I have a cold again. Someone please kill me.

Apostate

There was no need to call for Cole - he had apparently heard my intent and was waiting for me on the balcony at the top of the trellis. He helped me clamber inelegantly onto the tiled floor, and then offered his hand to pull me to my feet. "I hope Sera doesn't miss you too much," I told him dryly as I dusted myself off and then accepted his proffered arm, even though I knew he probably wouldn't understand the irony.

He hesitated. "She says it was better before, when she worked without others worrying, compelling her cooperation, but she means that it's nicer now." He shook his head and then fixed me with a beseeching gaze.

"I imagine she finds her enjoyment of this new arrangement embarrassing," I told him, "and would rather no one inspect it too closely. Or," I added as another possibility occurred to me, "she's afraid this won't last, and would prefer to believe she was happier before she had people to care about her. Perhaps both."

"Oh." He tilted his head as though listening. "Yes, I think so."

The balcony didn't lead to the guest wing, but rather to the library. There were, however, some interesting notes and letters lying about, which Cole rounded up for me. I skimmed them and then gave them back, asking that he deliver them to Leliana when he had the chance.

Solas was also there, which in retrospect seemed like an obvious place for him to be, even though the main doors were locked. I had found my way in, after all.

He was looking at - I had to peer closely, squinting - what appeared to be a bust, probably a former ruler of Orlais, though the name affixed to the plinth meant nothing to me. There were other, similar shapes that suggested a group of such busts. Solas held a book in one hand, occasionally looking down to consult something written there.

"Are you hiding?" I asked him.

He laughed easily, and I suspected he might be drunk. "No, quite the contrary - I do adore the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeates these events."

"You seem more comfortable with a grand Orlesian ball than I think most people would expect from an apostate mage," I told him, trying to keep my tone bland, even if the words couldn't be read as anything other than pointed.

He didn't even falter - internally or externally. "I have seen countless such displays in my journeys in the Fade. The powerful have always been the same. Only the costumes change."

"All right - what are you doing here, then?" I wondered.

"Much the same thing you are, I suspect," he answered. "Exploring. I am one of the less noticed members of our party, and can therefore slip away more easily than many others. Anyway, I judge I've solved this puzzle, and now only need to verify I have not made mistakes."

"Puzzle?" I echoed, uncertain what he was talking about.

I had drifted closer to him as we spoke, leaving Cole behind, and now I was near enough to catch the self-satisfied smirk he sent my direction. Definitely drunk - or tipsy, anyway.

With a gesture and a whispered word, braziers I hadn't noticed on the plinths began to light, one by one, and now I recognized that there were two columns of them. There was a scraping sound of stone-on-stone, and a staircase opened at our feet. "Not much of a puzzle, in the end," Solas said, sounding as though he pitied whoever had created it.

The stairs led to a room that seemed half storeroom and half study, with chests and boxes piled along one wall, and a desk heaped with correspondence in the center. There wasn't time to do more than glance through all the papers, and only a few pieces were of any interest, but Solas did manage to find an alchemy recipe in one of the chests that I thought Sera might want to see. I copied it down on a blank piece of paper I found in the desk and gave that to Cole to carry, too.

After we had emerged from the secret room, Solas extinguished the flames with a gesture, and the floor slid closed again.

The sounds of scraping stone had hardly faded when Cole abruptly announced that he would deliver the recipe and the various pieces of potential blackmail material we had found, and disappeared. I didn't understand his hurry until Solas's hands grasped my hips, pulling me close enough for him to lean in and capture my lips, his tongue immediately invading my mouth. He tasted like the wine punch smelled. Someone had handed me a glass of it at one point, though I hadn't tasted it then, handing it off to Cullen as soon as possible. My balance was already poor enough with adding drunkenness to my challenges and disadvantages.

I certainly had no objections to Solas kissing me since we had managed to find a few moments of privacy, and clung to his shoulders, wishing I were in something less unyielding than armor. "You move with such grace through this pit of vipers," he told me softly. "I have watched with envy, wishing I could be the one to leap to your defense as they strive to despise you - and fail, more often than not."

"I'm sure plenty of them hate me," I replied, knowing I should probably care about that but finding the sensation of Solas's breath tickling my lips too distracting to give it any particular attention.

"I'm sure they do," he said, his lips twisting into a smile filled with complicated emotions - I identified compassion, defiance, and pride, and then lost track as he continued speaking: "I said despise, though, which implies a certain quantity of condescension is involved. None but a fool comes from a conversation with you thinking they are in a place to condescend to you. Hatred at least implies they take you seriously."

"All right," I agreed with a tolerant smile of my own, not caring enough to argue about it. "I will accept all your nuanced word definitions so long as you come away from this conversation understanding that you should stop talking and kiss me now."

He laughed, pleased, and lowered his mouth to mine again - only to be interrupted by a bell summoning everyone to the ballroom. Our sighs were perfect mirror images of our mutual irritation.

Solas released me, placing one last soft kiss on my lips, and then made certain nothing had been knocked askew by our all-too-brief tryst, adjusting my coronet with a critical eye and smoothing the silk tied around my hips. "I'll take you to the door to the vestibule and then descend the way I came in," he said. "We shouldn't be seen leaving together."

He put his arm around my waist and I leaned into him, savoring our last few moments together before duty and intrigue pulled us apart again. It wasn't a long enough walk to the door, but once there he paused to brush one last kiss against my cheek. "Go down the stairs and then turn right to get back to the ballroom," he instructed me, aware that my sense of direction was, at best, poor. "Ar lath ma, ina'lan'ehn."

My fingers caressed his jaw briefly. "Ma serannas. Ar lath ma, vhenan."

We parted.

It took me a little time to cross the vestibule and find the doors to the ballroom, even though there was no one to hinder me. There were few even to see me - most had already gone in. Those left outside might have been servants, but I hoped that my unhurried pace was stately rather than fumbling anyway. It wasn't as though servants didn't talk.

The second bell rang just as my hand touched the door to the ballroom, but someone spoke before I could pull it open. "Well, well, what have we here?" a sultry voice asked. I turned and saw the aura of a mage approaching, her hard-soled shoes - definitely not dancing slippers - tapping against the stone floor. "The leader of the Inquisition, fabled Herald of the faith. Delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of Blessed Andraste herself."

I couldn't place her accent, but the slightly mocking quality to her words was clear enough. I raised my chin, pasting on a small, amused smile and waited for her to come to the point.

"What could bring such an exalted creature here to the Imperial Court, I wonder? Do even you know?"

"Perhaps no one knows," I replied. "On what basis do we assume that any particular intrigue is rooted in reality rather than in some noble's fevered imagination?"

"Ah, but are the powerful bound by reality, or do their fevered imaginings help give it shape?" She went on without waiting for an answer. "I am Morrigan. Some call me advisor to Empress Celene on matters of the arcane." She was close enough by then for me to make out something of her features - pretty, I suspected - and her gesture when she invited me to follow her. "You…have been very busy this evening," she observed, "alternately charming and confounding the guests, and still finding the time to hunt dark corners of the palace for whatever it is you seek. Perhaps it may turn out you and I hunt the same prey?"

"I wouldn't know," I replied, remembering Josephine's admonitions. "Do we?"

That made her laugh - an unexpectedly nervous sound. "You are being coy," she accused.

I hesitated. "I am being careful," I said after weighing the words.

Morrigan let out a breath, leaning against a balustrade. I thought we might be beside the stairs that led outside, but wasn't entirely certain. I at least knew which direction we had come from, so I thought I would be able to find my way back to the doors. "Care is not unwise, here of all places," the apostate allowed after a moment. "Allow me to speak first then." She straightened. "Recently I found - and killed - an unwelcome guest within these very halls. An agent of Tevinter."

"Are you certain?" I asked, both surprised and a bit suspicious.

"If the cultist robes weren't sufficiently revealing, his attempts to kill me 'in the name of the Elder One' certainly were," she responded acidly, before calming herself with another breath. "I offer you this, Inquisitor," she held out her hand, "a key found on the agent's body. Where it leads, I fear I cannot say. Yet if Celene is in danger, I cannot leave her side long enough to search. You can."

I accepted the key, but couldn't help observing: "And yet you are not by her side now. Is that wise?"

"I must return to her anon, but she is safe enough…for the moment," Morrigan replied. "'Twould be a great fool who strikes at her in public, in front of all her court and the imperial guard."

I feared subtlety was far from Corypheus's greatest strength, but didn't say so. "You're making an impressive display of your care for her safety," I said, letting the implied question hang between us.

"It might appear so, certainly - but after all, Inquisitor, are you not the one best positioned to investigate these matters? How can you tell the difference between a display and simple competence?" She had a point - I couldn't deny that. "I will voice this observation for your benefit: if anything were to happen to Celene, eyes would turn first to her 'occult advisor,' even those that knew otherwise. I believe, in fact, the mere threat has already caused some to do so."

Again - she wasn't wrong. Both Briala and Leliana had pointed me toward her as the likeliest lead.

I caught the flicker of her lashes as she observed the effect her words had on me, but her next words were grim rather than coy or seductive: "There are sharks in the water, and I will not fall prey to them. Not now, not ever."

"A shame you had to kill the agent," I said, not addressing her claims. "He might have had useful information."

She sounded frustrated, but I wasn't certain whether it was with my questioning or her own failure. "I do regret that I could not capture him alive. Still, I would not have known, in all probability, the right questions to ask, nor could I have left him alive for any great length of time. What intentions the Imperium has here, I suspect you know far better than I."

Yet another good point. "Briala's people have been on edge all night, or so my own agents tell me. She may have an idea of the source of the key."

"The ambassador does have eyes and ears everywhere, does she not?" Morrigan sounded impressed. "Still, I advise you to proceed with caution, Inquisitor. Enemies abound, and not all of them aligned with Tevinter." She moved away from the balustrade, and I followed. "What comes next will be most exciting," she assured me, her voice low and wicked, and I found myself doubting her all over again.

She left me just outside the ballroom door, and, taking a breath, I finally made my entrance.

Ina'lan'ehn: Beautiful