Cullen let his reins rest on the pommel of his saddle for a moment as he slowly worked through a series of stretches to relax his back. Even though the gait of his halla mount remained smooth as silk, sitting for hours on end in the saddle would be a test for endurance for anyone. As he slowly rolled his neck, he heard a loud pop as some tension eased and sighed with relief.

"I heard that," Varric said as he drew up beside Cullen. "Impressive. I wonder if they heard it in Skyhold."

"Considering we left it behind days ago, I hope not," Cullen said with a chuckle. "I see you decided to escape the carriages."

"Yeah, well, Mae suggested a card game and I wanted to protect my purse," Varric said with a shrug. "Although I have learned that it's a good thing the Iron Lady never joined our card games."

Cullen's eyebrow rose. "Lady Vivienne? Really?"

"For all her manners and dignity, that woman is a cutthroat card player. When we reached the inn last night, she and Mae had to agree to split the pot because even the cards couldn't decide who should win. I think they mentioned something tonight about inviting our dear Lady Ambassador to the table."

"Maker," Cullen breathed. "I'm not sure I'd want to watch that."

"Are you kidding?" Varric asked. "I'm thinking of charging admission. Three card players of that caliber don't often end up in the same place at the same time with money to spare."

"Wait. I thought..." Cullen's voice trailed off. He distinctly remembered Mailani telling him of the Montilyet family's financial woes, and recalled that Dorian had disappeared to Val Royeaux with Josephine sometime before Adamant. And Vivienne... well, actually, he wasn't sure about her personal finances, and would never dream to inquire.

"Oh, Mae's got enough to spare and is happy to do so," Varric explained. "For her, it's not about where the money starts, it's about whose pocket it ends up in after the game is over."

Cullen nodded, since competition was part and parcel of his own drive to improve his skill at cards. "I can see that. Lady Vivienne certainly wouldn't back down from the challenge."

"And Ruffles has an entire nation's reputation to uphold," Varric grunted. "It should be a fun game. To watch, anyway. The innkeeper will like that. He'll be filling mugs all night."

"Too bad Cabot isn't here. Sounds like something he'd endlessly complain about doing and secretly enjoy the whole time," he said with a chuckle, even as an idea ghosted through his mind. If everyone was down in the main room watching the game, would they notice a couple of absences? Finding the opportunity to steal away with Dorian for some time alone had been challenging enough at Skyhold, but doing it on the road had proven impossible.

So far, anyway.

Varric, meanwhile, was still chuckling at Cullen's comment. "I see you've got his number. Don't get me wrong, I like Cabot. But would it kill him to smile once in a while?"

Cullen laughed. "We won't know until he does. Though I have seen him get close when Sera starts in on him."

"Yeah, he likes her. He's really protective of her, too, I've noticed. I wonder if that's why she's allowed to set up permanent camp in the Herald's Rest when he doesn't allow anyone else to stay more than a day or two," Varric mused.

"And Cole," Cullen pointed out.

"Yeah, well, Cole... Cole's special." Varric glanced behind them for a long moment. "And the kid's been through some hard shit. I'm glad he's not going to the Winter Palace, though. The Orlesians aren't what I'd call a good influence for him."

Cullen gave Varric a shrewd glance. "Now who's protective of who?"

"Geez, keep it down, would you?" Varric looked around hastily. "I have a reputation to protect."

"Right," Cullen said, then laughed and clapped Varric on the shoulder. "Varric, the man of business and shady deals, but don't you dare suggest he actually believes any of that stuff he puts in his books."

"Sweet Maker, are you finished?" Varric complained, with a roll of his eyes.

Cullen pretended to think about it, then grinned. "Yes. For now."

"Wonderful," Varric told him dryly. "And now I have to remember why I came up to talk to you in the first place."

"You mean it wasn't for my company?" Cullen asked absently, eyes scanning the faces around them. He didn't realize why until his eyes lit upon Dorian's carriage and lingered there for a moment.

"I take it you'd prefer it if someone else were here?" he heard Varric ask in a smug tone.

"What? No!" Cullen jerked his eyes back to the front, stubbornly not looking at the dwarf. "I suppose I'm just surprised you sought me out."

Varric grunted, but didn't reply to that. Instead, he said, "You've been in a pretty good mood the last few days. Anything you'd like to share with the class?"

His ears grew hot as he kept his gaze stubbornly forward. "The healers cleared me to start sparring again." And it had improved his mood immensely, being able to take his sword up for something besides show again. But he knew that Varric was fishing for something else.

"That's good news actually." The serious tone made Cullen finally glance at Varric, whose face had turned thoughtful. "I mean, I really don't expect to get out of the Winter Palace without a fight, do you?"

"No," Cullen admitted. "From what I've seen, combat is only an aspect of the Game for most Orlesians. Corypheus, on the other hand, went straight to raising a demon army."

Varric nodded, looking a bit moody. "Yeah. And that worries me. I suppose it's too late for me to go back to Skyhold and settle in next to my fire?"

"Not as such, no." Cullen studied his face for a moment. "You are worried. Has something happened?"

"You could say that." Varric squinted into the distance ahead of them. "I had a dream last night."

"A dream?" Cullen's brows pinched together. "I thought-"

"Me, too," Varric grumbled. "It's why I hate the Fade even more than the Deep Roads. I've only ever gone there when shit went north. But yeah, and it was a weird dream."

"Tell me about it," Cullen said softly.

Varric straightened in his saddle. "I was writing in a book. Except it wasn't my book, or my story. Instead, it was..." His voice trailed away for a moment, and then he shook his head. "It was about Hawke. And Alistair."

A shiver ran down Cullen's spine. "You're sure?"

"Damn right I'm sure. You think I'd make up something like that?" Varric demanded. "The story was just about them ordering drinks in an inn and watching the sun set. They were looking forward to retirement. They talked about drinks and cheese. Then Hawke backhanded someone with his mug and a fight broke out, and... that was it. I didn't have anymore to write, so I closed the book and put it on a shelf, and that's when I woke up."

Cullen blinked. "That's all?"

"That's all, yeah. Weird shit, right?" Varric sighed heavily. "Just having a dream is weird enough for me. But for it to be about Hawke and Alistair? Not that they did anything out of the ordinary for them. I mean, Hawke started fights at the Hanged Man all the time."

"I remember the lectures Aveline would give him," Cullen said with a sad smile. "I'm still not sure why she remained so loyal."

"Because for all that he was an asshat, Hawke fixed Kirkwall. He got his arms bloody up to the shoulder to do it, and he sometimes didn't seem to care who was guilty or innocent, but he did things that no one else could-or would-do." A grimace came to Varric's face as he absently rubbed his chin. "I may not like what he did, but he was the Champion."

And Amell is the Hero of Ferelden. The words echoed in Cullen's head, but he didn't say them aloud. He knew it wasn't a fair equivalence, particularly due to Amell's influence on Hawke. "You miss him."

"I do. And I never thought I'd say that." Varric looked up at Cullen. "And not just because he died without telling me the whole story."

Settling his hand on Varric's shoulder again, Cullen squeezed it gently. "I don't know why you had the dream, but maybe you should just appreciate seeing him one more time," he suggested in a low voice.

"It just gnaws at me sometimes," Varric said. "I wouldn't want to leave someone behind in the Deep Roads because of how much I hate them, and leaving someone behind in the Fade is ten times worse. I just wish I had a body to burn, at least."

Cullen nodded. "I feel the same way about Alistair. We weren't particularly close when we were Templars-roommates and sparring partners, but not friends, for all our reminiscing. But when I saw him in Kirkwall..." Cullen's voice trailed away as he stared forward, still remembering the shock of recognizing Alistair lying in the gutter and quietly singing an off-key song to himself. "I could have been there with him, I think, if I'd chosen to run instead of embracing my duties. Of course, that led to its own problems later."

"Yeah, well, Meredith was a special kind of problem," Varric noted with a shudder. "And the red lyrium certainly didn't help."

The mention of the red lyrium drove another shiver down Cullen's back, though for a different reason. "I still can't believe how blind I was to all of that."

"Well, she went mad quietly. With Bartrand, he practically hired town criers and had them parade around Kirkwall shouting the news," Varric grunted, the pain still evident in his voice. "So, don't blame yourself. We still don't know enough about red lyrium to know exactly how it affects people. For all we know, that's why Amell went from twisted to full-blown evil. You saw that staff of his, right?"

"I don't quite follow," Cullen admitted.

"Oh, right. You weren't with us then, you were-" For a moment Varric paused, then cleared his throat. "I forgot. Sparkler told you about Mailani, though, right? About how she showed us what actually happened when she died?"

Cullen nodded. "We've had a few discussions about it, but he didn't mention anything specific about Amell's staff. I do recall Amell had red eyes when I knew him in the Circle. It was just his natural eye color."

"Did they glow?"

"Only when he wanted to intimidate someone," Cullen said. "It was a glamour, though. Even as a child, he preferred to keep people at a distance."

"Huh. Well, they definitely glowed in that vision, though I couldn't tell you if it was magic or not. But his staff..." Varric shuddered. "It had a skull at the top of it, but not just any skull, no. It was made of red lyrium."

Amell, you arrogant bastard. "You're sure? It wasn't just red stone, or something? Greagoir told me about the time he stole an animal skull from one of the Enchanter's rooms once and painted it red to put on a staff. Irving took that away fairly quickly, as you can imagine." The memory still made Cullen roll his eyes. "He was twelve."

"So he was precocious in his creepiness. Got it. And yeah, I'm pretty sure it was red lyrium. Red stone wouldn't have that weird light thing that you see around pure red lyrium, right? I remember that light around Meredith's statue, and those clumps of red lyrium in Emprise de Lion." A grimace came to Varric's face. "Makes me wonder if the light itself is part of the corruption."

"I'm not really sure I want to know just how much that amount of red lyrium can affect someone like Amell." In fact, the idea made him break out into a cold sweat, and he found himself rubbing his hands together reflexively as goosepimples rose along his forearms beneath his vambraces.

"Makes me wonder how he controls it. Or if he does, but has just been lucky so far." Varric shook his head with a sour expression on his face. "Maferath's balls, how did we end up in crazy-town all at once?"

The comment drew Cullen out of spiraling thoughts about Amell and red lyrium, making him snort in amusement. "Just lucky, I guess."

"I think you need a recalibration on the word lucky, Curly," Varric told him.

"I only calibrate trebuchets," Cullen shot back with a grin.

"Oh, right. I forgot. Well, good luck with that." With a sigh, Varric gathered his reins in his hand. "And now I should go talk Tiny out of trying to crash the card game tonight."

Cullen's eyes widened as he tried to imagine Bull at the table with three of the most refined women in their entire delegation. "Well, you can't say it wouldn't make for good entertainment. Especially if he decides to get drunk and accidentally loses some clothing again."

"Andraste's ass, don't remind me," Varric groaned. "The pants are eyesore enough. Besides, it's not like Mae needs any more incentive."

"What's this?"

With a shake of his head, Varric said, "Tiny and Mae. I'm starting to think Tiny has a thing for Vints, and I know Mae admires a man with strength. My cousin was a solid wall of muscle. That, and she's a real flirt. She even flirts with me sometimes, and she was all over Alistair."

"Alistair?" Cullen asked in surprise. "When?"

"Remember that caper I told you about with Alistair and Maric?" Varric asked. "Mae got mixed up in that mess, too."

"You really need to write that story down sometime," Cullen told him.

"No, I really don't." Varric shuddered. "Some things are better left only in memories. Anyway. Time to take the Bull by the horns, I guess. Wish me luck."

As he watched the dwarf ride to where Bull rode his scaly mount near the carriages of the delegation-ostensibly for protection, though now Cullen had to wonder if that were the only reason-Cullen's mouth curved into a frown again. He strongly suspected that Amell was behind the red lyrium which had been mixed in with his healing potions, and Varric's offhand comment about Amell made him stop and think.

Amell was a Grey Warden, and had endured whatever rituals the Grey Wardens performed to render them immune to the effects of the blight. And red lyrium, as Dorian and Varric had learned, was lyrium corrupted with the taint of the Blight. Did that help Amell to use or control red lyrium in some mysterious fashion that not even Corypheus would know about? Try as he might, Cullen could not recall an encounter with a Grey Warden afflicted by red lyrium, but he had to admit that there were so few Grey Wardens left, and red lyrium so scarce, that it was hard to imagine how he would have encountered such an individual.

Yet his mind could not let the thought go.

Were Grey Wardens immune, or at least resistant, to red lyrium? And if so, could that help him somehow? The mail shirt helped, but he had learned to take short baths and limit his time without it due to the impact the resurgence of the twisted, tilted song inflicted on his mood. He could survive like this, but he couldn't thrive .

Making a mental note to bring the matter up with Dorian and, later, Dagna, Cullen rode the rest of the day's journey in thoughtful silence. Perhaps they could do more than simply hold the red lyrium at bay.

Perhaps they could find some more hope.

When they arrived at the inn, Cullen went out of his way to ensure that the troops were housed properly, unlike the last place where the innkeeper had tried to offer a muddy field for their use. Once the soldiers' camp had been set up to his satisfaction, he reviewed the roster and selected the night's patrols so that each round would only need to walk for three hours. Tomorrow they would arrive at the Winter Palace, and he wanted all his troops to be as well rested as he could manage.

Satisfied that things had been settled, he left his lieutenants in charge and headed to the main building of the inn proper. Large and expansive, this one also had the distinction of having sufficient rooms that all the dignitaries had their own quarters rather than having to share. He retrieved the key to his own room from the inn's house mistress and headed to the stairs, pausing only when he heard someone call for him.

A smile came to his face as he turned and gave a salute. "Inquisitor."

"There you are," Dorian said with a twinkle in his eye. His gaze dropped for a moment to contemplate Cullen's lips, then rose again as one corner of his mouth rose ever so slightly.

Maker. "I was attending to the disposition of the troops, ser," Cullen explained.

"Ah, yes. Last night was a disaster." Wrinkling his nose, Dorian added, "I sent someone ahead this morning to ensure it wouldn't happen again here. Are they well taken care of?"

Grateful that Dorian had thought to arrange things for his troops, Cullen smiled. "Everything is more than satisfactory, Inquisitor. Thank you."

"Excellent." Dorian gestured upstairs. "We were all just about to sit down to dinner in a private dining room on the third floor. I've been assured that the room provides an absolutely fantastic view of the night sky. Won't you join us?"

"I could use a good solid meal," Cullen mused, then grinned. "But I suppose this one will have to do."

"Ah, ha. Letting your Fereldan prejudices show, I see," Dorian chuckled. "Let's go, shall we?"

As they moved down the corridor, continuing small talk about inconsequential matters, it was difficult not to reach out and take Dorian's hand in his own. Instead, he kept an eye out for the room name engraved on his key. "Here's my room," he said as they reached the end of the corridor and the bottom of another flight of stairs. "Ours."*

"That's probably not how the Orlesians pronounce it," Dorian noted with a chuckle. "Still, it appears they took my request to heart for you. I asked for one at the end of the building with a large window." Dorian tapped the number on the door, then glanced up at Cullen. "Perhaps we should verify that part, yes?"

"It shouldn't take long," Cullen agreed as he unlocked the door and led the way inside.

He had just long enough to notice the room was empty and the curtains closed before he found himself pressed up against the swiftly closed door. Dorian's lips closed over his hungrily as hands took two fistfuls of curly blond hair with an urgency which made Cullen moan softly. His own hands reached out to land on Dorian's hips, tugging him closer until there was no air between their bodies save their own breaths.

When Dorian released him, he didn't move away but instead pressed his forehead against Cullen's temple so that his lips caressed Cullen's ear. "Your Inquisitor has missed you, Commander."

Maker. Just the feel of Dorian's mustache brushing against the shell of his ear was enough to make the heat rise in his body. Pressing a lingering kiss to Dorian's ear in return, he murmured, "Your Commander awaits your orders, Inquisitor."

With a sigh, Dorian pulled away reluctantly. "Alas, that order has to be dinner. With the others, I mean. I simply... needed a moment with you."

Cullen reached up to press a finger to Dorian's lips, then let his fingertip trace the line of Dorian's lower lip, especially the sensitive part on the left side. "I'm glad," he said quietly as Dorian shuddered and bit his lip. "I'm not sure we'll get many chances for these stolen moments in the next few days."

"Then we'd better make sure to find some more later in the evening." Dorian stole one more gentle kiss, then stepped back. "But if we do anything more at this moment, I won't be strong enough to open that door any time soon."

"Agreed," Cullen said fervently. Cautiously he pulled the door open, checked that they were still alone, then opened it fully and bowed Dorian through. "Let's go. I'm famished."

"For food?" Dorian teased him as he strode into the corridor.

In response, Cullen slapped him smartly on the backside before he got out of reach, the sound of impact drowned out by the thick cloth of Dorian's travel outfit. "That, too." He knew he would pay for it later, but had no regrets whatsoever. Ignoring Dorian's glare, he casually turned to lock the door, then gestured towards the stairs. "Shall we?"

After dinner, he retired to his room rather than endure the last minute discussions between Dorian and the others about the tactics they would all employ for the Orlesian Game. It was all politics anyway, and Cullen knew he had little insight to offer them in that field. He discovered that some, if not all, of the reports had come in from his lieutenants, as had some reports from Charter's agents in Skyhold, so he sat down at the desk and slowly went through them.

When the knock came at his door, Cullen didn't even glance up from the report in his hand. "Come," he called, and after the door clicked closed, he added, "Did you bring the third patrol group's report? For some reason it's missing."

"That's because I took it."

Cullen started, staring up at Leliana for a moment before surging to his feet. "You're back!" A moment later, he paused and looked around the room of the inn. "Wait. How did you-"

"I'm the Inquisition's Spymaster, Commander," she reminded him. "If I can't find the Inquisitor while he's traveling, I wouldn't be very good at my job."

"Good point." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "We didn't expect to see you, l admit. At least not until after the party."

"Ball," she corrected automatically.

Brow furrowing, Cullen asked, "What's the difference?"

"A party is for enjoyment," Leliana explained. "A ball is for the Game."

"Of course it is," Cullen said, rubbing his forehead for a moment as he pointedly ignored the amusement on her face.

"I saw the extra carriage in the stable," she noted. "The Tevinter entourage arrived, I presume."

"They did, two days before we left Skyhold," Cullen confirmed. "The welcoming ceremony went probably about as well as you might expect."

"I would imagine that Josephine prevented too many international incidents," Leliana said with a hint of amusement in her voice. "She wasn't in her room when I first looked."

"Ah, no, they're having a last minute discussion about political strategy for tomorrow," Cullen explained. "Trying to make sure that when a fire starts, nobody's dangly bits get burned."

A smile touched Leliana's lips. "I'm not sure that's how Josephine would describe it. Sera, perhaps."

Cullen looked a bit sheepish. "Oh, well, there was a bit that happened with her and my desk and wobbling and… Well, it's all better now. But that's why I'm not up there with them. I'm a soldier, not a diplomat." Cullen paused a moment, searching for what to say, and finally settled for honesty. "I'm glad you're back, and I know Josephine and Cassandra will be, too. And the Inquisitor."

"And Charter. I'll go to see her next, of course. But first..." Cullen watched her move to stand near the window, putting herself in the shadows even as she ensured she could see outside without obstruction. "I'm sorry I left with so little warning."

"I admit, it did catch us a bit by surprise," Cullen admitted, then took a deep breath as he braced himself. "Leliana… about Alistair-"

She held up her hand in a swift motion. "Don't. The birds told me."

He bowed his head. "He was very brave."

"And very foolish," she snapped, then stopped and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that."

"No need to apologize," Cullen said hastily. "It's been rough for all of us since Adamant. But when you disappeared and didn't send any updates-"

"Did Josephine not get my second message?" Leliana asked, glancing at him for a moment.

He shook his head, frowning. "No. Nothing."

She frowned. "That's odd. I sent it a few days ago. It should have arrived before the Tevinter entourage. I'll work with Charter to figure out what happened. Sometimes even ravens can fall." Her eyes moved to the outside again. "I've learned a great deal about Calpernia during my absence, some of it more useful than others."

"You didn't have to leave to do that," Cullen pointed out. "You could have sent someone else."

"Not in this instance."

Cullen opened his mouth, then hesitated, wondering if this was something he should press her on. Finally he shook his head. "I still find it hard to believe that was the only reason you left Skyhold."

Leliana paused, and for a moment she went as still as a statue. Finally she shook her head. "No. That is not the only reason. I…" After a deep breath, she continued. "The nightmares started almost as soon as you left for Adamant. The details, they were too accurate, too real. I knew it couldn't just be normal dreams. So I went looking for him myself."

She didn't mention a name, or specify who, but Cullen instantly knew. "Maker," Cullen breathed. "Why didn't you tell us?"

For a long moment Leliana didn't answer. When she turned to look at Cullen, he was struck by the hollows under her eyes. "It was a personal matter," she said softly. "And I felt ashamed of giving it priority over Inquisition business."

Cullen straightened as he suddenly realized that Leliana would not have heard the truth about Mailani's death. Certainly that hadn't been put into any message sent back to Skyhold from Adamant. "You shouldn't feel shame," he said in a firm tone. "There have been some developments when it comes to Amell and the Inquisition."

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Tell me."

He did so, though the telling raised some anger in him still. As he spoke, Leliana closed her eyes and listened attentively, taking in every word. Her questions were sharp, and when he didn't have the answer, she would press her lips together, then nod. By the time he reached the end of what Dorian had told him, her hands clenched tightly at her sides.

"He will pay for this." Her voice was void of all emotion save one: hate. "More than that, he must be stopped."

"I agree with you," Cullen said with a nod. "It is clear he has ambitions, even if we do not know his ultimate goal as we do with Corypheus. The fact he was seeking to take the Anchor from Mailani troubles the Inquisitor greatly."

"And also makes Inquisitor Pavus a logical target for whatever Amell plans to do next," Leliana said with a frown.

Cullen's teeth clenched at the very thought of it. It was obvious, but that didn't mean he wanted to dwell on the prospect of Dorian in Amell's clutches. "We can't let that happen," he said grimly. "If he learns that the Inquisitor is attending the ball-"

"We must assume he knows," Leliana said sharply, "and plan for it."

"You're right, of course. And if that is the case, perhaps the presence of the Magisters will prove to be an unanticipated boon." Cullen sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. "And those are words I never thought I'd say."

Leliana's lips twitched ever so slightly. "I would think that true of any southern Templar."

"Ex-Templar," Cullen reminded her absently, still frowning. "Perhaps we should warn them directly about Amell. At the moment, they think the only concern are the Venatori."

"Or let the Inquisitor decide how much to tell them. He is the one who knows them best, after all," Leliana pointed out. "And we don't want the Inquisition to appear weak, either."

Making a face, Cullen made a dismissive gesture. "Politics."

"True, but they are necessary, Cullen," Leliana said, a hint of humor back in her voice.

Cullen made an exaggerated sigh, just as happy that the very dangerous side of the Spymaster seemed to have subsided. "Unfortunately, yes." After a moment of gauging her mood again, he stepped forward and laid a hand on her arm. "You should talk to Dorian about your dreams," he urged. "He's developed some sort of ward that helps to protect our dreams from Amell. I swear it works."

Her body shivered ever so slightly. Had he not been touching her, he wouldn't have even noticed a reaction, since her face remained neutral. "I will discuss the matter with him. A Spymaster should not be distracted. By anything."

He frowned slightly at the edge her voice gained in her last few words, easily recognizing hardness used to cover fear. He'd mastered it himself at Kirkwall, after all. "Are you all right, Leliana? Amell…" He paused for a moment, then forced himself to continue. "He knows how to worm his way into people's minds, is all. Something we both know from personal experience."

Her shoulders sagged ever so slightly. "Sometimes I forget that you were once subject to his whims as well," she said softly. "At least you didn't labor under the mistaken idea that it was simply a test from the Maker to gauge your faith."

Cullen's eyes widened. "Is that what you thought?"

"During the Blight? Of course," she said bitterly. "I had a vision that the Grey Warden would save us all from the coming darkness. He would be hailed as a Hero. I started to write his saga in song. I tried so very hard to give him reasons to be… the way he was. He was raised in a Circle and treated poorly. He'd watched his best friend betray him with blood magic. He'd been nearly killed by darkspawn in Ostagar. On and on. But they were lies." Her gaze grew distant in a way that had nothing to do with what she saw and everything to do with the past. "And the worst part is I made them all myself. He never had to give them to me. I just had to make myself believe in them."

Cullen closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry you had to endure that, Leliana," he told her.

"And I'm sorry I didn't see the truth sooner. Divine Justinia and I spoke of the matter extensively, but I spent far too long doubting my own worth and sanity." There was a peculiar blankness about her expression which Cullen knew all too well. He'd seen it in the mirror often enough after he'd left Kinloch Hold behind.

"Not to mention what he did to you," Cullen ventured cautiously, unsure how to respond.

She swallowed. "I would prefer not to speak of that at all," she whispered.

"Of course. My apologies," Cullen said hastily, then cast about for another approach to the discussion. "Did you find anything? About Amell's activities, I mean."

She shook her head. "Hints. Whispers. A murmur of a Crow with a unique tattoo here, a rumor of a hooded figure passing through the night with a staff that glowed red elsewhere. Nothing more. I did send a pair of trusted agents to investigate an abandoned Warden's keep in Ferelden, but I won't hear back from them for a few days at the earliest. The only thing I've learned is that the Venatori know nothing about him. If he's working with Corypheus, even they don't know about it."

"I suppose it was too much to hope for," he said softly.

"That snake knows how to hide when it suits him," Leliana said in a venomous tone. "I'll talk with Charter about it when I see her next."

"Good idea." Cullen grimaced and ran his fingers through his hair. "I hate not knowing what he's up to. Just because he's not obviously allied with Corypheus doesn't mean his intent isn't equally evil."

Leliana nodded slowly, her eyes studying him closely. "Do you still dream of him? Even after the Inquisitor's aid?"

"Memories, yes, but nothing more. He's gone." He sighed, absently drumming his fingers on the table in frustration. "I'm not sure what can be done about what remains aside from enduring the nights. I wish I had something more helpful to tell you, but I've yet to discover a cure for the horrors inflicted on my soul."

Her jaw rippled as she gritted her teeth. "Then that is what I will do. Endure."

He frowned. "And nothing more than that?"

"For a short while I thought I had hope for something more," she said, voice tight. "But that was taken from me." Before Cullen could even think of how to respond to that, Leliana shook her head. "But that is of no import now. How many of the Imperium are with us?"

"Ah… Three. Magisters Pavus and Tilani, and-" Cullen paused, realizing another explanation was needed. "And Felix Alexius."

Her eyes widened. "The Magister's son?"

"The same. Apparently he and his father managed to escape Redcliffe, but were then beset upon by darkspawn in the Frostbacks. Felix was saved by Grey Wardens." When her expression hardened, Cullen added, "I spoke with him, as did Lady Vivienne and Iron Bull. If he's influenced in any way, they could not see it."

"Which Grey Wardens saved him?" Leliana asked as her eyes narrowed. "Did he say?"

"Nathaniel Howe was the name he mentioned," Cullen told her. "A Fereldan Warden, not associated with the ones stationed in Orlais."

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though she didn't seem entirely reassured. "I know of him. He worked with Amell in Amaranthine, but left a year or two ago, when Amell was still playing Warden-Commander of Ferelden. What little I could learn seemed to indicate that his disappearance was a surprise to Amell."

"That sounds much more promising than working with Amell," Cullen admitted. "Regardless, Vivienne is keeping an eye on him. He rides in the same carriage as Tilani, and either Vivienne or Dorian is always in the carriage with them."

"Very well. That will have to do for now." Her eyes moved once more to the window. "I presume they won't present themselves as Magisters to the Orlesian Court?"

Cullen had to chuckle at the thought. "No. They'll be posing as Orlesian nobles and a servant. We left all the Imperium soldiers at Skyhold."

"Did Krem remain at Skyhold?"

With a nod, Cullen stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm having him keep an eye on the Vints, and Dalish is helping to keep an eye on the rest of the Imperium contingent herself. I will say that Dalish and her, ah, bow have proven to be surprisingly useful at detecting mage-work. Even though she is definitely not a mage," he added with mock gravity. "Oh, and of course the Templars remained in Skyhold, in plain sight of the remaining Imperium delegation. I'm not sure they would be welcome in Orlais anyhow, not after the showdown in Val Royeaux with the Chantry and the mess at Therinfal Redoubt."

Leliana nodded, face calculating. "Good. I will be conducting a quiet review of them when we return to Skyhold, of course, but Charter said that she didn't find any Venatori agents in their ranks. We can hope I find a lack as well."

"What did you learn about Calpernia?" Cullen asked.

Now a frown touched Leliana's lips. "She is not what I expected," Leliana admitted. "She was a slave herself once, and bloomed into her magical instruction later. In some ways, she sounds a great deal like the Inquisitor: she loves the Imperium, but is frustrated by what it has become. Everything I have learned of her points to her viewing Corypheus as an opportunity not just to restore the Imperium, but also to correct what she sees as its flaws."

"Huh. That… does sound like the Inquisitor. Not the working with Corypheus part, of course, but the rest." Cullen frowned in thought. "What flaws is she most concerned about?"

"Slavery, it seems. She has expended considerable effort into bringing slaves out of the Imperium to use in the ranks of the Venatori. I can only conclude that she somehow believes Corypheus will support her in this."

Cullen shook his head slowly. "That seems a dubious hope at best."

"It is only a guess on my part," Leliana admitted, "based upon what I have found. But it's clear she has a passion to aid those enslaved."

"And it offers the potential for a rift between her and her new master if he does not commit to her goals," he mused. "Tension in the enemy ranks is usually a good thing, right?"

"We can hope." With a small sigh, she turned away from the window and looked him up and down. "You seem to be recovered from the wounds you received at Adamant."

"After a lot of resting and too much being useless, yes," he said, hearing his tone only when her expression became amused. "And no, before you say, it I was not-"

"-grumpy. And yes, you very much sound like you were," she told him with a smirk. "Almost as grumpy as when you think about the Game, or Orlais."

He couldn't help but bristle a little bit. "Now hold on-"

"Tell me I'm wrong," she said with a little twitch on her lips.

Which, of course, he couldn't. Herded into a corner, he snapped his mouth shut and glared at her for a moment before he finally gave an aggrieved sigh. "I have my reasons," he groused. "I'm a-"

"-soldier, not a courtier, yes. I know." Leliana smiled sadly. "You aren't the only one who's said that to me."

Cullen winced internally. "I'm sorry, Leliana."

"As am I. But there is nothing to be done about it." Her gaze turned towards him, an edge to her expression she hadn't had before. "Unlike Corypheus."

He nodded, straightening to attention at the reminder. "Which is tomorrow. As I said, I am glad you've returned. I'm certain the-"

A knock sounded on his door then, a sudden burst of sound which made his head snap around and Leliana melt into the shadows after drawing her dagger. "Come," he called, his own hand falling to the hilt of his sword.

The door opened to allow in a particular dark-haired gentleman who at this moment had a frown on his face as he looked at a piece of paper. "Commander, do you have a minute? An odd report just came in that we'd like to discuss with you."

"We?" Cullen asked, just before Josephine appeared behind Dorian. Glancing at Leliana, who had nodded and put her dagger away, he said, "Of course, Inquisitor. I also have a report to make."

"Oh?" Dorian looked up at him, apparently every bit as tired as he sounded. "Nothing earth-shattering, I hope."

"It's good news, actually." Cullen smiled and nodded to Leliana. "Our prodigal bird has returned."

"Leliana!" Josephine gasped, then ran to hug the woman in a fierce embrace. After a moment, she pulled away again, blushing. "Ah, that is, I am glad to see you are safe."

"I'm fine, Josie," Leliana said, a little smile on her face. "There were just things which needed to be investigated which I could trust to no one else."

"That sounds rather ominous," Dorian mused.

"Yes and no, Inquisitor." Leliana sighed and leaned back against the wall, looking out the window again.

As Josephine closed the door, Dorian pulled over some chairs for them all to use and took one himself. "Why do I have the feeling that we have quite a bit to talk about?" he asked with a weary chuckle.

"Because we do, Inquisitor." Leliana waited for them to get situated, then reached into her pocket and withdrew a pouch. Setting it on the table, she said, "I retrieved these from the house of a merchant in Val Royeaux. A man by the name of Vicinius."

"Vicinius? That's a Tevinter name," Dorian noted.

Leliana nodded. "I traced a connection between him and Calpernia, so I went to investigate. I found several dead bodies within, all killed in a similar manner to other victims of the Venatori."

Dorian sighed. "So she ordered him killed."

Leliana nodded. "Not for the reason you might suspect, however," she noted. "Apparently she was paying him to smuggle slaves out of the Imperium. She found out he was mistreating them, and decided to punish him for it."

"That-" Dorian's eyebrow rose. "That sounds...not so evil. On her part, at any rate."

"It matches up with what I have been able to learn of her," Leliana told him.

"Yes, yes. She was a slave herself, as I recall, serving a member of the Soparati." Dorian frowned a bit, then looked at the pouch. "What are 'these,' then?"

"I found them in the house of Vicinius. I think he was keeping them in hopes of using them against her, should she find out about his dealings. Apparently she took action against him before he had a chance to implement the plan." Tugging open the pouch, she poured the contents, a large glowing red crystal which reminded Cullen uncomfortably of red lyrium, onto the table. "When first I touched them, they rendered me unconscious. Thankfully no one discovered me while I lay vulnerable."

"Caution noted," Dorian said with a nod.

"Them?" Cullen peered at the large crystal warily. "I only see one crystal."

"I had Dagna repair them when I arrived at Skyhold," Leliana explained. "Perhaps a day or two after you'd left. Once she had completed it, I followed you. But even she said to handle them carefully."

"Ah, ha! So that's how you knew where we were," Cullen said with a grin. "Morris gave you the travel plan, I take it?"

As Leliana nodded, Dorian examined the crystal, though he didn't reach to pick it up yet. "It looks like a recording crystal. Those who can afford to buy them in the Imperium use them to record agreements and contracts, though they can be used for other purposes. It belonged to Vicinius, then?"

She shook her head. "I can activate it when I wear gloves," she explained. "They're recordings taken of Calpernia, clandestine ones. This Vicinius must have had an agent in her midst."

"That's odd. Magic usually doesn't distinguish between cloth and skin." Dorian nevertheless picked up the bag and used it to hold the crystal as he scrutinized it further. "This is absolutely dusted with magic, though, more than anything Dagna could have done to it. And the recording spell is one I'm familiar with, though a bit old fashioned. Whoever Vicinius hired to re-activate the Shaper's spell must have had very traditional training. A Tevinter Circle mage, perhaps. There are plenty for hire up in the Imperium, after all." He smiled for a moment. "Or perhaps I've just been around innovators for so long I've developed a distaste for the old ways." Setting the crystal down carefully, he looked to Leliana. "What's the gist of the conversations?"

"She mentions a Shrine of Dumat," Leliana said with a frown. "I've come across the phrase before. It seems to be serving as some sort of headquarters for the Venatori, a place for their leaders to meet. Calpernia hasn't been invited there yet, and she was complaining about it."

"Dumat. Hmm." Dorian's gaze grew distant for a moment. "The God of Silence. Corypheus was rumored to be his High Priest, so that's not surprising. Do we know where it is?"

Leliana shook her head. "Not exactly, no, though I may have a strong lead. Right after you left for Adamant, I received reports of an ancient Tevinter ruin in northern Orlais that was infested with Venatori. My people managed to gather enough information to learn that someone of importance was imprisoned there, and stole several abandoned satchels of notes which turned out to be research notes about the properties of red lyrium."

"Ah, yes. And you gave those to Dagna, yes?" Dorian asked, sending a glance to Cullen. The glance made Cullen acutely aware of the mail shirt next to his skin, and he wondered if he was happy knowing the origin of Dagna's notes for its construction. "And you think this might be the Shrine?"

"Yes, Inquisitor. My agents never could learn what the Venatori called the place or why it was so well guarded, but based on the conversation in the crystal, I would put it at the top of the list for possible locations." She paused, then tapped the table with a frown on her face. "I would need to refer to my notes on my map at Skyhold to pinpoint the location exactly, however. There are many ruins in Orlais."

"Fascinating. A Tevinter ruin dedicated to Dumat. I can see why Corypheus would choose to use it, if that is true." Dorian frowned in thought. "We'll discuss this further once we return to Skyhold. Anything of particular interest to Corypheus or Calpernia should be of interest to me. Perhaps I can make that my next mission after the Winter Palace."

"As you say, Inquisitor," Leliana said with a half-bow.

With a brisk nod, Dorian picked up the piece of paper he'd brought in with him. "At any rate, we should figure out what to do about this report from the agent Charter sent to the Palace ahead of us." He held out the paper to Cullen. "It states the number of troops our agents were able to spot entering the Winter Palace over the last few weeks."

"I sent those agents to Halamshiral before you left for Adamant," Leliana said. "The Game operates on a large scale, and I wanted to ensure we had a good a view as was possible."

Cullen scanned the paper, a frown coming to his lips. "This is rather more than I would expect for a party, even a party with all the nobility of Orlais gathered. I notice it doesn't mention anything about who they belong to."

"They would have entered without heraldry," Leliana explained. "Someone would have added them to a list when they arrived, but only if they were seen entering. And the right sum in the right hands would ensure that those set to watch would look elsewhere." Her brows drew together. "Were they able to discern Chevalier from Imperial Guard? I gave them sketches to work with. Traditionally, Chevalier would side with Gaspard, and of course the Guard would serve Celene."

Cullen's eyes quickly ran over the message. "They just note that the troops entered the palace dressed in plainclothes but with large amounts of luggage suitable for transporting armor."

"The Empress must know this as well," Josephine pointed out. "Surely our agents were not the only ones watching for precisely these maneuverings, even if the Game dictated no official notice."

"She would know, yes. She is no fool, nor are the rest of the House de Chalons." With a sigh echoing an unusual weariness, Leliana rubbed her forehead for a moment. "The letter has nothing more than numbers? Nothing at all?"

"It just mentions something about how the Council of Heralds are all present save one," Cullen said, reading the last part. "I'm not quite sure what that part means, actually. It mentions something about-"

His sentence never finished as Leliana snatched the paper from his hands to read for herself. "The Council of Heralds? For what are supposed to be peace talks?"

"Surely they would be there regardless," Josephine said.

"Not in that number. Usually only half of them would attend a function such as this," Leliana replied, face thoughtful.

Despite an honest effort to concentrate on the conversation, Cullen quickly got lost after that, since apparently he was the only one who didn't know what the Council of Heralds was or why it held such importance. He let himself settle back in his chair, taking advantage of the women's distraction to study Dorian with a frown.

His Inquisitor looked more haggard than when they'd stolen their moment before supper, which made Cullen wonder just what had happened during the consultation with the Magisters. A treacherous certainty crept into Cullen's mind about who, in particular, might have been responsible for Dorian's evident change in mood and energy, and it wasn't the woman Dorian clearly counted as a friend. He turned his frown down to his hands, wishing that he could have some privacy with Dorian, and soon.

And not just to ask him what had happened. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed whiling away an hour or two with Dorian until they had left Skyhold and hadn't been able to find even ten minutes without someone running to Dorian or himself with a question or a request of some sort. Maker, all he wanted was to get Dorian alone so he could rip open those maddening buckles and-

"Cullen?"

He blinked, then looked up to find the three of them looking at him expectantly. With an embarrassed cough, he quickly straightened in his seat. "Ah, sorry. I was...calculating based on the new information." Yes, that sounded much better than admitting the truth.

"We were just going over a few last things before we arrive at the Winter Palace tomorrow," Dorian said in a cheerful tone. "I asked about the status of the troops."

"Ah. Yes, Inquisitor." Jerking his mind away from things he really shouldn't be dwelling upon, Cullen cleared his throat and concentrated on the reports he'd been going through when Leliana had entered. "Ah, we have a good force of mixed elves and humans, in case some of them need to infiltrate the servants' quarters. With Leliana returned, I'll coordinate the final version of the signals we'll all use to identify ourselves to each other to avoid confusion. Oh, and I've picked out your honor guard."

"My what?" Dorian asked, eyebrow rising.

"Your Honor Guard, Inquisitor," Josephine told him. "All guests of a certain rank need one at least when they arrive." When Dorian's expression turned to amusement, she added in a prim tone, "We do have to maintain standards, Inquisitor."

"Naturally, Ambassador," Dorian said with a laugh. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten." Dorian focused on Cullen again. "Anything else, Commander?"

"No, Inquisitor," Cullen said, glancing over his report just to make sure. "They've all been selected for their familiarity with Orlesian customs, so they should be able to mingle if necessary with the other guest's soldiers as well. Which, it seems from that last report you got, they have definitely brought in."

"Some of those soldiers will belong to Gaspard," Leliana declared. "Perhaps most of them. He is a military-minded man, and would not walk into a situation such as this without a sizable retinue, peace talks or no. For all he pretends to loathe the Game, he can use it with blunt force or a subtle touch as necessary. His personal retinue will be Chevalier, but I would also be wary of more, especially if he suspects Celene of bringing in forces of her own through the secret passages."

"There are secret-" Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course there are."

Leliana's lips twitched from evident amusement. "Many of them collapsed in the fire which tore through the Palace recently, but I must assume some are still open."

Cullen snorted and shook his head. "Peace talks. In Orlais, that just seems like a pretty name to cover up the dirty deeds below."

"And in the Imperium, it's a pretty name for a blood bath, usually. I rather prefer the Orlesian version," Dorian noted.

"Well, I for one am not going to dance to its tune," Cullen said firmly. "Or to any tune."

"Do you not dance, Commander?" Josephine asked with a tilt of her head.

"Put a pig in silk, and you'll end up with dirty silk," Cullen said.

The phrase made Dorian's eyebrow rise. "Is that a Fereldan way to say no, or are you confessing to something far more startling?"

"What? No, I mean… Yes, it's a Fereldan saying." Cullen reached up to rub his forehead. "I'm a soldier, not a dancer. I'll leave that frippery happily to someone else."

"Pity," Josephine murmured. "You do have such beautiful calves."

Cullen blinked. "P-pardon?"

"And that's enough for this meeting," Josephine said cheerfully. "I must depart now, as I have an engagement for a card game."

Cullen stared as Josephine practically ran to the door, wondering if Varric had managed to figure out how to profit from the card game. If anyone could, it would be Varric.

"And I need to speak with Charter," Leliana told Dorian. "Should I need to speak with you after, I will send word."

"I am at your disposal," Dorian assured her, rising to his feet to give her a bow. "I'm sure you won't have difficulty finding my room."

She smiled faintly. "I wouldn't be a very good Spymaster of the Inquisition if I couldn't track down the Inquisitor," she said in an echo of what she'd told Cullen earlier, then inclined her head before moving silently to the door.

"Maker," Dorian breathed once the door closed behind her. "I thought they'd never leave."

"Nor I," Cullen said, in the next moment pushing himself up from his chair.

They met somewhere in the middle, with Cullen seizing the initiative first to claim Dorian's lips in a searing kiss. As their lips parted, Dorian had a twinkle of humor in his eyes. "Eager, I see."

"Very." Cullen considered Dorian carefully, his thumb gently caressing Dorian's cheek. "You're tired."

"I am. The ball has been some time in the future for so long, it's still a little startling that the future now means tomorrow. And it will be all politics and maintaining a facade and searching for secrets. How very dull." Giving a little sigh, Dorian settled his hands on Cullen's wrists and slowly traced upwards. "Nothing as straightforward as clumping someone in the head with your staff because they looked at you funny."

"I thought the Imperium was all about politics and facades and secrets," Cullen pointed out. "I'm usually the one complaining about not being able to apply my sword to any situation."

"Well, obviously you've been a poor influence on me," Dorian said, one corner of his mouth rising. "Surely I can't have changed, can I?"

"Oh, no. Never that." Cullen smiled as he leaned in for a soft kiss. "You're perfect, remember?"

"Mmm. Quite." Dorian frowned as his fingers reached Cullen's shoulders, then dug in. When Cullen grimaced, Dorian made a tsking sound. "And what have I told you about putting rocks here?"

"It's the saddle," Cullen admitted. "No matter how silken smooth an animal may walk, there's no way to make a saddle comfortable without giving it so much padding that a stiff breeze can blow you off."

"Which is why carriages have doors," Dorian noted, though no invitation to the carriage followed-for which Cullen was grateful. If he had his way, Cullen would never ride in a closed carriage again. "We could talk to Dagna to see if she could come up with something more clever than a mountain of pillows. I somehow think she would have some fun with an odd little project like that. A breath of fresh air in between working on the next phase of your armor."

The reminder brought a frown to Cullen's face, and he let his hands drop to Dorian's hips as he pressed their foreheads together. "I'm not a fool, am I, to hope that she finds something more permanent than a cocoon of metal?"

Dorian's fingers moved to stroke up and down between the nape of Cullen's neck and his tunic. "If that is your definition, then we are the both of us fools," he murmured. "But I prefer to think that hope is never foolish."

Eyes falling shut, Cullen tried to force himself to relax, but it was hard to just push all the concerns away. The mail shirt was a constant reminder that Cullen had to keep his guard up, and they still didn't know exactly what had happened with Dorian in Skyhold's jail, though nothing seemed to have come of it since. "I hope you're right."

The next few moments slipped by in silence as Dorian wrapped his arms around Cullen and squeezed him tight, then just… stayed that way. Taking the cue, Cullen returned the gesture, savoring the intimacy that spoke more to the worry in his heart at the moment than another kind might have. Finally Dorian turned his head and pressed a kiss to Cullen's cheek. "You will let me tackle that tension someday, won't you? When we have time?"

Cullen smiled slowly as he leaned back and caught Dorian's eye. "As long as you promise it won't be just a dream this time."

Dorian's eyes widened. "I'd almost forgotten about that."

"Well, I never did." Cullen felt warmer just from the memory of that dream. "Especially when you stroke my neck like that."

"Did you truly know it was me in that dream?" Dorian asked, raising his hands to return to the task of easing Cullen's tension.

A heat rose in Cullen's cheeks. "I... didn't know it was actually you in my dream." After all, Dorian had invaded his dreams on occasion. It simply hadn't been so very literal before Mailani had interfered.

Dorian's eyes widened for a moment, just before one corner of his mouth rose in a cocky smile. "Oh. I see."

"Maker," Cullen breathed, then hauled Dorian close enough to kiss that smirk away. Judging by the soft moan against his lips, he succeeded in his aim, but that goal swiftly faded in the face of that moan. Time and duty melted away as one kiss led to another, and hands started to roam. It was only when Cullen felt deft fingers opening his belt that he realized just how far they'd gone.

He reached down and took Dorian's hands in his own, letting their kiss break with a breathy chuckle. "Now who's eager?"

Dorian's eyebrows rose in clear surprise. "You don't want more?"

The question gave Cullen pause. Raising Dorian's hands to his lips, he held them tightly as he met Dorian's eyes. "I do. I very much do. But I also want everything else as well."

"Whatever do you mean?" Dorian gave a little laugh, almost convincing Cullen that the man was truly nonchalant and not worried in the slightest. Almost. "It's not as if everything is truly available until the clothes come off."

Cullen's face softened, and he dropped Dorian's hands so he could reach out and cup his face. "What if I want to weave flowers in your hair?"

Dorian blinked. "Pardon?"

"Or what if I want to hold your hand while we stand on your balcony in Skyhold? Or fall asleep under the stars in my bed after a long, boring day without you? Or spend a good hour just learning what makes your breath quicken when I trail my hands all over your body? There are a lot of things I want to do with you in addition to everything primal." Leaning in for a kiss, he slowly explored Dorian's lips with just enough heat that he managed to earn another small moan from Dorian. When he pulled back, he knew his smirk was in full force. "Besides, I don't want to tire you out for tomorrow."

Dorian licked his lips slowly. "I hope that is a promise for later."

"Oh, it is," Cullen told him fervently. "When you give me the order, Inquisitor, I will ensure that you are unable to rise from the bed afterwards." He leaned in and brushed his lips against Dorian's before whispering, "And then I'll do it to you again. On a table, if need be."

A shudder ran through Dorian's body. "You drive a hard bargain, Commander."

Cullen couldn't help but smirk. "Believe me, it's hard for both of us."

"Evidently." Dorian's hands settled on Cullen's hips and drew him close, providing a further proof to Cullen's words. "But I do agree that a sufficiently primal romp tonight will not benefit either of us on the morrow. Pity."

"There are alternatives," Cullen reminded him with a chuckle. "We can still be together."

Dorian tilted his head to one side, brows pinching together ever so slightly as he studied Cullen's face. "And explore some of that everything else for a while?"

Cullen couldn't help but smile in response as he pressed his forehead against Dorian's. "As much as we can."

A definite smirk came to Dorian's lips. "Is that an order for your Inquisitor?"

"Consider it ongoing advice from your Commander, to be followed as necessary," Cullen replied with a chuckle, then laid his hand high on Dorian's chest so that his fingertips could slowly stroke up and down Dorian's neck. "Whatever tomorrow brings, I will see you on the other side of it."

For a brief moment, Dorian's hands tightened on Cullen's hips. "Is that a promise, Commander?"

"A vow, Inquisitor," Cullen murmured. "And nothing will make me forsake it."

Or you.

He left that part unspoken, for now. Dorian had enough to think about, and he would need all his wits about him the next day at the Winter Palace.

Besides, Dorian had already ensured that Cullen's lips were too busy for talking.

*Ours: The French (and presumably Orlesian) word for bear. It is pronounced very differently from the English word.