A/N: I didn't meet my word count for NaNo WriMo this year, but I did get quite a few chapters drafted, so posting should resume on Wednesdays next week. Thank you so much to every who reads, and feel free to let me know what you think!

...-...

Finley picked up her pace as she hurried across the ramparts. She'd learned a long time ago not to look back, but a part of her sorely wished to see just who it was who was following her. It didn't feel like a templar, but that hardly meant they wouldn't hurt her if they caught up, and something in her mind whispered that if they caught up, they would hurt her.

She'd grown rather accustomed to trusting such intuition in the Wilds, and so she picked up her pace again, trying not to look worried.

Where was a guard when one was needed?

Even as she wondered, she looked ahead and saw a familiar figure leaning against the battlements to inspect the valley beyond and felt a wave of relief. Breaking into something just shy of a jog, she breached the space between them quickly.

"Commander Rutherford," Finley greeted him, trying not to look too relieved that he was there.

He sensed it anyway, giving her a rather lopsided grin. One of his hands moved to scratch at the back of his neck. "Herald…well, Inquisitor now, isn't it?"

Finley shrugged a little, fingers moving to work on her braid. It had been too long since she'd seen him last and she was surprised by just how glad she was that he was the one she'd run into first.

Even as she thought of what she might say to convey the thoughts tumbling about in her head, that prickling sensation of being watched came back in force. With a shudder, her shoulders tensed. "I'm being followed."

At that, the commander stood a little taller, looking past her, frown sweeping over his features. He moved as though to go past her, to walk her path and find the culprit. Reaching out, she lightly caught his arm. He glanced back at her, amber eyes softening.

"I don't see anyone."

The sensation of being watched felt further away, less focused than before.

Letting her hand trail down his arm, she hesitated. "Perhaps we could still head in? I imagine there's a lot for me to catch up on here."

Commander Rutherford nodded, glancing back one more time as though he might still go looking for whoever had been tailing her, and then turned, motioning the way she'd been going. "I've finally gotten my office set up, if you'd like to talk in there."

The walk was surprisingly short, and Finley was a bit surprised how disappointed she was by that. The feeling of being watched was completely gone now. For the first time, she dared a glance back, only to see stone and mortar, as it should be.

Shifting a little, she turned back to Commander Rutherford. He was shuffling through a few reports already. "Has a lot happened while I was gone?"

"Of course," he sighed, giving her an apologetic look. As she wandered closer, letting her fingers trail on the edge of the table all the papers were stacked upon—they looked far neater than his outdoor command center had been, almost as though they were back in Haven.

She stopped when she was beside him, staring blankly down at the pages in his hands, not really caring about any of them. Before she could muster a question to at least feign interest—if she didn't seem interested now, he'd probably call for an official war meeting, and it would be a shame to have one so soon, seeing as she'd just gotten back, and could use an hour of a breather—he let the papers drop back onto the desk and turned to her.

Even as she looked up at him, a witty comment about shirking his duties died on her tongue. One of his hands came up, brushing her hair back so that he could cup her cheek, eyes warm as he searched hers. "I missed you."

Finley blinked, a little taken aback by his forwardness.

However, she couldn't say that she really minded.

Turning her head slightly, she ghosted a kiss against his palm. "Did you now?"

That smile of his returned tenfold, the skin around his eyes crinkling. "Looks like you missed me, too."

"My mind may have…wandered, occasionally."

He leaned down toward her, his nose brushing against hers. "Oh?"

His hands were around her waist, slipping up underneath her shirt. She was a bit surprised by how much she wanted this. It was so…

Head tilting, she was already moving to kiss him when he did the same, and he claimed her with such ferocity. It…

It didn't match the pressure against her lips.

With a frustrated sigh, she pulled away from him, realizing rather easily what was happening. "This just doesn't work when you're a dream."

She could have sworn her dream commander gave her an apologetic look as he disappeared, and the world twisted back into the usual half-form of the Fade.

Opening her eyes, Finley stared up into the tree branches above her. It had been a long time since she'd dreamt about anyone in such a manner, and her mind wandered back through the dream, replaying what had happened and leaving her more than a little flustered.

It had been such a welcome…distraction. To be held, to feel skin against skin, to not have to worry about anything as the present swept her up in a rush.

She missed that.

But for it to have been Commander Rutherford was a bit odd.

Granted he'd been in her dreams lately, a quiet protector, a friendly shoulder, a savior of sorts, but this was the first time her mind had ever taken such a…drastic turn.

It really didn't make sense.

Finley had always been so good about keeping her distance from templars. Though… Commander Rutherford wasn't a templar any longer. And the way his hair curled when it was messed up and the stubble on his chin and…everything about him really was so damned appealing.

When had that started?

Even as she considered all the different times she had been thinking of him lately, a soft, muffled gasp caught her attention. Peering down carefully, she saw two lovers entwined with one another at the base of the tree she'd decided to rest in, obviously unaware of her presence.

Not wishing to intrude upon them, she quietly slipped to far side of the trunk and carefully dropped down through the branches until she was on the ground, the tree still between her and the duo who had woken her.

Circle mages, if the two haphazardly tossed aside robes were any indication.

As she wound her way away from them and back toward the camp—she could always sneak into her tent and pretend she'd been there the whole night, though at this point people might be more surprised to see her coming out of a tent rather than out of the woods in the morning—she found herself surprisingly resentful of the two's activities.

It wasn't that they had woken her up—or even that they'd sent her dreams in a rather risqué direction with the commander as her focus—but rather their actions were a reminder of how long it had been for her.

With all of the madness that had overtaken her life the last few months, she'd barely had time to think of anything other than the impending doom that was sure to descend upon her at any moment.

Now, however, as much as she wanted to stay wary, it seemed less and less likely that she would be skewered anytime soon. While sex had crossed her mind a time or two at Haven and even on the trek to Skyhold, she'd been a little too preoccupied with not getting murdered to actively consider finding someone to warm her bed. However, it was becoming more and more clear that her established power would protect her to some extent, and as those raging fears died down, different emotions made her restless and longing for companionship, even something fleeting.

Especially something fleeting.

She'd long since sworn off serious relationships, as the only three she'd ever been in had ended on rather miserable terms—both mages she'd fallen for had turned into abominations, and she rather liked to forget her third blunder all together.

Yes, if she was to fall into something in Skyhold, it would need to be something uncomplicated and easy to untangle from.

For the rest of their trip back to Skyhold, Finley found her mind wandering again and again to that nagging loneliness, that need to be caressed and held, if only for a little while.

It was maddening.

More so, especially, when she finally gave in and tried to think who might make a good partner for something so casual, only to have her mind constantly wandering back to Commander Rutherford.

It was ridiculous to even consider him. He still had that templar feel about him, even if it was muted, and even if he didn't, he was afraid of magic. Or at least unnerved by it. To literally get into bed with someone afraid of oneself was…demeaning.

Though…

It wasn't like it would be serious.

They could have their fun and once the rifts were sealed, she would head back to her Wilds, and he would lead the armies on to destroy Corypheus. After all, it wasn't like she'd be needed for that fight.

Though…she wouldn't want to just abandon her friends…

This is why Donovan never had any. He was right in all his lectures about how they complicated things. She couldn't imagine abandoning Sera or Bull or Varric at this point, and had already made up her mind that she would only leave them before the end if being near her became too dangerous, if the templars turned on her or something of that nature.

They were all dear to her, and she could see that slipping into a relationship with any of them would end with her overly attached, which wouldn't do at all. She was going to go home to the Wilds when this was done—assuming she lived through it—and she couldn't expect any of these people to simply abandon their lives to go live with her in the untamed wilderness that she loved so.

Templars were out for obvious reasons, and mages…

She'd rather not have a third abomination ex-lover.

Even if this was to be casual, the whole thing with Aubrey had left her a bit paranoid that any mage she fancied would end up possessed by something—while 'her' demon had possessed Aubrey, it had been a pride demon that had taken her first lover during the Blight. He'd always promised her that he would keep her safe no matter what, and so, when their position had been overrun by darkspawn, and several ogres were heading their way, he'd given in to temptation to give her and the few others with them time to run. Stories were that he held that position for over an hour by himself before the darkspawn finally over took him.

She didn't really know how much of that to believe, considering as no one could have actually stayed back to watch his misguided attempt at heroism. While it was true enough that they had gotten away, Finley was still sure that they could have held out long enough for reinforcements to get there.

If they'd just worked together instead of him deciding he would carry the burden for all their safety—for hers—alone…

Sometimes she wondered if she might be cursed, though the only time she'd ever dared to bring it up to anyone had been once with Donovan, and he'd told her she just had terrible taste in partners. She chose weak mages and manipulative bastards.

And his point had been fair.

She'd already sworn off bringing emotions into intimate relationships before their little conversation, and his summary of her past follies reinforced her resolve.

The problem, then, was that she would always come back to Skyhold, and with relative frequency that made casual flings with multiple people somewhat awkward. Dorian had taken to explaining politics to her during their return trip with the mages—he was wonderfully subtle about it, too, making sure that the other mages didn't hear him offering her advice and the like. It was appreciated, too, as she didn't doubt people would be disappointed to know just how little she knew of their political workings.

Through these explanations, she'd surmised that she could damage the Inquisition's standing should she come off as somewhat of a…she couldn't remember what Dorian had called it, but if she were to enter into too many flings, it would be frowned upon, and sleeping with guards or cooks or maids might be tricky as well.

Something about imbalance of power and the like.

That little voice in the back of her head had pointed out that Commander Rutherford had plenty of power with his station in the Inquisition, so it likely wouldn't be a problem if the two of them had a bit of fun, but…

To be completely honest, what made her the most uneasy about entering into a relationship with him was the very fact that he came to mind so quickly as soon as her thoughts headed in a more sexual direction.

She rather liked him.

And while part of her was excited by the mere thought of tugging him into a dark corner and wrapping herself around him, the more sensible part of her feared that if she did pursue him, she would end up too involved.

Which would be foolish at best.

After all, her relationships never worked out, and he was a former templar, and he didn't like magic…

And when the snow caught in his hair and made it start to curl, she wanted nothing more than to run her fingers through it and set those curls free. And when she watched him spar with his lieutenants to show the recruits what they needed to work towards, he was quite becoming. The way his voice rose and fell and just imagining his large, calloused hands working their way across her skin…

Her horse let out an indignant snort as though it could see what was in her mind and found her thoughts to be erring on the side of vulgar. Even as she glanced down at the beast to see it eyeing her from over its shoulder, one of the stable boys was there, hands out to take the reins from her only to hesitate when he realized she wasn't holding them.

She swung down from the beast and let the young man get ahold of it, even as he glanced back at her looking more than a little confused.

She hated horses.

There were beasts in the Wilds that resembled them, though she only cared for a few of them, as they were quite wild and quite dangerous. Smarter than people and—if one believed the Chasind legends—older than mankind all together.

Horses, though, they were too…

Not what she was used to. They needed too much direction, and those saddles were a nightmare.

Miserable things. What self-respecting creature let that sort of restraint onto themselves willingly?

"Herald Finley."

The fluttering in her stomach made her hesitate to turn toward the owner of that handsome voice, though she did so before he could call her name again.

Funny how just a few months ago, she had tried to pretend she couldn't hear him.

"Commander."

He stood near the entrance to the barn, wearing his usual Skyhold attire—that surcoat and a simple tunic and breaches, though they looked considerably more durable than the ones he'd worn when she left.

Their contacts must have come through for them with resources.

Commander Rutherford looked quite handsome, as usual, and she found her gaze wandering a little, though it snapped back to meet his when he began to talk. "I see you've brought some allies."

His tone was…it was not unkind, but it did sound a little worried.

Suddenly, Finley wasn't sure if she was glad to be back in Skyhold or not. She'd been so ready to be somewhere even remotely familiar and far away from the Circle—horrible place, that—but now it felt like it might prove just as unnerving as anywhere else in this miserable 'civilized' world.

The looks that had been cast her way as she led a veritable army of mages into the valley and straight to the old castle had given her a bit of pause, but she'd done her best to keep her expression neutral, and to remind herself that as the Herald and soon to be Inquisitor, there were people who would support her decisions.

Hawke had.

It felt odd to wish the man present when he was such a huge, bumbling creature that attracted attention from every direction with each step, yet she considered she might have appreciated his overwhelming personality just about now.

It would have been a nice distraction from the fearful looks.

Hawke, however, had parted ways with them almost as soon as they'd recruited the mages. He'd left his steed for the grand enchanter so that she could 'ride in style', and had headed off to Crestwood to meet a warden contact.

Part of her wished she'd gone with him, though that was mostly because Isabela had said their contact was none other than the man who had slain the archdemon. Finley sorely wanted to meet such a hero, and it must have been plain on her face, for Hawke had promised to bring his warden friend with him to Skyhold as soon as he was able. Varric and Isabela had accompanied him, promising to be back as soon as they could. They'd also left behind their horses, saying something about being less noticeable on mounts.

It had worked out well enough to give a few other mages rides. Finley had suggested they double up on their mounts to help, but then there was no way to get everyone onto a horse, and it was stressed that the more 'important' people needed to stand out.

She was getting tired of hearing that. Between her eyes and that damned mark on her hand, she stood out without any extra attempts.

Further, she half thought that Reinald had suggested she keep her horse as a way to get her to stop offering it to the other mages. They all seemed about as wary of her as the general public was of them.

Perhaps it was because she was an outsider to their world. They could bond through shared experiences, but much of what they talked about—even when they talked of templars, it was a different experience than what Finley had had—was too foreign for Finley to really relate to.

She had never been to a Circle in her life—never dared to leave her woods to go far enough north to see one, despite the curiosity that overcame her sometimes. While all accounts of the Circles were terrible, horrible things, tales of abuse and confinement, of lovers separated and friends lost, she had, on occasion, wondered if it would be so much worse than the Wilds.

Granted, after the Blight she hadn't thought that so much, but as a little girl, when the trees still held an ominous touch and she didn't know how to tell the rustling of wind in the leaves apart from the prowling of predators, the idea of a roof over her head and a place where she could get food had seemed rather appealing.

As she'd learned to survive in her own world, she'd slowly forgotten such wonders, only to have them stir whenever she crossed paths with a newly escaped Circle mage. They always spoke so hatefully of the Circles, and she'd come to believe herself one of the lucky ones to have never been confined so.

And yet…once in a rare while, she would wonder if the content mages didn't just stay in the Circles. Perhaps these few who fled to her Wilds were their own breed of mage, people who couldn't stand any kind of rule. Many of them certainly did revel in a certain amount of chaos.

What if only some of the Circles were bad? What if she could have grown up safe and sound?

Meeting Lady Vivienne had brought those wonders to the surface again, quiet whispers that perhaps she could have had a different life, a less stressful one. Lady Vivienne certainly didn't seem afraid of templars. She was always so poised, so calm and in control. It made her wonder…

Going so close to Kinloch Hold had killed any renewed curiosity in the Circles. She'd felt the place miles before they'd been close enough to see it. It was awash with magical energy, but not the natural kind. It felt forced, bound, skewed. Demons pressed so close to the Veil that she could hear their whispers from across the water, see the shimmer of the Veil around the upper reaches of the tower in particular.

That place was not safe.

How could mages be sent to such a place? How could they have voluntarily hidden there? Didn't they feel that magic ready to unravel around them? Were they simply so used to that oppressive atmosphere that they didn't notice it?

No.

Finley would never set foot in a Circle. Ser Caudry and Ser Ross had been right. She wasn't meant for places like that. She was meant for the wilder lands, where magic was free and so were its users.

And thus, she didn't know how to talk to the Rebel mages. They were so closely knit, and they spoke quietly among themselves, eyeing her when she was near just as surely as a templar would.

Well, as they did now.

Before the Conclave, the templars would have skewered her and the mages would have been suspicious at best. Any mage who immediately tried to be friends was usually a blood mage assuming she was one as well.

Now, though. The mages didn't know what to make of her, and she didn't know what to make of them. It would help everyone if they were a part of the Inquisition, though. She was sure of that.

And they had little ones with them.

Finley hadn't been sure what she would say to them until she'd heard about the little ones. At first she'd thought that perhaps they oughtn't to come to Skyhold at all, with the other templars en route. While, yes, she didn't want to be the one who drew so many templar gazes, she did have qualms with using mages who had never wronged her as distractions.

Mages like Marcus, of course, were another story. If one was enough of an ass, Finley had no problem setting the templars after them, particularly when she was sure they would likely outrun them.

These mages, though…

They didn't need to be so close to demons, especially the children. It would be better for them if they came to Skyhold.

In a more relaxed atmosphere, it was much easier to ignore demonic whispers, after all. Finley had learned that a long time ago.

However, even as they'd marched toward Skyhold, she couldn't help but wonder if her good intentions weren't leading them into a slaughter. If the templars reached Skyhold first, or if people mistook them for Venatori or if…

Rather abruptly, she sought a way to respond to Commander Rutherford's comment, not wanting to keep him waiting too long whilst she let her mind wander. "I said before I would bring the mages in."

Finley hoped she sounded sure of herself.

If she didn't, he made no indication. Instead, he simply nodded, gaze scanning the crowd milling about around them as though he expected to see familiar faces. He looked a bit relieved that he didn't.

As she considered that she was happy for him that whoever he worried might have been there wasn't, it hit her that she really was fond of the Commander. More importantly, however, that fondness had been there for a while, in her head and in her dreams, even if she had been dancing around it, pretending she merely found him pleasing to the eye.

She'd barely had a chance to grapple with this realization before another struck her. If her demon had figured out she was fond of the commander before she had—the damned thing was a desire demon—it might be going after him after all…

Even as he nodded again, still searching the crowd as though he might have missed a face or two, she hesitated, and leaned toward him. Now that she'd thought the demon might go after him, she couldn't help herself. "Commander. Have you been sleeping well?"

At that, his gaze snapped back to her, and his eyes widened with what she could swear to be a look of terror for just a moment before he was stuttering and stumbling through some vague explanation of why he didn't sleep that often anyway and how she needn't fret over him.

She wasn't quite sure why her question had panicked him so, but she figured that so long as she kept an eye on him, she would make sure he would be fine.

As it was, he clearly did not wish to discuss his sleeping habits with her—something that turned those earlier flutters into a bit of a pit, to be honest, though she shrugged it off.

"Herald Finley," he said again as he cleared his throat, his gaze darting around almost franticly as he changed the subject. "I realize you've just come in and you're likely tired, but perhaps we could have a word in private."

She'd forgotten how prettily the light played on his hair while she was gone. Reaching up to tuck some hair behind an ear, she wondered if she ought to redo her braid. He'd seen her with worse, though, so it probably didn't matter.

Her fingers instead found their way to her sleeve as she fiddled with it and nodded. "Of course. Of course I'll go with you, I mean. I'm not really that tired."

How she'd gone from uneasy around him to barely able to string a coherent thought together boggled her mind, though she didn't have long to overthink it.

He let out an awkward laugh, like he wasn't sure if he was supposed to or not at her comment, and then motioned for her to follow him. Even as she started to leave, she paused, lightly catching his arm. She could feel the muscles in his arm beneath his shirt.

Oh, but this was a torture of its own, wasn't it?

"I need to introduce you and the other advisors to someone first." When he hesitated, she turned back toward the stables, gaze scanning the figures until she saw who she was looking for. Lightly tugging Commander Rutherford back with her, she stopped when she was in front of the grand enchanter. After a few quick introductions, she looked up at Commander Rutherford expectantly. "Who would we need to talk to about housing and the like for Grand Enchanter Fiona and the other mages?"

"We're already working on that," the commander murmured, pausing to give the grand enchanter another nod. "We saw you coming up through the valley, so it gave us some time to prepare. All of the mages won't fit in the castle itself, but we will provide space for your people in the base camp."

"We will be split up," Grand Enchanter Fiona murmured.

"Not to worry," Leliana's voice interrupted, smooth and sweet as ever. Glancing over her shoulder, Finley saw the spymaster sauntering up through the bustling crowd, smile in place. "We will see to it that you, and any mages who wish to join the Inquisition, are welcomed and safe."

…-…

Finley was rather disappointed that Leliana's arrival had apparently thrown a kink in Commander Rutherford's plans, for once she was there, they all headed to Josephine's office, with Grand Enchanter Fiona in tow, and the commander never once brought up his need to speak with her again.

To keep herself from delving too deeply into why she would be so disappointed, she let her attention wander on the brisk walk through Skyhold, pausing every now and again to nod toward someone who gave her a bow—or a wave, in Dalish's case.

She had to say, the repairs to the castle were coming along nicely. Already, it looked so much…different than when they'd first found it. She supposed they'd probably consider it better, though she couldn't quite bring herself to call it that.

It looked so…organized. Domestic.

Even Josephine's office was different, with a few rugs imported from Antiva or Orlais or somewhere far off to brighten the room and all the creeping vines and mosses gone. Finley had liked it more before.

Despite all the changes, business seemed to move on as usual, somehow, and the advisors were quick to fall deep into discussion with Grand Enchanter Fiona, debating what ought to be done for the mages and how they might provide assistance to the Inquisition, and how to make sure Skyhold didn't feel like a Circle.

Finley didn't see how it could.

Even with the thinness of the Veil around Skyhold, somehow the spirits seemed to leave that place alone, unlike the Circles.

The creatures that had circled and watched Kinloch Hold whispered of unspeakable horrors that had gone on in those halls, and she was somewhat amazed that the mages staying there hadn't all gone mad.

They would have no such problems here, surely.

Though…there were a lot of templars.

After what had felt like hours, Grand Enchanter Fiona and Josephine had taken their leave to see about more immediate housing arrangements and talks that meant little to nothing to Finley. Both women had seemed pleased, at least.

As the door closed behind them, Leliana leaned forward, smiling at Finley. "You do not plan on leaving again tonight, I hope?"

Finley had almost forgotten how she'd practically stolen away in the dead of night last time so that she could go to the Mire. Shifting a little in her seat, she shook her head. "No, we found the scouts."

While Leliana simply smiled, Commander Rutherford frowned ever so slightly at her comment. Leliana did not give her time to ask him why he seemed displeased. "Good. We will announce your rise to Inquisitor tomorrow morning. There will be a little bit of ceremony, but I will walk you through anything you will need to know before that. For now, perhaps you would like to go to your quarters and rest. It would be understandable. You have, no doubt, had a long journey."

Even as Finley nodded, not quite sure where she was expected to sleep, the commander jumped to his feet. "You haven't really had a chance to see your lodgings, have you? I can take you there."

As she nodded, she paused, glancing around the room. In all the bustle and talks, she'd almost missed the fact that Cassandra was missing. "Will Cassandra be there tomorrow?"

"That…we cannot say," Leliana shook her head. "She is currently away dealing with an urgent matter."

"The Marcher templars?"

"You know of them?" Commander Rutherford asked, looking most earnestly worried. That sent a trill through her.

"All the mages know of them," she murmured. "We weren't sure if they would get here before us."

"Finley," Leliana said her name, and somehow, it made her uneasy, "Please do not worry about such things. Cassandra is good at handling this sort of thing."

With that, she excused herself to tend to other matters, and Finley was alone with Commander Rutherford.

Finally.

It bothered her almost instantly that she'd be so relieved by that fact. They stood there a moment before he awkwardly motioned for her to follow him. They wound their way back to the main hall and through it. A few small clusters of people dotted the areas free of scaffolding, and each of them wished to speak with her, though Commander Rutherford was quite good at explaining how she would speak with them later.

Once they'd gone past an awkward looking chair and started up a winding tower stairway, silence settled over them. As they continued up, she felt the occasional muted prickle of his gaze wandering over to her.

Finally, felt too smothered by the silence. As she began picking at her braid, she glanced over at him. "You wanted to speak with me earlier?"

"I, uh, yes," he said, a little surprised. "Perhaps when we get to your room?"

Though she glanced around the stairway, looking for any signs of spells that might be used for spying and finding none, she simply nodded. "Have things been well here while I was gone?"

"They have," he nodded. "We have more people coming in every day. I…I'm using that room we found as my office now."

"Oh, good," she smiled and could swear that he nearly missed the next step as he watched her.

He seemed nervous.

Were things with the templars going worse than Leliana had implied? Was that what he'd wanted to talk to her about?

Was it her? Her magic? They were a long way from anyone else, though…he'd seemed to not mind the two of them being alone before…

Before she knew it, he was holding a door open for her. She felt another shiver run through her as she stepped past him into the room. She liked when he held doors open for her. While he was just being nice, it still made her feel…special.

Though, it made sense. As Herald and soon to be Inquisitor, that probably did make her 'special' to just about everyone, though not in the sense she wanted.

"Would you…" Commander Rutherford's voice pulled her out of her musings, and she turned to see he was still standing in her doorway. When he saw he had her attention, he cleared his throat. "If you'd like some time to change or freshen up, I would understand."

That gave her pause. Dorian had said something about this sort of thing, though she couldn't remember half of his helpful insights.

She was supposed to accept these sorts of offers, though, wasn't she?

"I…suppose that would be nice," she replied, the words a little forced.

With an almost relieved sigh, he nodded and turned to go. "I'll have someone bring up bath water for you. If you'd like, we could discuss things after you've had a chance to have something to eat and…"

She didn't really listen to what else he had to say. She was a bit too disappointed that he seemed so eager to leave already.

Perhaps if she wanted to have a dalliance, it would need to be with someone else after all.