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Josephine came into the inn, moving purposefully among the tables until she found the one she sought. "Your Majesty, may I sit?"

"Of course." Alistair indicated a free seat. "You can call me Alistair, you know."

"Are you or are you not the king of Ferelden?"

He sighed. He was, there was no denying that, and her point was clear—as long as his position held, so did her adherence to protocol. "Was there something on your mind, Josephine?"

"The Exalted Council is deadlocked."

"Isn't that good news?"

"It could be," Josephine conceded cautiously. "It is dangerous—too much pressure from either side might cause an unfortunate explosion. But it is also an opportunity. The Inquisitor is more than the equal of either of the representatives currently holding forth … but there is someone here who is their superior. Directly, in one case." She leaned across the table toward him, fixing him with her remarkable grey eyes. "The Inquisitor will be called upon to make a decision soon, and is being backed into a corner where only one answer seems possible. If you were to step in on Ferelden's behalf, that decision could be delayed. I don't think I need to remind you that there is unrest all throughout Thedas, or that the Qunari have made multiple attempts to attack the Winter Palace and this Council."

"I thought the Inquisitor dealt with the Qunari."

"He took away their source of lyrium, halting the operation of this 'Dragon's Breath', whatever that might be, and it will be difficult for them to find another source. However, we do not know how close they were to completion … or what they may do now that they have been thwarted."

"So you're saying that Thedas needs the Inquisition in the fight against the Qunari, and there may not be one to fight if I don't step in and put a muzzle on Teagan?"

Josephine grimaced, looking around to see if anyone was listening. Only the Chargers appeared to be near enough to hear, and they were on their third drunken chorus of their "Horns Up" song. Assured by the noise, she said cautiously, "That is the gist of what I had to say. Yes."

Alistair was torn. She was right, and he knew she was right, but—stepping in with the Exalted Council would make Teagan angry, would make Celene very unhappy by unbalancing the representation, and would be a fairly loud signal that he intended to continue as king, which he was not certain of at all. Still, Josephine was not going to go away until he gave her an answer. "I … will give it some thought."

She narrowed her eyes at him, indicating clearly that she wasn't happy with the answer, but wasn't surprised by it either. "Very well, Your Highness. Think quickly. There is not much time."

Cullen had fled from the War Meeting to the courtyard, where he resumed Salroka's training. Well, in point of fact, it was less training than play, if Cullen admitted as much to himself, but he wasn't about to look that deeply into his growing weariness with the politics, the fighting, the constant threat of doom hanging over his head. Instead, he pretended that the occasional throwing of the ball and the far more numerous pats and belly rubs were an exceptionally generous training routine.

At some point in the midst of this, when he had nearly forgotten his woes in the joy of having another creature to care for, he looked up and saw Dagna sitting on a bench nearby, watching them. Her face was an open book, all her feelings laid out for him so clearly, and the depth of it took his breath away. He did not deserve such devotion. He never had. And yet … knowing how she felt stirred him in a way he had not been stirred in a very long time.

When she saw him looking at her, the naked longing on her face disappeared as quickly as if it had never been and she got up and came to him. "I see the Commander is being most fierce in his training."

"Well …" Cullen flushed, looking down at the dog, who rolled over onto his back and yipped at Dagna. "He's been through a great deal."

"He's not the only one. Perhaps the Commander could give himself the same leeway he gives his dog."

"The thought had crossed my mind." The words came out more softly, more tenderly, than he had intended them to, and he looked away and changed the subject. "I have been thinking of the last time I was at the Winter Palace. It has not changed significantly. I have already answered dozens of questions about my personal life."

"I shouldn't have thought you'd have an answer to those questions," Dagna snapped. This time it was her turn to flush and look away.

"I endured the small talk then, little as I enjoyed it, because we were making a difference," he said, as though she hadn't spoken.

"Are you not making one now?"

"Less, I think. Ferelden and Orlais have backed us into a corner from which I believe there is only one way to escape. And, Maker help me, I almost welcome it, the chance to step down, step aside, and simply … live."

"What—what would you do? Would you go home to your family?"

"I don't know. I haven't thought, really." It occurred to Cullen, for the first time, how sad he would be if his future didn't cross paths with Dagna's. She had been there through so much that was difficult; he would like her to be there for the part that was … easier, as well. "My sister Mia would be pleased. Apparently she has devoted a great deal of time to teaching my nephew to best me at chess."

"That, I would like to see." Dagna stepped closer to him. Kneeling next to the dog as he was, their eyes were on a level, and he couldn't look away from hers, the depths there. "Cullen … I wish, just once …"

"What? What do you wish?" The words came out as the barest murmur even as he reached out and took her hand.

"That you would see me as a woman." It was a simple wish, and heartfelt, and it seemed to draw him to her, his lips seeking hers, the kiss soft and sweet. He found he didn't want to pull away, that he wanted to kiss her more, and longer. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he pulled her closer, cupping her cheek with his free hand.

Behind the screen he heard voices, that distinctive Orlesian accent, and he was reminded of where they were, drawing away from her, but with reluctance. "Dagna."

"Cullen." Her eyes were filled with tears. "Don't patronize me."

"I wasn't. I … I wanted to. I still want to."

A tremulous smile curved her lips, and he was pleased to see her smile again. All was well if Dagna could smile. "Then perhaps there's hope for you after all."

She turned and hurried off, and Cullen watched her, bemused. "Perhaps there is."

Thule sat down next to Cassandra on the marble steps and stretched out his legs, leaning back with his elbows on the step above him.

"You seem tired, my love."

"This damned Council. And the Qunari. The whole thing is just another endless mess, and I don't see a clear way out of it."

"Orlais and Ferelden are frightened by your power," Cassandra observed, reaching out to stroke his hair back from his face. "Except for Alistair, and he is a trusting fool."

Thule smiled at her frankness, especially knowing that Alistair himself wouldn't disagree.

"It's a pity there is no longer a hole in the sky to remind them that the power was needed. I mean—well, I didn't mean that, exactly, but …"

"I understand," he assured her. "I would have thought the likelihood of war with the Qunari might have been enough of a reminder."

"But apparently not."

"What if they're right?" He sighed, leaning further back so he could look up through the trellis at the sky. "What if it's not needed any longer?"

Cassandra looked down at him in alarm. "Do not say that aloud again. Not unless you wish them to scent blood. Besides, we have not yet come to that. Wait and see where this leads. Perhaps calmer heads will prevail."

Thule wasn't sure who she meant by calmer heads, other than possibly Alistair. "When has that ever been the case?"

"I am an optimist. Just ask Varric." She gave him a sidelong smile.

"How goes it with the Seekers?"

"I thought you hoped that if you didn't mention it, I would forget."

"No. Really, no. I'm interested, just … there's been a lot going on. As usual."

Cassandra nodded, understanding. She looped her clasped hands over her knee, looking out across the valley. "I have managed to find a few of my former comrades who had scattered to the winds. Some were …" She made a face. "Unsuitable, and I have asked them not to return. Others felt as I did, once they read the Lord Seeker's tome. We have since recruited a few candidates who are going through training now—with full disclosure. Naturally."

"Naturally," Thule agreed. "What comes next?"

She glanced at him, pressing her lips together thoughtfully. "I am not certain. I am … making it up as I go along. Clearly I have spent too much time with you."

"I don't seem to have done so badly making it up as I go along."

"You get yourself into a lot of trouble," she observed.

"And I get back out of it with my wit and charm."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes, looking for a sharp retort, but then relented, smiling. "So you do." The pensive look came back to her face. "I just want to build something that is worthy of lasting."

"You will. I have every faith in you."

"I know you do. That knowledge has carried me through more situations than I care to count."

"Has it?" Thule sat up, pleased, resting his head against her shoulder. "That makes me happy."

"You make me happy. As mad as our lives have been, I would take any chance to be together."

"As would I." Gently he pulled her toward him until he could kiss her. Whatever trouble these past years had brought him, they were worth it to be with her.