanian dishes."

"I will gladly eat them. And for every dish of yours, we will serve something traditionally Antivan." She turned her face up to his with a smile brimming with amusement. "Out of arguments already? You cannot push me into the arms of another, my dear one, no matter how selfless you feel you must be."

"Pushing you into the arms of another is the last thing I want to do," he told her. "But I'm a bad bet, dove."

"And I'm an Antivan," she retorted. "I know a winning hand when I see one." Her smile shrank, and she fixed him with a serious look. "We promised each other honesty in our personal lives. Do we have a future together?"

"Oh, Josephine." He raised a hand to cup her cheek. "I would gladly spend all the rest of my days with you."

"Then do," she said softly.

He drew his hand from her cheek to her hair to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. "All my days," he said, "and all my nights. All my joys and sorrows. I had not thought to love again, but you – I could not guard my heart against you. You've tied a knot around it, and the other end of the line is in your hand."

She shook her head at him, her eyes bright with emotion. "It isn't in my hand. It's tied around my own. How could you imagine that I would love you any less when you bring me such happiness?"

Words failed him. All he could do was drop his head and capture her lips with his, joy and affection and desire all rushing through him. Her arms twined about his neck and drew him closer to deepen the kiss. He wrapped an arm around her waist and lost himself in the softness of her mouth.

To think he could be the cause of someone's happiness after bringing despair to so many people – ardently, honestly, with every breath in his battered body, he loved her.

He pulled away reluctantly, laying one last tender kiss on her lips.

"Well," he said at last. "Tied together as we are, I suppose there's naught we can do but keep our partnership." He smiled down at her, and he added teasingly, "Once you're no longer a promised woman, of course."

"Oh!" She stiffened in his arms. "I told you I'd run – I'll go and write them before they make any more decisions on my behalf!"

He laughed again and pulled her back. "It can keep a few minutes, dove. Stay a moment. Just…stay a moment."

She settled back into his embrace with a soft sigh, and the last vestiges of dread finally disappeared at the warm weight against his chest.

He was most assuredly undeserving of such good fortune. The looming specter of O'Dimm seemed to prove as much. But by Josephine's Maker and all the gods of the Continent, he'd do his best to be worthy.