"Anna Hawke's back."

Lady Evie and Ser Cullen are enjoying their evening tea—jasmine, all the way from Rivain, with some biscuits—when a harried agent barges into my kitchen.

"Summon the War Council," she tells the agent, suddenly serious. All of them scurry out the door, without so much as a glance to me, tea and biscuits discarded.

"Leftovers, cleaning up, it all falls to me, and tomorrow I must make some more so that they can leave leftovers and things to clean up," a creepy but familiar voice chants behind me.

"Maker! Didn't Lady Evie tell you something about that?" I screech, then immediately regret it when I see Cole's puppy face. "Why do you do that, Cole?"

"I like helping people," he tells me. "You help people too, you make them happy, by giving sweet food. You don't let other people get hungry. I like you. I want to help you."

"Aww, thanks," I answer him kindly. I briefly wonder if spirits know how to wash plates. Or if they eat. I suddenly feel guilty about the leftovers thought. It's rather unfair to deny what little joys Lady Evie gets from sharing tea and biscuits with her Commander.

"Want a cookie or some jasmine tea?" I ask.

"What's a cookie?" Cole asks back. I offer him an oatmeal cookie from one of Lady Evie's cookie jars, and pour us some tea.

"You are very kind, Ellie. But why do people eat cookies after they had breakfast, or lunch, or dinner?" Cole asks again. "Don't those make them full already?"

"I think they eat cookies because cookies make them happy," I say as he finishes his cookie with evident relish. "But it doesn't make people as full as when they've had dinner."

"Evie likes cookies, and cakes, and brownies, and sweet puffs," he chants as he helps me with my chores. "But Cullen doesn't. Cullen likes steak, lamb stew, hard bread, food for a soldier. Why does Cullen eat cake even if he doesn't like it? Why do you give him cake when you know he doesn't like it?"

"He does that to make Lady Evie happy," I answer, though the question's on my mind too. "Sometimes the heart does things for reasons reason itself cannot understand, even if the tummy slightly disagrees."

"You're not happy here," Cole tells me. "You think you can be something more, too."

"No, that's not true, kiddo," I say. He's getting creepier than usual. I don't like folks reading what's on my head. "Well, I think I should open up my own café in Val Royeaux, call it Val Caffeine, sell fancy coffee, tea and cakes, but I don't want to leave Lady Evie."

"You want to help Evie" he says, ignoring my statement. "You want to spy on bad people, report to the Nightingale, help the Inquisition in important things. You think your cakes and cookies and teas and coffees are not important to Evie, and that cooks are only a little useful to the Inquisition. Why do you call Leliana Nightingale?"

"Because she sings real beautiful," I answer, grateful that Cole switches topics. "Nightingales sing real beautiful, Leliana does too, so she earns it."

"But birds don't hurt people. Sometimes, Leliana hurts people," he protests.

"Oh, kid, I don't understand her myself," I tell him and offer him another cookie.

"I like cookies and jasmine tea. And I like you, Ellie. Just like Evie does. Thank you for the cookies and the tea. They were delicious."

And he disappears just as mysteriously as he appears.

Over the next few days Lady Evie and the big bosses strategize on their siege of Adamant Fortress. For a while, I busy myself with helping prepare food for everyone, even as I prepare Lady Evie's special rations. Our little army of cooks spend every waking moment preserving meats and baking breads, while the mages enchant box upon box where rations would be kept. Finally, the army march to the other end of Orlais, and it's been days since I gave Lady Evie her enchanted lunchbox containing an assortment of cookies, chocolates, and tea leaves. I miss her, and I try not to think what might happen to her and the others as well.

Only a skeleton force remains in Skyhold. One afternoon, as I help clean the mess hall, the Nightingale appears in the kitchen, looking for me.

"Something I can do for you, milady?" I ask.

"Yes, Chef," she says. "Can you bake me some sans rival cake?"

"Certainly, milady," I tell her. "But I keep all the cake flour in Lady Evie's personal kitchen."

"I'm sure she won't mind, or notice, if you use some of those ingredients for me," Lady Leliana answers.

I sure can't argue with that. I bid Rina and the others goodbye, and lead Lady Leliana into the Inquisitor's personal kitchen. But a small part of me feels odd—this kitchen, my kitchen, is Lady Evie's personal space. It's almost like betraying a trust. At the same time, Lady Leliana is also a boss, not to mention, she gave Lady Evie the title of Inquisitor, not the other way around. So in a way, she's Lady Evie's boss.

Urgh. I don't like thinking this way. So when I open the door to the kitchen, I proceed to busy myself with flour, eggs, and sugar.

"You work silently and intently," Lady Leliana comments. "Such a serious demeanor from a pastry chef always churning out sweet food."

"Milady," I nod. What do I tell her? So I just smile at her briefly, unable to look her in her pretty eyes, and continue baking.

But mixing ingredients is only half the process of baking. The other part entails waiting for the cake batter to cook inside the oven. So I can't really use the I'm-busy-baking-don't-break-my-concentration ruse now.

"Do you remember our conversation in Halamshiral?" Lady Leliana asks.

"Yes, milady," I say meekly. It just occurs to me that I feel far more comfortable in the presence of the military commander than with the seneschal. Well, Ser Cullen has an adorable and awkward side to him, especially when Lady Evie's involved, but Lady Leliana is the Spymaster. I just feel weird. It's like she judges me with every stare, weighing my worth with every breath.

"The Inquisition can use a spy in the kitchens of the powerful," she tells me. "One can never have too many spies in Val Royeaux or elsewhere. Your perception is good, but can be improved. But your ability to keep secrets is not. I don't imply that you will actively betray us, rather, your face tells everything about you. A counter-agent can easily detect you if you use a cover as a scullery maid. But if we put you in a kitchen or café, as a cook or as a waitress, you can serve food and be able to listen to conversations, because nobody expects that kitchen aides are spies. More importantly, you can note if something is out of the ordinary by what, when or how people eat. And you will have to learn cipher, so that you can send your reports via raven."

I stare at the floor, as if I were a child caught in wrongdoing. Which I'm not, but I do it anyway.

"You have doubts, yes?" Lady Leliana continues. "But I believe you want to serve the Inquisition. Cooking sweets for the Inquisitor can be done by any other cook. You, on the other hand, have something else that most other cooks do not. Think about it."

"I think the cake's done baking, milady," I answer, and take the cakes out of the oven. It's still hot. I layer them, putting buttercream and nuts between the cakes, and topping it with meringue and more nuts.

"You do serve tea, or coffee, or any other beverage?" Lady Leliana asks.

"Apologies, milady," I say, "but I've sent all my tea leaves and coffee beans with the Inquisitor and the Commander." A half truth, I know. I've sent all the tea and coffee in this kitchen to Lady Evie and Ser Cullen. That doesn't mean there are no other tea leaves in any of Skyhold's other kitchens. And the Spymaster knows that for sure. Well, in my defense, I can claim that all the ingredients in this room are mine, just as Rina can claim that the stuff in the tavern kitchen are hers. Even if we can't use them for our own ends.

"My offer's on the table, Ellie," Lady Leliana tells me as she takes a bite from the cake. "Mmm, this is good. No wonder Evie loves you and your kitchen. And you don't have to fear me, Ellie. Unless you don't remain discreet about my offer, or you lie to me when you report."

She smiles at me, and gestures that I should eat with her. And I do.


A/N: Many thanks to those who prod me, like AgapeErosPhilia, to write this story! Real life's a b-tch sometimes, especially if one's a struggling student. Thanks also to JayRain and Loverofallfiction for their kind reviews, and to the members of the Dragon Age Fan Fiction Writers group in Facebook. :)

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