Cassandra saw her coming before Cullen. She knew that steady trot, that flash of orange hair. That Ser Yorric and Ser Cadwin had allowed her to leave must have meant that Solas had given her back her freedom. While the five templars Finley had recruited had proved fiercely loyal to the Inquisition—they'd even brought in some more from their order into the fold, as time ticked forward—they were also still firm in their beliefs about upholding the purpose of the Templar Order.

With the Herald whispering about voices, minds had gone to demons, and so they had volunteered to watch over her, to make sure she did not become an abomination. Every day, they had stood guard, ignoring the skeptical looks that some of the followers had given them. Some had whispered that the templars were just looking for an excuse to slay a mage.

If they'd heard those rumors, they never said, never flinched.

Cassandra personally thought that they had stood guard because they were sure they wouldn't have to draw their blades, and they'd wanted to make sure no one else acted preemptively. After all, Finley was the only reason they'd received their second chance.

She couldn't say with certainty, though.

She'd talked to Ser Yorric on a few separate occasions and had found him to be not at all what she'd expected. He rarely spoke of mages or the mage/templar war at all, instead investing his time in helping to train recruits—when he wasn't assisting with Finley, of course.

Further, he seemed to deal well enough with the few mages who had dared to come to the Inquisition's banner and offer their aid.

"Someone is here to see you, Commander," she said, smirking when he paused to look over his shoulder. He paled. She hit him lightly with her shield. "You had to have expected this."

He had been so distraught over his actions with the red lyrium, of having 'allowed' himself to get so entranced that he had left the Herald to be poisoned by it, mere paces behind him, that he hadn't known what to do, even after she regained consciousness. Once he'd known she would live—despite being told she would, he'd had his doubts—he had found ways to busy himself, with never enough time to visit.

Cassandra had caught him about an hour after sunset one day and dragged him along, figuring that he would kill himself if he kept up this mad drive, assuming it was some form of repentance. He'd stopped her just short of the door, pulling away, admitting that if the Herald became an abomination, he wouldn't be able to handle it, especially if he saw her like that. His memories from Kinloch Hold were becoming more vivid, and he couldn't see her if she became a mirror to those horrid images.

It would break him.

After pointing out that if she was going to fall to demons, it would likely have already happened, he'd reluctantly agreed to go the last few paces. They'd nodded to the guards and pushed the door open, only to stop in the doorway.

Sera and Finley had been passed out on the small cot, with Varric seated in the chair, leaning against the bed, asleep as well. Sera had been above the covers, with one arm flung across the Herald's waist, curled up against her, head on the Herald's shoulder. There had been an old book open. Likely, it had been in the Herald's lap before she'd fallen over into her dreams.

By the time Cassandra had turned around, whispering that they ought to leave them be, she'd found herself alone.

They hadn't talked about why he'd left like he had, but she had an inkling. While there was still tension between the two of them, as time ticked on, she'd noticed that the cause seemed to be shifting.

She'd read enough romance novels to see where this was going.

He wiped the cold sweat from his brow with his practice leathers, sheathing his sword and shouldering his shield. Cassandra did the same, and the two of them met Finley at the edge of the training area. His hands rested on his blade's hilt, a bit too casually.

"Herald." He nodded when she stopped in front of them.

The wind had added a touch of rose to her cheeks, nose, and ears, but she seemed to be in brighter spirits than Cassandra had seen her in the last few days. There'd even been a bit of a bounce in her step.

"Finley," Cassandra said, a quick nod following.

She nodded quickly in return. As she straightened up, the wind swept around them, sending chills through Cassandra and Cullen. Finley just closed her eyes and leaned into it. As soon as it had passed, though, her eyes were glued to Cullen.

"So then. You've recovered well?"

"I told you before that I was fine," he mumbled, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. He tried to turn the conversation away from himself. "Should you be out of bed?"

"I should have been out of it three days ago, but the Inquisition insisted on caging me," she crossed her arms, feigning horror. "To whom do I express my distaste?"

"Josephine, most likely," Cassandra offered, smiling. When Finley grinned at her, Cassandra straightened up a bit, "Speaking of our ambassador, we have news. We were going to tell you tonight, but seeing as you're here…" She noticed Cullen had taken a step or two back, like he might leave the ladies to catch up and bury himself in some paperwork or something equally time consuming. "Why not summon the others for a proper war meeting?"

"More rifts?" Finley asked, head cocked.

"More allies," Cullen said, before Cassandra could. A small grin tugged on the scar on his lip. "We've finally managed to track down where most of Ferelden's and Orlais' templars have gone. We reached out, and they reached back."

"The Lord Seeker is leading them, still, and wanted to speak with you, personally," Cassandra added, shifting a little as the rush from combat practice left her, making the next gust of wind all the colder. "He insisted you come in person."

"Ah, so a trap then?" Finley uncrossed her arms and tugged on her gloves, making sure they were in place. They couldn't see her bandages beneath her sleeve, but both of them were well aware of its presence.

"I don't think it is," Cullen murmured, shifting his feet a little.

Cassandra nodded. "It is strange, but the lord seeker was always a good man. Perhaps he has come around to reason. Regardless, if we accept the invitation, we will be sure to take every precaution." Even as Finley's gaze grew foggy, no doubt drumming up memories of the man who had ordered the templars to abandon Val Royeaux, she added, "Also… Leliana will explain it more, but the mages have reached out to us, as well."

"We do not need to ally ourselves with an unstable faction," Cullen snapped, almost instantly. His usual grim countenance had returned. "The goal is to close the Breach, not make it worse with abominations running amok."

Cassandra gave him a cross look, resting a hand on her hip. "We will discuss all of our options."

When she looked back at Finley, she saw a flicker of something in her eyes… mistrust?

Perhaps their relationship wasn't heading quite where Cassandra had mused it would.

Letting out a slow puff of frozen air, Finley nodded slowly. "To work, then."