A/N: Thank you so much for reading!

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Cassandra walked down the hall toward the war room with Cullen to her side and Leliana a few paces in front. She and the commander had been going over various defenses that Cullen wanted to add to make the whole valley more fortified when Leliana had come and told them they needed to gather to discuss matters, almost as though they were being summoned for a war meeting.

That, of course, was absurd, because Finley had yet to return.

She had left Cassandra with only a note saying she would see them back at the Skyhold.

This time, there had been no leaf bird to direct them after her, and so Cassandra was left assuming—hoping, really—that Finley must be safe, even if she had left with Solas and no one else.

She still wished Finley had thought to tell them where she would be.

As though wishing so would change things now.

It had been two weeks since Cassandra and the others had brought in the mage children, and no one could say one way or another what had happened to Solas or their illustrious inquisitor.

Rumors were beginning to circulate that red templars had caught them unaware in some backwoods area where their corpses now rotted.

Cassandra and the others had done their best to squelch such whispers, assuring everyone that the inquisitor was away dealing with necessary business, but the longer it stretched on without her striding through those gates, the more people worried.

She'd even found Cullen musing as to whether to send out a search party for their missing apostates. His list had, of course, had mostly templars on it, and he'd simply scowled and tossed the damned thing into a fire when Cassandra had pointed out that little detail.

Even if Finley actually needed help, Cassandra doubted she'd appreciate a dozen templars riding out to find her. She certainly hadn't seemed thrilled with 'her' five coming along with Cassandra earlier.

While Cassandra didn't doubt that Cullen had made a new list and was still tinkering with it, she hoped that he'd at least thought to include a few of the inquisitor's companions this time, like Dorian or Sera.

Or the Iron Bull.

Spy that he was, maybe the Qunari knew where Finley was.

As they approached the war room, Leliana stopped, calling out to Josephine that she was needed. Their ambassador looked up to give them a puzzled look before gathering a few things and coming over.

"What's going on?"

"Your presence is required," was all that Leliana would say.

As they made their way those last few yards, Cassandra had to wonder what on earth this was about that all four of them would be needed when the inquisitor still wasn't back.

Of the four of them, Leliana alone seemed to be unsurprised by their meeting. Just as Cassandra decided that it must have been the spymaster's machinations, Leliana opened the door to the war room.

Cullen swore almost instantly. "You!"

His sword was in hand, though Leliana held a hand out to stop him. Her voice was low as she spoke to the person Cullen had seen. "How did you get here again?"

Even as Cassandra leaned over to peer into the room and see an old elf in tattered robes—the one who had been apprehended in this room earlier in the week, no less—standing on the far side of the room, another, familiar voice snapped, "Leave him be. Honestly, who puts an old man in a dungeon?"

The elf let out a hmph and returned to what he'd been doing...scrawling spells across the wall.

Cullen and Leliana moved into the room enough for Josephine and Cassandra to follow them in, and as they did, Cassandra looked to the right of the door to see Finley.

When had she gotten back? And how had news of her return not preceded her?

She was covered with dust and dirt, sporting more than a few new holes and rips in her clothes, and a few twigs had been used to pull back her hair from her face and pin it at the back of her head.

Maker, one still had a leaf on it.

Good as it was to see that she'd made it back unscathed, Cassandra was a more than a little put out that she'd made it back so...quietly. If the inquisitor could get in the castle with a glowing mark on her hand, then surely others could as well. A quick glance to Cullen assured Cassandra that he was thinking the same things, no doubt already making a mental list of who was on duty tonight and who would need to be questioned about slacking off later.

Another question then bubbled up.

How long had Finley been back? Why hadn't she announced herself?

Or was that what this was about?

Finley wobbled a little, pulling her hand and the coal she held in it away from the wall before she felt comfortable enough to keep writing. She was balanced rather precariously on a stack of odds and ends that started with two chairs and then devolved into books and various other knicknacks as she, too, scrawled out some sort of spell on the wall.

"He wouldn't tell us who he was," Leliana offered, walking over to stand beside Finley. "What should we have done?"

"Does he look venatori?" Finley replied, finishing the spell she was working on. It gleamed brightly for a moment before fading out, as though it had never been written. Almost immediately she was writing another.

"If the venatori send assassins, they won't be dressed in their regular attire," Cullen stated, voice a bit fainter than usual. "Where have you been? And what are you doing?"

"You wanted to talk to me about my past, I am making sure only those I wish to hear of it will hear of it." She paused to read over the spell she was writing, frowned, and rubbed out the last symbol with the side of her hand before redrawing it. "I'll not have people spying on me." Her spell gleamed and faded, and she started on another.

"Maker," Cassandra murmured, glancing around the room as though she might see others. She couldn't feel any magic, though. Not even when the spells gleamed. "How many spells are in this room?"

A withered scoff caught her attention, and Cassandra turned to find the old elf standing next to her. He gave her a cross look before hobbling forward to stand beside Finley. Leliana slipped to the side to give him room. "I've done the ones you asked. Anything else?"

"No, that should be it." She paused and gave him one of the warmest smiles Cassandra had ever seen grace the inquisitor's face. "You're welcome to stay. You can have the room at the top of the tower if they don't have anywhere else for you."

Even as both Josephine and Cullen started their protests, the elf let out a harumph and shook his head. "Too many templars here. I'll be in touch."

Finley nodded and went back to her latest spell as the mage hobbled over to the window nearest them, opened it, sat on the ledge, and let himself fall backward.

In an instant, Cullen was at the window, peering out into the evening light. After a moment that took far longer than it should have to locate the falling mage, he pulled his head back in and looked up at Finley. "Where did he go?"

"Wherever he wants to."

Cullen frowned. "Who is he?"

"A friend, not that you treated him like one." She finished the spell she was working on. As it faded out she hopped down from her teetering perch and glanced at Cullen. "Close the window, would you?"

"Does your friend have a name?" Leliana asked, moving to her usual spot at the war table.

"Many," Finley replied, peering up one last time at her handiwork as though she could still see it and then meeting Leliana's bemused look with an even one. "If he'd wanted you to know any, he'd have told you himself." She straightened herself up as though trying to look more authoritative. "And anyway, we're not here about him."

The window finally clicked shut, and for just an instant, Cassandra could feel a hum of magic around them. Like everything else, it faded quickly.

"May I ask what your spells were for?" Josephine had taken her spot beside Leliana.

Even as Cassandra moved to where she always stood as well, Finley breezed past her and motioned for them to all move to a few mismatched chairs that had clearly been pilfered from other parts of the castle. They'd been arranged in an imperfect circle in the space between the war table and the far wall.

The four of them moved to claim a chair, with Cullen joining them—looking more than a little put out. Finley waited until the others had taken their seats before settling into her own.

"They do a variety of things. One masks magic so that no one will know to look for spells. One muffles sound beyond the windows and doors. One makes it so no one can see anything looking through the windows. Another makes it so that other spells cannot enter this room." Finley shrugged. "Then there's a few decoy spells that will satisfy any templar or mage trying to dispel our defenses."

That she thought anyone would know to dispel anything at all was more than a little paranoid, though...considering how easily her 'friend' had snuck into the castle, Cassandra abruptly wondered if at least some of Finley's rampant paranoia might not be grounded in truth.

Finley crossed her legs in front of her and lightly tapped her fingers against her ankles. "Surely you did not wish to waste this meeting on talk of spells, though? I doubt any of you would ever be able to cast one."

"I simply feel better about magic when I am able to understand its purpose," Josephine said, smiling as she glanced around the room, like she expected to see some remnants of any of the spells.

When Finley nodded, Leliana smiled and leaned forward in her seat. "So then, we have a need to speak with you about your past."

"And your capabilities," Cassandra added, a little put out that she hadn't been given more time to prepare. She'd been wondering about Finley's magic before, and now that one of her 'friends' could, according to Cullen, turn into a bird, well… She would have liked to have compiled some questions for this. As it was, she would have to go off memory.

Finley looked more than a little nervous, though she hid it well enough behind a quickly constructed facade of arrogance. Rather than say anything, Finley motioned for them to go on and went back to drumming her fingers. She seemed a bit more used to not being able to play with her braid than she had been the last time Cassandra had seen her, back when Finley had ditched the lot of them with over two dozen children to tend to, as well as a mercenary company asking if they'd been contracted or not.

Cassandra was the one to start, after a brief pause where a hush fell over the room. If she didn't say anything, she was going to start thinking of how awkward things had been between herself and Ser Yorric and how she had made things even worse by addressing the...issue head on.

"Let us start with something simple. Many people assumed that your eyes were the result of falling into the Fade. This report would imply it is not so, as would the others' reemergence from the Fade lacking any similar patterns in their eyes."

Though Finley opened her mouth to respond right away, she hesitated. Cassandra could see Cullen tense where he sat, but if Finley noticed it, she didn't react. Instead, she squeezed her ankles. "You are not going to like a lot of what I have to say."

"It is better we hear it, regardless," Cassandra replied. That Finley would keep her word and have this meeting at all felt like it was...big was so simple a word, yet the only one that Cassandra could think of to describe this, so she did her best not to look impatient.

Whether she succeeded or not was another story, for she could see Josephine frowning her way from the corner of her eyes.

Finley was oblivious to it all. "I don't know a lot about my earliest years. I don't know when or where I was born, how old I am, if I ever had a name given by my parents. What I do remember from my early childhood, is comments that I was born with my eyes like this. My mother—" Her face twisted as she debated finishing her sentence before finally saying, "she didn't like it. But she said the first time I opened my eyes, they'd been marked with the Fade."

"Because you were born to an abomination?" Leliana asked, leaning forward a bit in her chair.

They were not going to take this slowly, apparently.

"Ser Caudry's speculations are as accurate as mine." Finley stilled a moment before casting a hurt look toward Cullen. "I told you before that my parents were not kind. They were hardly bursting with information to tell me so that when I was one day up against an evil tevinter magister-abomination-darkspawn I'd be able to tell everyone every little detail so that they wouldn't panic every time I didn't hold a fork correctly."

Her gaze wandered to the war table, and she chose to inspect the markers she could see from there.

"If I may," Josephine said after watching their inquisitor for a few quiet moments. "Is there a magical explanation for your eyes? One that might be well known in magical circles that the common man might not have heard?"

At that, Finley blinked, looking almost curious herself as she tilted her head. It was a cautious curiosity, as though she was surprised that any of them would think to ask such questions, instead of simply jumping to accusations or agreements with the templar's musings.

"It's called Fade-touched," Cullen murmured.

Josephine gave him a polite smile and then looked back at Finley. "Forgive me if this picks at old wounds, but I had heard that the fade-touched eye changes back after a certain time."

Finley slumped her shoulders forward as she thought on it. Then, abruptly, she held her hands up, making vague motions. "When magic is cast, no matter what the spell, there is always a little bit of excess." She frowned, reconsidering her words. "Like when it rains, and there's puddles left over afterwards. The puddles disappear, given time." The faces she made as she explained spoke volumes to how well she thought she was doing.

"So...magic can pool in your eyes when it is cast?" Josephine sat with her hands clasped in her lap, and Cassandra idly wondered if she wished she was writing everything down.

"Yes and no." Finley tilted her head one way and then the other. "If I cast a spell, my magic won't get caught in my eyes. Because it's mine. It might show with a glimmer or a color change, but it wouldn't...stick. But it could get caught in yours, if I was right next to you or if it was a very unstable spell." She straightened up again, resuming her meaningless hand motions. "The less stable and efficient a spell, the more excess magic it shirks off to puddle places. If you make your spells efficiently, it is almost non-existent." She looked very much ready to elaborate on that, likely to go into one of the rants Cassandra had heard about how appalling everyone else's spellcraft was. Instead, she shrugged and looked back at Josephine. "Does that make sense?"

"So...whose magic is in your eyes?"

"My mother's, I assume," Finley shrugged. She looked around at them before, very reluctantly adding, "Or the demon's. If it's the result of the possession, then it could have gotten stuck, I suppose...like those deep puddles that never seem to go away, no matter how long it's been since it rained last?"

Josephine considered it, tilting her head and then looking back at Finley. "So possession must be a very unstable spell, then?"

Finley shuddered. "I've only seen a demon actually take a mage once, and I was a bit preoccupied with what was happening to look at the excess cast off." She looked down and then shrugged. "I wouldn't imagine it would be terribly stable, though, no."

"One of the concerns with your eyes," Cullen said, slowly, as though testing the waters to see if Finley would listen to him as well, "is that it's mostly recognized from maleficar." Even as she started to protest, he held up a hand, an almost pleading look on his face. "I know you're not a blood mage. We all know. We just need to know how to allay the fears of others."

Finley didn't look as though she quite believed him. However, rather than argue, she simply rolled her eyes. "Because the demon is the one using its magic, so it stains the mage's eyes. Do they not teach you this as a templar?"

"Not that, no."

When Finley looked at Cassandra expectantly, Cassandra shook her head. "I had not heard that, either. I knew spells could affect others around them, but did not know it had to be another's magic for the mage themself."

"Now you do." Finley picked at the her pantleg's cuff. "Perhaps you can inform the other templars as well so that they will not be as likely to stab innocent bystanders as they are now."

Cullen sucked in a slow breath at that, but said nothing.

Cassandra tilted her head. "Is there an easy way to tell the difference between one possessed with those rings or one who was standing nearby?"

"The possessed one will be the one trying to kill you," Finley retorted.

Cassandra couldn't help her own exasperated sigh.

"Your eyes don't have the same shade as most blood mages'—or bystanders' eyes," Cullen said finally, tacking on the amendment to his comment quickly. "Can you explain that?"

"I'm a mage. Mage eyes do strange things. Ask the ones here. I know some who've eyes changed color all together, others just change when they cast, still others—"

"Except yours were like this before you had your magic," Cullen pointed out.

"Maybe I was marked by Andraste from birth," Finley said, waving her hands in the air as though it was some great conspiracy, sarcasm dripping from her voice. Almost immediately she looked at Josephine and Leliana, not sure who to focus on. "Do not tell people that."

"They will likely assume anyway, inquisitor," Leliana offered gently, a half smile in place in response to the glare sent her way. "But if we can keep quiet about your eyes always being like this, there will not be any such rumors." Even as Finley nodded approvingly, she held up a finger. "But, there were clearly people who knew you when you were a child. We will need to make sure they will stay quiet as well."

Them and anyone who had read the report, like King Cousland. Though, if he were to come forward with no one to back up his claims, he would simply look like a fool and nothing more.

It was likely why he hadn't said anything thus far. Cassandra made a note to ask Leliana about damage control later.

Finley had grown quiet at that, gaze slowly lowering to her lap as her usual fidgeting stilled. She pinched her brow together and tried to speak twice before she found her voice. "They're dead. The people who knew." When Leliana asked how she could be so sure, she let out a huff. "I kept track of them. They died in the Blight."

"You're sure?" Leliana asked, only to be met with a look that could kill. "Very well, then."

Cassandra was the one to breach the next subject. "Flemeth." The eye roll that directed Finley's attention to her almost made her smile. "You've said twice that you knew many Flemeths."

"I've known many idiots who wander into the Wilds and claim the name," Finley said almost instantly.

"This one we wish to speak of never gave herself that title, did she?" Leliana asked, a slight sparkle in her eyes. "I met her, though when I did she was but a little old woman, not terribly different from your friend," she motioned to the window. "Save her eyes were gold. It was the only hint that she was more than she seemed...until she turned into a dragon, of course."

"You're the second person to tell me she can do that," Finley replied. "I've never seen it myself."

"It sounds less far fetched when you consider your other friend turns into a bird," Cullen murmured.

"Dragons and birds are hardly the same." Finley made a point to not look at him as she added, "I do not see a point in speaking about either of them. You wanted to ask about me, did you not?"

"Can you?" Cullen asked, interrupting Leliana as she tried to say something else. When Finley looked at him, he motioned to her. "Can you turn into a bird...or a dragon?"

"If I could be a bird, do you think I'd waste my time looking like this?" Finley snapped, motioning to herself, before muttering under her breath, "Birds are better than people. I wish I was a bird." Then, assuming she would know the next question, she straightened up,indignant. "I cannot shapeshift. I never got a feel for it."

She gave Cullen a look that challenged him to pursue the matter further, but he simply sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck instead, sitting a bit straighter in his chair as though his back were tense.

Finley let her gaze wander again, resuming drumming her fingers against her ankles again. "I'm not a witch."

Rather than reply, Cullen simply closed his eyes.

"If we could backtrack a moment…" Leliana said, her usual gentle cadence in place. "Ties to Flemeth—even a Flemeth, could be damaging,"

"Unless of course you were at odds with her," Josephine said, perking up. "That you would stand toe to toe against a legend would be—"

Finley's eyes widened. "You don't go against Flemeth. If you don't like what she's doing, you leave."

"I fought her," Leliana offered. "I was in the party with King Cousland and Alistair when we confronted and defeated her."

"Then perhaps we are not talking of the same person," Finley replied, voice a bit too polite, as though she was already slipping back into telling half-truths. "Because, as Warden Alistair was so quick to point out, she was my friend who told me of the Conclave."

"So you were there on Flemeth's behalf." Josephine's brow pinched together as she spoke.

"No." Finley replied, surprised by the assumption. She abruptly shifted about as though she couldn't get comfortable, only to settle back into the position she'd started in. "You are aware there are other mages in the Wilds."

It was a statement more than a question, but more than that, it was an admittance that she had always danced around before.

Cassandra was oddly proud. "We are."

"Well, we have...networks, you could say. Some of us keep up with others and some don't and some of us...my network was trying to find a cure for the Blight." She rocked as she spoke, gaze not on anyone in particular. "'Flemeth' came to us, said that there was a mage who would be at the Conclave, an Enchanter Pernice. A friend asked how she knew, and she said a spirit in the Fade told her." Finley paused and glared at Cassandra. "I did not lie about that. A spirit did say it, just not directly to me."

Rather than feed into her anger with an argument, Cassandra simply nodded. It threw the mage somewhat to not have to defend herself so, and she ended up sitting there, eyeing Cassandra and then the others as though she wasn't sure where she stood with them and whether this wasn't some sort of trap, even if she had set it up herself.

"So then, you truly do not believe in the Witches of the Wilds?" Leliana asked, that familiar sparkle in her eyes.

"Why would I?" Finley asked, cocking her head. "They're myth perpetuated by runaway Circle mages. I've seen far too many people pretend to be one or get mistaken for one. I've been mistaken for one plenty of times, including being called Flemeth."

"And what did you do, to make them think you a witch?" When Finley simply pointed to her eyes, Leliana let out a soft laugh. "I see."

"That brings us to the Green Witch," Cullen said quietly. His gaze was lowered, eyes squinted as though he was trying not to outright grimace. Since apprehending Finley's 'friend', he'd been having more trouble with the symptoms of his lyrium withdrawal, likely because he'd used a skill that depended on it so.

Cassandra idly wondered if she could teach him a few seeker tricks to use instead.

"Which again, I already told you I did not encourage. No more than I've encouraged the title 'Herald of Andraste'." The bitterness in her tone was unmistakable. At that, however, she straightened up a little and motioned to Leliana and then Cullen. "Though I admit I would like to know how you heard of that title. I had not thought it would follow me so far from the Wilds."

"Oh?" Leliana tilted her head "I assumed Cullen had told you about the book—"

Finley's gaze snapped to Cullen. "You said there were stories."

"Stories compiled in a book," Cullen corrected.

"You did not mention a book."

"I did not think that mattered."

"Yet if I think something irrelevant, it is 'lies of omission'," Finley quipped, an indignant sniff following as she looked down her nose at her ankles. "Why is there a book of me? Is it common to write about apostates and 'witches'? Is it Varric's? If so, you shouldn't believe anything in it. He exaggerates horribly."

"Actually, no. It was written by a templar," Leliana said, smiling slightly as she rose from her seat and moved to the war table. She looked around a moment before her gaze settled on the assortment that had been used to make Finley's stand earlier. She found the book balanced precariously between some others and somehow managed to free it without toppling the rest of the stacked odds and ends. As she moved, she spoke. "People always do love a good story, and they tend to write about the things they find curious or exciting and foreign. Like witches and...here we are. This was written by a Ser Ross Wellington—"

Finley was out of her chair at the name, moving over to stand beside Leliana, panic stricken. "That can't be…"

Without asking, she took the book from Leliana's hands and ran her fingers over the page with the author's signature before flipping through the pages, frantic.

She stopped on one, staring down, still as death. From what little Cassandra could see of it, it looked like some kind of drawing.

Slowly, Finley's knuckles turned white and the pages crinkled in protest as her grip grew tighter and tighter upon the book. Then she was flipping again, gaze scouring the pages.

"Inquisitor, what is wrong?"

Josephine had risen from her seat as well, casting a worried look to Leliana before stepping up beside Finley and looking down, trying to find whatever it was in the pages that had upset the inquisitor so.

Abruptly, Finley dropped the book, as though it burned her.

"This can't be right."

"Inquisitor, what is the matter?" Leliana asked, reaching down to pick up the book carefully, already skimming the page.

"That talks about when I saved the calf. I...he couldn't have written about that." Finley shook her head, growing horror creeping into her eyes. "He died during the Blight. I know. I have his…" She abruptly went rigid and looked back at the book. "If he wrote about the calf, he lived through the Blight." Her gaze shifted between Leliana and Cullen. "How did you get this from him? Is he here?"

Cullen rose slowly, appraising how upset Finley already was, trying to feel for what a correct answer, or way to tell the answer might be. "He was too ill to bring us the book himself, so—"

"Ill? He was ill?" Finley focused on him so completely, taking a step toward him. "Did he recover?"

Cullen shifted his weight. "I don't know the details, though I was under the impression he was in the final stages of—"

With a cry, Finley shoved her hands against his chest, not that it did much more than aggravate him. "You...you told me you'd heard about the Green Witch months ago. You left him where he was? Sick? What illness?"

"I don't—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Finley whirled away from him. She darted over the war table, scattering markers, maps, and missives, and was out the door faster than Cassandra had ever seen her move.

Leliana was on her heels, sprinting out after her into the hall, calling for her to wait, and Josephine hurried after as well, the ruffles of her gown shifting about her like she was caught in a whirlwind.

"Why didn't I mention his name…?" Cullen murmured, drawing Cassandra's attention away from the receding procession.

She had made it as far as the door when she turned back to find Cullen on his knees, looking through the papers on the floor. When he found what he was looking for, she recognized it instantly. The templar report that Finley had given them.

His hands shook a little as he flipped the pages and then stopped. "Ser Ross. He's here too." He looked up at Cassandra, utterly lost. "And in the book he mentions looking for a girl he knew. Why didn't I think…"

Cassandra glanced down the hall to see Josephine rounding the corner into the main hall and then turned back to the war room and knelt to start gathering the papers. The others would be able to talk some sense into Finley, neither of them were as hard and blunt as she and Cullen.

And from the looks of things, he needed someone with him now. As she worked on picking things up, he joined her, silently gripping each marker and piling them into one hand.

"It's not your fault."

"It's not right to hold her to a different standard than I hold myself," Cullen whispered. "We told her withholding things was lying."

"You did not know—"

"Did she?" Cullen rose to his feet and cursed softly as he began setting down the markers that he knew the places for. "I should have said something."

"So should Leliana," Cassandra offered, taking her stack and sorting it at the edge of the table based on who would likely present it. Hopefully they'd all end up where they needed to be. "Finley could have mentioned him earlier, too."

Cullen winced at that, but said nothing. He held a rift marker over Ferelden and then tossed it down when he couldn't remember where it went.

"We will fix this."

"You shouldn't have to." Leaning against the edge of the table, Cullen curled his hands into fists, eyes squeezed shut. "I...I don't think I can do this." Opening his eyes, he stared down at the map without really seeing any of it. "More and more...I thought I was doing well—"

"You are."

"—but more and more I see my slip ups. I tried to attack Leliana in Haven—"

"You were under red lyrium's influence, and Leliana was fine."

"—Haven's loss—"

"That was no one's fault but Corypheus'."

"—Nearly incapacitating myself trying to stop an intruder—"

"You did stop him."

"—Not mentioning Ser Ross—"

"You are being too hard on your—"

"Cole."

Cassandra took in a slow breath, willing herself not to simply shake the man. "It is good to be wary."

"So wary that we lose valuable allies?" Cullen looked back at her, lost, empty.

"It is good to have different perspectives at the table." Cassandra patted the old slab of wood without thinking.

"When have my ideas really helped? When have I been necessary? Ser Barris could do this job just as well—"

"Enough!" Cassandra smacked her hand down on the table, making both of them jump. She took a moment to compose herself and then shook her head. Reaching out, she put her hand on Cullen's shoulder. She could feel a faint tremor in him, but ignored it. "Ser Barris is a smart man, yes, and capable, but he would make just as many mistakes. Different mistakes. Ones that might end up far more costly than any you have made."

"Or he could do better," Cullen whispered.

"You do not know that." Cassandra squeezed his shoulder and smiled when he looked up at her. "Most of what you listed sounds like you are having difficulty with Finley. I think you two should sit down and talk to each other. It would likely make the both of you feel better."

"It's too late for that," Cullen mumbled, gaze cast down. "She tried and I...I failed her."

"I am sure she would be willing to talk with you, if you asked." Cassandra hesitated before adding, "She always speaks so highly of you...even after what happened with Cole." She wasn't sure if she should keep going, if she should tell him how they'd met different recruits during those two months between Cole's reveal and heading for Adamant and how Finley had always suggested they talk to the commander about finding a place because he was a fair sort who wouldn't turn them away. Sometimes she'd looked so pained after talking to someone...Dorian had tried to breach the subject of what had happened with Cullen more than a few times, but it always left Finley in such a fickle mood that the rest of the party had finally talked him into dropping it.

Still, there was a respect there that hadn't been lost, even with their disagreement on Cole.

Before Cassandra could find the words to express that, another voice chimed in.

"She thinks you think she's a monster."

Both Cassandra and Cullen jumped at the new voice, whirling to find that they were no longer alone in the war room.

Cole nudged one of the markers back to where it belonged. "When she defended me, she drew a parallel. She thinks you took it and saw wickedness instead of good." He held another piece, cradling it in his hand as though it were something precious. After a moment, he set it where it had originally been as well—the marker for the rift Cullen had been having trouble with. "Of all the people in all the world, you thinking she was a monster hurt the most."

"She's not a monster," Cullen murmured, the tension in his shoulders never quite leaving.

"I know," Cole offered, setting a few more markers into place in quick succession. "I know, she knows, you know. But she doesn't know that you know. That's what hurts, and it brings other hurts up as well. Kind eyes, a gentle smile, a well trimmed beard that feels prickly against the palm. A gentle protector whose eyes grew hard when he saw something he didn't like. It wasn't her fault, she was good, she helped but the light went out and then she had to go away." Cole picked at his sleeve and then looked around, wandering over near the window to pick up a marker that had rolled away. "You should talk to her when you get there."

"Get where?" Cullen asked, suspicion plain on his face and in his voice.

Cole walked up to him and fiddled with the marker a moment before setting it down on the map. "To where she went."

Almost on cue, Josephine swept back into the room, panicked. "She's gone."

"What?" Cullen and Cassandra turned toward her in unison.

"Guards saw Finley riding out into the valley near the river, but after that no one can tell where she went, and there's no horses missing. Leliana has a few people still checking the castle, but we think she's gone."

Cullen slumped back against the table, head in his hands. Cassandra cursed and then looked back to where Cole had been, hoping the spirit would elaborate on what he'd said earlier.

He was gone.

At the worst possible time.

Even as she started to assure Josephine that they would find Finley, she glanced back at the table and Cullen.

He'd turned away from the rest of them, only for his eyes to fall onto the map, onto where Cole had placed that last marker.

It was in a little corner of Ferelden, cradled by the Frostbacks and Kocari Wilds. Straightening his shoulders, he picked up Ser Caudry's report that he'd set aside on the table, skimmed it and then looked back at that little, lonely marker. "I know where she's going."