The fresh snow gleamed blinding white in the moonlight, undisturbed in a way that made his light footfalls crunch slightly on the surface. She followed not far behind, her own steps hesitant. His fingers splayed, flames leaping to life at the brazier as he turned toward her. Evelyn stood with her wounded arm cradled, her knees turned inward, guarded. The injuries she'd sustained were healing, bruising growing lighter with each passing day, yet the aches remained. Tonight, while she'd rested in the command center, something extraordinary had occurred. The people, gathered in their shabby ranks, huddled against the freezing code, had sung a hymn. It was a hymn he'd heard before, the verses varied from generation to generation, yet the underlying meaning remained the same. Up and until this point, Evelyn Trevelyan had been simply a symbol, a story they told and only half-believed. Her legend was so much more than she could ever live up to be. With the simple matter of her resurrection from the grave, however, she had become so much more. The people believed in her power, in her divinity. They would follow her wherever she deigned to lead them.
There was opportunity in this.
"All apologies for taking you away," he began. She gave a short laugh in response.
"I don't mind. I felt as if they were about to crown me."
"They still might," Solas smiled slightly. "I wanted to speak to you alone."
"Yes," she replied softly. "I thought you might."
"The orb of which you spoke, the one Corypheus carried. It is elvhen."
Her eyes widened. "Oh."
"Yes. My fear is how people will react if they learn of its origin."
"Solas," she shook her head, frown forming. "I told you, I will do whatever I have to in order to ensure your safety."
"It isn't simply my safety I'm concerned for, Herald. But, thank you." Solas flexed his fingers toward the flame.
"I'm concerned for everyone right now. I haven't any idea where we go from here."
The smile appeared again. "I know where we go from here. We only need you to lead them. Rest, now. We'll set out in the morning."
She stepped backward, rocking unassuredly on her heels.
"Was there something else?" he asked.
"No," she said, the word sounding more like a question, "I had just thought..." Then, more firmly, "Nothing. I'm just tired. Thank you, Solas."
He watched her turn and make her way to the encampment, simultaneously praying and fearing that she would look back.
The days grew ever shorter as the mountain region entered winter. It had seemed to Solas that this region remained in perpetual winter, marked only by the slight increase in snow and chilling wind. They'd dwelled within these walls almost two weeks now, the bricks covered by elaborate scaffolding and cloth as the structure was re-invented. The Herald of Andraste was now Inquisitor Trevelyan, their rebellion was now a force to be reckoned with, they had been elevated to the level of legitimacy, and new recruits arrived daily, scrambling to find places to lay bedding. Solas had found his own place within the fortress, not far from the main hall. It was reasonably quiet, adjacent to the library, and spacious enough for his studies. It was in that library he stood, scanning the document before him. With irritation he lit another candle, fighting against the fading sunlight to finish his work. It had been mere hours since they found the astrarium, marking the star pattern Dorian Pavus had pigheadedly insisted was known as "Equinor."
Did that grouping truly look like a horse to his ilk?
Since their journeys had uncovered these star-gazing instruments, The Inquisitor had taken a particular interest in the sky maps, often interrupting his work to ask him again to show her how to read the charts. Once he had suggested that she might be better satisfied by asking one of the mage scholars, but the crestfallen look on her face had convinced him that she was not happy with that solution. He wondered idly if perhaps that sharp-tongued elf on the floor above him was rude to her. He didn't dare imagine another reason she would so readily seek his counsel instead. Their conversations of late had become more intense, possessing a depth that surprised him.
Solas gently blew a puff of air over the vellum, hoping to speed the drying of his ink. The sun had set, and tonight there was no moon. Perhaps this would be a good time to tell her the story of these stars. A time to tell her… to tell her a great many things.
He ran the pad of this thumb over the small halla sketched in the lower right corner of the page. With consummate care, he rolled the vellum and secured it with string. Gathering up two larger books on elven lore and his folded star chart, he made for the hall. The door to the private wing stood ajar and he wondered if perhaps she had retired to her personal desk for the evening. All the better. Her balcony held the clearest view, unobstructed by thick glass or firelight.
Josephine exited the chamber door and closed it tightly behind her, startling slightly at the sight of him, arms full of materials. The ambassador surveyed his belongings slowly, then shook her head at him, a frown on her lips.
"The Inquisitor has received a missive from Field Marshall Savaugne. She is called to the Western Approach at first light. This is a delicate matter which requires her full attention." Josephine once again regarded his books and paper. "Whatever this is can wait. Leave her be."
Solas returned to his study and extinguished the lamp, the candle beside it.
Leave her be.
Yes. Perhaps that was the best advice.
He hoped he would follow it.