It was good to be back in Skyhold.

Donovan had met with her after her group had returned to the castle, warning her that she would be far safer in the Wilds, instead of playing hero and with templars and nobility. He'd lectured her on how the world was never going to change, how there would always be people like King Cousland, who would make sure that mages would never be free.

When she'd tried to explain she couldn't just leave, Donovan had given her his usual scowl and then handed her a several folded papers.

King Cousland's documents on her.

They were written by Ser Caudry, and she'd remembered feeling a small bubble of relief. He would never write anything wicked about her.

However, while he hadn't painted her as some monster, she had been disappointed at how dry his words were. She knew he was capable of such amazing stories, and so to read something that stated the facts as concisely as possible had been…weird.

After all, Varric's reports were always fantastical—and normally exaggerated.

In this, Ser Caudry sounded like every other templar.

It was a simple documentation of when he'd found her in the woods after putting a stop to her parents' killing spree. He talked of the discoloration in her eyes and how traumatized she was. He guessed at her age—she'd heard them talk about that before, but this had an actual date to put things in perspective—and said that she might not be capable of being rehabilitated so that she could function in society.

He was asking his superiors what he should do with her.

He presented that there was a 'very real possibility of possession', which hurt to read, though she knew that he'd dismissed that during their years together.

Still, that he had taken one look at her and suspected a monster…

Maybe he'd just said that so that they could have a reason to keep her with them.

"It's fireproof, and I couldn't tear it," Donovan had said, interrupting her musings.

"Enchanted?"

"Likely. I'd take it with me back to the Wilds, but I've a feeling you'd rather keep it with you instead."

His guess had been true enough. If something happened to him in the Wilds, whoever had caught him would be able to get ahold of her secrets. It would be better to hide it somewhere where she could check on it regularly, to make sure it was still there.

She'd almost asked him if he'd read it, but seeing as he looked at her the same as he always had, she dismissed it. He'd never been a curious sort.

And so she had taken it back to Skyhold, paranoid the whole way whenever someone drew close, more so because the king didn't mention the document being missing before they left. She'd wanted to talk to Cullen about it, but he'd been so distraught the night she went to him, and then Josephine had hounded her to go over what had happened and how well she'd done and what she could do to improve dealing with nobles.

They'd reached the castle in the dead of night, and Finley's first priority had been to slip away from her advisors and find a good hiding place for her past.

Truly, things were going well. The past was safely hidden and they'd secured the aid of their first real country ally. That had to be good for something.

Josephine was optimistic that the Free Marches would reach out next, and possibly Nevarra. From what they could tell, the rifts hadn't reached Antiva, Rivain, or the Anderfels. Whether there were any in Tevinter remained to be seen.

However, it felt…quantifiable.

There were only so many places she would have to go, and then she would be free to disappear back into her Wilds, guilt free.

Even as she thought it, she heard Cullen's voice mumble something she couldn't quite make out. As he spoke, his arm tightened around her and she felt his breath on the back of her shoulder. Turning carefully under his arm, she found him still asleep. When she snuggled up closer to him, his brow furrowed, and he said something else that she couldn't make out.

"Hmm?"

Her voice was a soft hum, and he seemed to hear her, though he didn't wake up. Instead, he moved his head so that his forehead touched hers, and mumbled slightly louder. None of it made sense, and she couldn't help but bite her lip to stop from laughing.

She'd heard about people talking in their sleep, but she'd never met anyone who did it before.

She nudged her nose against his, freeing her arm and reaching up to play with a few stray curls as Cullen kept mumbling.

When they'd gotten in, he'd stayed up to make sure things were getting done and everyone was settling in before coming up to his room.

She'd meant to wait up for him, but had fallen asleep on his bed—after hiding that wretched report, of course. Finley had woken up briefly when he'd slipped the sheets over her and laid beside her, arm draped over her. It had been a long time since she'd just slept with someone like this. There was an intimacy that made her heart flutter. She'd fallen back asleep to the feel of his lips pressed to her shoulder and the soft sounds of his breathing.

Her fingers trailed along the side of his face from his hair to his chin and then down his chest. Since that night in Denerim, where he'd broken down crying, there had been something different about him.

Something different between them.

She couldn't put words to it, didn't want to. If she did, she knew she'd have to cut this off before it could go too far, and she wasn't ready to do that just yet.

"Finley…"

She blinked out of her thoughts and looked back up at Cullen to see that he was still asleep, still mumbling.

There was no harm in taking comfort in another's presence for a little while, so long as she didn't get too attached.

She could feel the world slipping away as sleep drew her in in a way that was so rare for her.

"Finley."

"Hmm?" She lazily pressed a kiss against Cullen's nose, smiling at how he said her name in his sleep.

"Finley."

This time she paused. Cullen had been mid-mumble when her name was called, and as she woke up again, she came to a rather unsettling realization.

That wasn't Cullen's voice calling her.

Opening one eye slowly, she froze, breath sucked in sharply, to see someone leaning over Cullen to stare at her. Even as she readied a spell, hands came up in surrender, and she finally recognized those blue, blue eyes.

"I need to warn you."

His voice was low and pleading.

Glancing at Cullen to make sure he was still asleep, Finley sighed. Moving carefully, she untangled herself from him. The fact that he needed his rest aside, she had a feeling that he wouldn't appreciate waking up to see a spirit right next to him.

When she had tugged the sheets up around Cullen to keep him warm, she finally turned to Cole, who had come around to the far side of the bed to meet with her.

He started in on his usual unnerving ramblings, but Finley simply held a finger to her lips and then pointed to the ladder. "Down."

Cole simply disappeared, and she grudgingly buttoned up her shirt again and then headed down the ladder herself. The spirit was waiting for her in the commander's office, though she ushered him outside and to the entrance of the rotunda. The shadows there would give them plenty of cover from any wandering gazes of the guards.

"What is it?"

"Lady Vivienne is angry with me," Cole whispered, catching on that she didn't want anyone to hear them.

Finley stared at him, the wheels in her head starting off slowly and then picking up speed. "You showed yourself to her?"

"She didn't forget."

Closing her eyes, Finley leaned back against the archway behind her and covered her face with her hands. "Did you talk to Solas?"

"He said to talk to you."

Taking in a slow breath, Finley considered what to do. Talking Vivienne into just putting up with Cole seemed…unlikely. As did getting her to keep him a secret. A mage hiding a creature from the Fade was the last thing she wanted getting out, but then…a mage associating with a creature from the Fade wasn't something she wanted people to know either.

"I'm sorry."

Finley was alone when she looked up, and she felt a pang of guilt that Cole must have read her thoughts.

Despite the unease she still felt around him from time to time, she hadn't wanted to hurt him. And to know that one was a dirty secret to be hidden away…

She'd never known the pain herself, but she'd had plenty of friends in the Wilds who had such stories. The loneliness that overcame them when they talked about their past dealings was something she never wanted someone else to feel.

"I'm sorry, too," Finley whispered into the air. She stood there a moment to see if Cole would come back and then quietly slipped back into Cullen's tower.

As she made the short trek, she considered her options. Vivienne would likely paint Cole in a bad light, which would paint her in a bad light. She needed to handle this carefully.

Cullen might know what to do. He was cautious when it came to magic, but he trusted her, didn't he?

She trusted him. That brought the butterflies back, though they fluttered anxiously this time. Misplacing trust ended disastrously, and she'd been down that road before.

Absently, she reached to rub the scar on the back of her neck, standing at the base of the ladder.

Cullen was a good man. He was.

She could tell him, couldn't she?

She shook her head as she made her way back to him, knelt on the bed and reached out to shake Cullen awake.

However, when she saw him laying there, asleep, her hand stilled.

He looked so peaceful and handsome, chest rising and falling slowly, hair a mess of wild curls. The tension was gone from him as he slept, and she didn't want to take that from him.

She wanted to run her fingers through his hair and curl up with him. She could wait until morning for this, couldn't she?

Her fingertips were tracing his jawline when she remembered how often scouts came in with unexpected news, and wondered if Vivienne would call for him in such a manner. He'd probably let her sleep through it, and then…

Then he'd find out from someone else about Cole.

Shaking his shoulder gently, she waited until he groaned and asked what time it was. "I need to tell you something."

Cullen sat up slowly, taking her hand in his and kissing her palm, sleep still heavy in his eyes. "Is everything alright?"

A part of Finley's mind told her to get near the ladder, to be ready to flee if things went awry. She shook it off and told herself not to be paranoid. Things would be alright.

This was Cullen.

Her hesitation had allowed him time to wake up more, attention focusing on her. He reached out to her, drawing her closer. Cupping her cheek in a large calloused hand, he peered at her carefully. "What's wrong?"

"Well, it's not exactly wrong…" Finley winced a little at her phrasing. She was just making things worse, wasn't she? There was no reason to mince words. This was Cullen. "There's a spirit in Skyhold—"

Immediately Cullen was out of bed. As he tugged on his trousers, he didn't even look back at her. "Do you know where it is? What it is?"

"Well, his name is Cole—" She cut herself off this time as Cullen turned sharply to stare at her, incredulity plastered to his face. Somehow, his gaze felt more like a templar's than it ever had. Finley fought back the urge to shudder. "He's a good spirit. He helps—"

Cullen's expression shifted so quickly that it was hard to follow, though she could make out disbelief, disappointment, and then anger.

Her heart sank as he settled on that last emotion.

"There is a thing wandering these halls, and you're friendly enough with it to give it a name?"

"He gave himself that name," Finley said before she could stop herself. Then she quickly slipped off the bed and stepped toward Cullen. If she could just talk to him. He was such a reasonable sort.

The hardness that spread across his face made her stop in her tracks. Trying not to let her fear get the best of her, she stood a little straighter. "He helps people. He is a good spirit."

Cullen opened his mouth to respond and then snapped it shut, enough that she thought she could hear the clack of his teeth hitting each other. Then he began to pace, gaze flitting toward her occasionally.

He looked like a wild animal.

A predator.

Finally, he stopped, some of that sharp anger fading away to weariness. "Of course this would happen. You've never been Harrowed."

Finley had heard stories of Harrowing. Marcus said it happened when the Circles became too full. The templars would pick a few mages and feed them to demons to 'thin the herd'.

While Finley wasn't sure how much she believed Marcus' story, she did know that it had something to do with facing demons.

But what did that have to do with anything?

As if to answer her unspoken question, Cullen abruptly breached the distance between them. He brushed a few of her wild locks back and cupped her face in his hands. "Demons will say whatever they can to make you think they are harmless." His expression became earnest as he searched her face for something. "I know this."

Finley stared up at him, part of her understanding what was happening, though a larger part of her was too intent to deny it. Cullen was lecturing her on demons? That couldn't be it. She had proved herself.

He trusted her.

He tugged her closer, palms warm against her cheeks. "Demons cannot be trusted. You yourself said you avoid them when you can, so I can understand getting thrown by—"

"Of course I do!" she snapped, the reality of it finally sinking in. "Everyone with sense avoids demons! That doesn't mean I don't know what they're capable of!"

"Then how can you think—"

Tears burned her eyes, though she managed to keep them from falling. He was supposed to trust her. "Cole hasn't tried to pit anyone against anyone. There are no promises or attempts to win me over with 'gifts' or power. He just wants to help people. Ask Solas."

"Another unharrowed mage," Cullen murmured before something else clicked into place. His eyes narrowed, voice slightly lower when he spoke again. "Solas knows of this thing? He wasn't with us in Denerim… How long has it been around?"

The butterflies from earlier had turned into a pit in her stomach. Maybe she could just laugh it off, say it was a joke.

Though, that wouldn't stop Vivienne from telling Cullen later, would it?

"I met him in Therinfal Redoubt. He helped fend off red templars and the envy demon. At great personal risk!"

Cullen's mouth formed a thin line as he stared at her a hardness creeping into his expression. "Demons protect mages from other demons because they want to possess their target, not let them slip from their grasp into another's claws."

"Cole doesn't want to possess me!" Finley snapped. She had been careful around Cole, had watched him, had waited to see if he would start twisting things around, and he hadn't. "He doesn't need to possess anyone! He's already here! On his own! No body needed!"

This was not good.

Demons and spirits always made things fall apart—

No. This wasn't Cole's fault. He just wanted to help.

Why didn't Cullen trust her? She'd done everything right, everything they asked of her. She'd healed and helped and…

Cullen was staring at her, wide-eyed, jaw slack. His hands slipped away from her, arms falling to his sides. "There is a thing here in Skyhold, roaming free…" he trailed off before taking a step back. "Therinfal Redoubt…that was…months ago. You've been colluding with this thing, hiding it, for months!"

Finley bristled. "This is why! You think the templars would leave him be if they knew he was here? They'd kill him!"

"And why shouldn't they?" Cullen cried out, exasperated. "You don't know what its motivations are!"

"His name is Cole!"

"That demon can't be trusted!"

"Cole is as much a demon as I am a blood mage!"

Her words had been meant as a reassurance. Cole was a good sort, mistaken the same way she was. How many times had people decided she was a monster with a glance? Even Ser Caudry had had his doubts. How many templars had thought killing her would be better than 'risking' that she might be good?

She'd given Cole the benefit of the doubt, and he'd turned out to be good. He was. She was sure of it, wasn't she?

She peered up at Cullen, searching him for some hint of damned sense. Of trust.

Her words had been intended to draw a parallel between herself and Cole.

And they did.

She saw the fear flicker in his eyes, his foot slide back, putting more space between them.

Why?

Her own words echoed in her head, and she felt sick.

Was it really easier for him to think of her as a monster than to think of Cole as a force of good?

She didn't register bolting from his room or winding her way through the castle. All she could see was that terror in his eyes, the tension in his body, how he'd felt like a stranger standing in front of her, like someone had taken Cullen away and replaced him with…

A templar.

It wasn't until she heard her name called gently that she came out of her daze. Despite the panic that struck her that she'd been careless enough to let someone come up on her without her noticing, she saw Solas. Her mind was too numb to be relieved or wary, and so instead she simply stared up at him.

"Finley, are you hurt?"

"I'm not a blood mage." She hadn't meant to say that, but the words simply slipped out, a plea more than anything.

Withdrawing an outstretched hand, Solas nodded. "I know." He settled beside her, back against the wall. Looking around, still numb, she noted that she'd made her way into the bowels of Skyhold, into a small corner, not easily seen. How had he even found her?

Cole.

Her legs were already curled into herself, and she picked at a new tear in her pantlegs, barely able to see the bruise already forming beneath it. "How is Cole?"

"Fretting over you."

"I upset him," Finley whispered.

"He will be fine, though I'm sure he will be happy to know you are worried about him."

"Cu—the commander knows about him." She couldn't say Cullen's name.

"That is probably for the best."

"He insists Cole is a demon and thinks we're both fools because we trust him."

Solas frowned.

Finley hesitated, and then slumped her shoulders. "And Vivienne knows, and Cole is scared."

"We should speak with Leliana," Solas said, pushing himself up to his feet, "before the commander, if possible."

He offered her his hand, and she took it, letting him pull her to her feet.

She didn't want to tell anyone else. Cullen was the one person she trusted the most here, and he'd… If all the advisors reacted the same, what would happen? Would they restrain her? Confine her? Make her tranquil?

Would they kill Cole?

And what of Solas?

All three of them would be safer with Cole a secret, but it was too late for that, wasn't it?

Cullen would tell the others, no matter what. And she doubted she wanted to hear his version of what was happening.

Solas was right.

"Get Cole and meet me in the war room?"

"Of course, inquisitor."

She wasn't sure if the title was supposed to reassure her, to remind her that she was the one in charge here, but it didn't. Instead, she just felt empty as she hurried through the halls. After all, 'inquisitor' was nothing more than a title, and those could be revoked.

As she walked into the main hall, someone called out to her. She didn't look back. What she was doing now was hard enough and she couldn't handle anything else. She didn't want to greet someone or listen to a problem or…

Dorian caught up with her, nonetheless, somewhat disheveled from what she could see from the corner of her eye. She didn't look at him. If she stopped, she would run, and that would just make her look guilty. The templars would be after her in a breath.

Dorian matched her pace, muttering something about no rest for the wicked. "What's going on? I just got in in time to hear the commander ordering people to gather for an emergency meeting. Is everything alright?"

Bull easily matched their pace on her other side.

The Chargers hadn't come back with the rest of the inquisition's party in Denerim, saying they had to pick up some strays, and while Finley had noticed that Krem was missing, she hadn't realized that Dorian had been with them, as well. After how things went, it was probably for the best that neither Tevinter made an appearance in front of the king.

Finley's stomach clenched. While she didn't want to talk about it, they already knew enough that it wouldn't look good to keep secrets. "The commander has called my judgment into question."

Dorian scoffed. "Of course he did. The pretty ones are always a little daft, aren't they? It was about magic, wasn't it? I've heard he's not fond of it."

"We've got your back," Bull reassured.

Finley didn't answer. She'd thought Cullen would, too. How many of the people she'd grown close to over the last few months would turn on her now?

How many would later, when she said the wrong thing, trusted someone they felt she shouldn't?

She felt sick to her stomach.

She turned the corner to head to the war room and saw Cullen already there. He was arguing with someone, that beautiful face of his twisted with anger as his voice echoed down the hall that he wanted them to get out and let the advisors handle things.

As she drew closer, she recognized the voice.

Warden Alistair?

How big of an audience were they going to have? She tried to remember where the windows were in the war room, and how she could get out of the castle if she needed to. She was no Avvar, but she could scale a wall in an emergency.

How was this happening? Just a short while ago, she'd been so…happy.

A fool's emotion.

After everything, she should have known better. How many times had things gone awry? How many people had betrayed her or abandoned her or died on her? Letting one's happiness come from another person was how one got stabbed in the back.

She stopped just shy of the doorway, her instincts telling her to run now, before they could corner her somewhere. After all, it was never good to move toward an angry templar, and Cullen was clearly furious.

"I can go, if you want."

The words were soft and soothing. A spirit's spell. Cole stood beside the door with Solas, wringing his hands as he peered at her. There were a few queries from behind her as to who he was, but she ignored them; she'd be answering that question soon enough.

She held her hand out to Cole. He blinked owlishly at her and then gave her a small smile, taking her hand.

She led him into the war room. As they entered, it fell silent, and she realized that there had been more than just Cullen's argument going on already. Aside from him and Alistair, Leliana, Cassandra, Josephine, and Vivienne were already there, surrounding the wartable.

Footsteps filed in behind her, and she swallowed her fears. She could get out of here if she needed, and aside from Cullen's gaze, she couldn't feel any templars in the immediate vicinity.

She could get away, but what of the others? Of Solas and Cole?

There was a reason people in the Wilds lived solitary lives. It was safer that way.

There was no going back now, however, and so she resolved herself to face her fate.

Letting Cole's hand go, she motioned to him. "This is Cole. He's a spirit, a good one. He wanted to help, so I let him join us." She hesitated before nodding, trying to look more confident than she felt. "If nothing else, he has helped me quite a bit."

"And," Solas added, stepping up on Cole's other side, "he helped unravel a Venatori plot here in Skyhold, alerting myself and Lady Vivienne. I—."

"Anyone could claim credit for that, darling," Vivienne stated, an icy smile in place. "I never saw who sent me those notes."

"Don't trust, don't hurt, don't let it see weakness—" Cole cut himself off and picked at his sleeve. "I didn't think it would help if you knew."

Cullen let out an incredulous bark of a laugh, face dark, anger barely contained. "Look at the damned thing! It's mimicking Finley's mannerisms!" He looked at her, some of that anger shifting. "It's trying to put you at ease."

"Yes," Cole agreed. "It helps."

Even as Cullen scowled, hand going to his sword as if to cut down the spirit before Cole could say another word, Leliana stayed his blade, gaze on Cole. "You're the blonde boy who's been helping…since Haven."

"Yes."

Finley didn't want to hear the accusations, the rage, the rallying behind Cullen and Vivienne's anger.

She wanted to throw up.

Leliana smiled. "I have heard many reports about the good you've done."

The world felt like it ground to a halt.

Cole beamed.

When Cullen tried to argue, a shuffling from the corner caught Finley's attention, and her heart nearly stopped.

She missed people? How had she missed people? She always made sure she knew how many were surrounding her.

Rather than templars, however, Varric stepped up to the table. Garrett and Isabela leaned against the wall near the window she'd settled on bolting through if it came to that.

Miserably, she considered which would be her second-best option.

Varric held up a hand when Cullen tried to argue. "The kid helped me before, too."

"It's a little unsettling that he's a…" Dorian trailed off and then shrugged, leaning against the table beside Finley. "He's helped me, as well. Alerted me to the trap being laid in Denerim."

"He helped me, too."

Finley turned to see that one of the people who had come in behind her was Krem.

No, not just Krem. All of the Chargers.

Terrified as she was, she couldn't help the small voice that whispered in her head that the people behind her…were on her side.

It didn't feel real.

This was a trick, surely.

No one sided with mages and spirits over templars.

Krem went on to tell of how Cole had come to him during the renovations, stopping him just short of where a rotted part of the ceiling in the tavern fell. As soon as he was done, Dalish spoke out, and then the rest of the Chargers in turn. Even Grim said, "Good one, that."

A small bit of hope welled up inside of her.

She wasn't sure if that was more terrifying or less terrifying that Cullen's reaction.

After all, hope could be such a wicked lie.

Garrett sauntered over, and leaned on the edge of the wartable, near Varric. "How is this even an argument? He's clearly what she said: here to help." As a round of agreements went up, Cullen scowled at Garrett.

"This is not the time for your rabble-rousing—"

"Funny. I don't see any rabble," Alistair chimed in.

Cullen gave the warden a scathing glare, though it was Josephine who broke the silence.

"Cole helped me with my office." She waited for the room to quiet before motioning down the hall. "I couldn't reach to put up some of my tapestries and paintings, and I didn't want to call someone away from a more important task. This boy came in and helped me when I was about to give up."

Finley was at a loss for words.

That everyone would come together like this…that they would be willing to give Cole a chance…and not because he had some necessity stuck to his hand. They were genuinely willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

They were willing to trust him…and her.

"So we're to just let that…creature have free reign of the castle?" Vivienne asked, disapproval dripping from her voice. "My dear, be reasonable."

"Cole helps," Finley asserted. There was a little, tiny part of her that whispered that if she was wrong, she'd be putting everyone in danger, but it was too late for her to change her mind now. She'd made her stand and had her backing.

Even if it wasn't the backing she wanted.

Cullen's gaze was cold and hard. "That creature is not a 'boy'."

She made a point not to look at him as she straightened up and put a hand on Cole's shoulder. "Cole will stay, and he has permission to help people as he's done. Anything on a larger scale will be run by myself and my advisors before being implemented."

"Why do people always forget him?" Again, Cullen was the one to protest, though his voice had a desperate edge to it now, like he knew he'd been beaten, but couldn't stop fighting.

"I can control it sometimes," Cole offered, perking up a bit. "I've…been working on that. Controlling it. I will try to help you remember me."

"How do we know he's not making us forget the bad things he's done?"

"Maferath's dusty balls, Cullen!" Garrett snapped, making Finley jump. "Get off it! The mages here have more than proved themselves, and they say he can be trusted!"

"We can't know its real intentions!"

Cole held up a hand, fingers half curled save for his index. "I don't need to possess anyone—"

"Cullen," Cassandra finally spoke up, stepping up beside the commander. "We will notify the captains and lieutenants to stay vigilant and keep an eye on him."

Cullen looked at her, lost. "And when we prove he's a demon too late? If we're lenient now and people die because of it?"

"This isn't Kinloch." Alistair's voice was soft, but the pure vitriol that filled Cullen's glare as he recoiled from the statement made it seem like it had been a personal attack.

"I am well aware of that."

"Are you?" Alistair asked.

Cullen fish mouthed, his face flushing with anger, hands clenched at his sides.

"Perhaps it would be best," Josephine interjected, smiling to Cullen and then Finley and then Alistair, "to table this until tomorrow afternoon. We are all tired from our travels, and I can't imagine this is conducive to debate."

"What's the point?" Cullen spat, throwing his hands up and turning his back on the room. "You've all made up your minds already, and it's clear there's no reasoning with you."

The words were the type to be accompanied with the speaker storming out, and yet he didn't. Instead, he waited as the others filed out, back to them all.

Finley hung back, noting the pointed frown Vivienne gave her as she strode out. When most of the others had left, she moved around the table toward Cullen. Alistair had mentioned Kinloch, and it made her wonder just what she was missing.

She knew that it had been taken over by demons, that he had suffered while he was there, but this… How was Cole anything like that? His anger didn't make sense to her.

And more than that…she didn't want to be mad at him. She wanted a reason to dismiss his callousness, that look of terror when he stared at her…the way he'd stopped trusting her so abruptly.

She'd barely gotten close enough to reach out and touch him, when he turned toward her and took a sharp step back, surprised. He shook his head.

Her throat felt dry, but she pushed herself, watching him carefully. "Cullen—"

"I…can't…," he whispered, pain in his eyes as he turned away and stalked out of the room. The coldness in his tone rooted her feet to where she stood better than any frost spell ever could.

When the sounds of footsteps began to fade, Finley slumped down against the table, gaze wandering over the map without taking anything in.

How could she have been so wrong? How had she thought that Cullen could be an ally to her?

And how had she let herself get to the point that it hurt this much?

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she jerked her attention toward the owner, that little bubble of hope swelling.

And then breaking.

It wasn't Cullen.

Of course it wasn't Cullen.

As she looked back down, Garrett squeezed her shoulder gently. "Don't take it personally. He's always been a prick. Especially toward mages." When Finley didn't reply, Garrett let his hand fall away. "The way he was with you, I thought he might've changed, but…he doesn't like a mage unless there properly leashed. It has nothing to do with you as a person."

"Doesn't it?" Finley whispered.

A hush settled over them before Garrett finally nudged her with his elbow. "Hey, want to meet a golem?"