Steel clanged against steel in the small clearing just south of Red Lion Hold. Cullen barely allowed himself time to recover before lunging forward, swinging hard and fast. For the first time in a long time, his mind was blissfully blank, without worries of the hold's stability, of Katrina's safety, of anything.

Cassandra stopped his blade short with hers and shoved him backwards. Rather than give her thane any advantage, she pressed hers, steel biting through the air as she swung. He narrowly darted out of the way, a small cut on his bicep the only indication that he was getting tired.

Even so, they kept at it. He had come to her, furious about something. He had been pacing in her and Galyan's home, trying to find the words to voice what had angered him, but he hadn't been able to. Even if he could have, it wouldn't have done justice. Words could only get so far. Actions. Those were what mattered, and those were why he was so angry.

Finally, Cassandra had told him to come with her out here. She'd provided the weapons. By the Lady, but she was a good arena master. She could have taken Cullen there, but it would have garnered an audience, and he didn't want to deal with that just yet. She must have known, hence the privacy of the woods.

In the last few months, Cullen had kept up with his own skills, but he had spent so much time with Katrina, so much time reining in his attacks, making sure he didn't hit her too hard, making sure that she was able to learn from her mistakes, rather than simply feel that she was hopelessly outmatched.

While it was good for her, it made him feel restless. He had too much energy and—as much as he loved spending it in other ways with Katrina—he'd just needed to give in to his anger, his rage.

He didn't want to hurt her. Perhaps someday when she was better with her daggers, he could bring her out here, and they could get lost in a different kind of rhythm from what they were used to.

Or perhaps not. He and Cassandra had always found comfort in these sparring sessions. It felt odd to even consider doing this with someone else, even Katrina.

They'd come out there before the sun was up, and it was well overhead by the time they were finally both sprawled out in the grass, breathing heavily and reveling in the weariness that left their limbs heavy.

"What bothers you, Cullen?"

He wondered if he hadn't fallen out of shape despite his efforts, considering it took him a few gulps of air before he could find his words. And even then, he settled on a mere grunt.

They lay there longer, the sunlight dancing down around them lazily before he finally summoned his voice. "The Shadow Wolves weren't responsible for the massacre at the Veilfire Caverns."

Quiet.

The wind rustled the leaves around the edges of their clearing, like distant whispers of Gods watching the warriors with curiosity.

"It was the noble?"

"Yes."

"So this Lowlander has been playing with our people for years upon years?"

"They have."

"Yet we have not suffered any other travesties."

At that, he scoffed. "The only thing that cold-intolerant bastard did to our clan was take away a most holy site. Aside from that, we were too far away for them to care about us."

"So, you mean they have been toying with the Avvar in general for so long." Cassandra mused before adding, "We had already established that with other antics brought to light. They poisoned the Spindlewebs' goats almost twenty years ago to get them to move deeper into the mountains."

"Who knows when they'll come after us again?"

"This is not enough to anger you so." He could barely see Cassandra sit up from the corner of his eye.

"We have spent years hating people—the Shadow Wolves—for something they didn't do. I'd say it's enough," Cullen muttered. How many skirmishes had there been between their clans? How many times had he shrugged off deaths on the other side because they deserved it?

His anger had mellowed as he'd aged, and he'd seen the pointlessness of the continued fighting, advocating for a terse truce when he'd become thane, and yet even then…

Even then, when he'd heard of misfortune falling on the Wolves, a little part of him hadn't cared in the slightest. He'd started worrying over Mia, over the loss she would feel, but he'd never cared much for the Wolves' losses. It wasn't until outsiders had started their assaults that he'd begun to feel any type of sympathy toward Thane Blackwall and his people.

And to think…

Of all the things that had happened, of all the things that they might have deserved, it had been the damned things he'd pitied them for that they'd brought upon themselves.

Or rather, that Thane Blackwall had brought upon them.

In truth, even now, most of the Wolves didn't deserve to lose their hold as they had.

But their thane…

"Blackwall made a deal with the noble who's been behind everything. Or rather, a 'representative' who came on their behalf."

Taking in a deep breath, Cullen shoved himself up into a sitting position. As he crossed his legs, he shook his head, sending bits of dirt and grass blades falling from his curls to the ground. His hair was drenched, cooling sweat still clinging to his skin. It made the growing heat of the day more bearable.

When he looked toward Cassandra, her brow was drawn together, lips dipping into a deep frown. "You say he has allied himself with this noble?"

"Yes… Well, not quite…" Cullen covered his face with his hands. Slowly, he let them fall to his lap. "I don't think he knew this noble was hurting his clan, or so many others. They approached him and offered a trade. He was to raid certain caravans. In exchange, they gave him cloths and Lowlands resources." He thought back to the stores that the Shadow Wolves had kept, to how full they had been. When he'd seen them, he assumed them the earnings of bountiful raids. He'd never considered they might be payment for services rendered.

"So he raided who they wanted him to raid, and they gave him extra things to reward him for letting other caravans go through or…?"

"Something of that nature," Cullen murmured. "They did this for a few years, so when he got word to attack one of the caravans, he didn't realize there was a family traveling with it until it was too late. They didn't kill them, but the cold did. The Lowlands family made it to one of the nearest outposts to wait for help, and the noble made sure another clan raided the only caravan that might have found and saved them."

Cullen tried to keep his breathing even, but he couldn't. With a strangled cry, he punched the ground beside him. "They're using us to kill off the people they don't want in the way. That family, Katrina, if they'd had their way…" He shook his head. "How many people have the Avvar 'taken care of' without even realizing we were playing into their hands?"

Even as Cullen considered picking up his blade and seeing if Cassandra could keep sparring, she spoke. "So the reason they were able to steal from the Wolves' raiders and hunters was because they were basically directing them when and what to attack?"

"I'd guess so."

Cassandra cracked her knuckles slowly. "And they attacked the Wolves' hold to… what? Make sure that the Wolves didn't tell anyone?"

"My guess is they felt their time working with the Wolves was at an end, and they didn't want any witnesses." He ran his fingers through his hair. His skin felt like wretched things were crawling just underneath it, and he couldn't shake it. "They do that a lot, apparently. Sever ties once someone becomes inconvenient."

His mind wandered to Katrina. She'd shaken him awake early this morning with what she'd found from the journals that Cole had given her. It had taken her a few minutes to wake Cullen up, but once he'd been up, he'd wished that it could have been a dream.

To know that his people meant so little to the higher ups in Orlesian society…to know that they'd been used. Even if most of the atrocities hadn't been committed against Cullen's clan, it was still too much. To know that his hate had been misdirected, to know that Thane Blackwall had betrayed the unspoken honor of the Avvar to do such base dealings with the Lowlanders, to know that Katrina planned to go back to the Lowlands to deal with whoever this was—the list of suspects was narrowing daily.

It was too much.

He couldn't let her go back to that awful, awful place. What if she never came back? What if she got caught up in some new tangle of web they'd yet to uncover?

He couldn't send Rosalie into that monstrous lair, either. She might be an adult, but she was still his little sister. The thought of her being ensnared in some diabolical plot was horrifying.

All of it made his stomach churn.

After a few more minutes of silence, Cassandra finally rose to her feet. "We should get back to the hold." When Cullen merely waved for her to go without him, she sighed, gathering most of their things. She left Cullen with a sword, not that he would likely need it so close to his own home.

When he was alone, he cracked his jaw, wondering what he could do. Most of the slights had not been against him—in a twisted way, it was thanks to that lurking bastard that he'd even met Katrina—but he still felt like something needed to be done.

He needed to do something.

But how could he? Perhaps if the noble lived near the mountains, he could rally a few other clans and they could raid the noble's home?

Even if they could, it would be a terrible idea. After all, according to Amelia, the Lowlanders were looking for a reason to march against the Avvar.

As he looked up, gaze sweeping the area without an intended target in mind, he found Cole sitting in front of him, legs crossed and chin cupped in hands, the God's elbows propped against his knees. His pale eyes were honed on Cullen's face, as though he'd been watching the thane's thoughts with an idle interest.

"I'd wager you know what should be done."

"Know…?" Cole straightened up and tilted his head. "I…no. No, I don't know." He picked at one of his ratty gloves. How odd that a God would wear such weathered clothes. "I do wonder, though."

The God had been a bit more sense of late, though he still occasionally slipped into whispering others' thoughts. Cullen nodded toward him. "And just what do you wonder?"

…-…

Katrina had finished with all of the journals that Cole had brought for her. She'd told Cullen what had been in them, and he'd stormed off. She doubted he was mad at her, but she still felt terrible. Though, to be fair, what had she expected to find? That he and his clan had been miraculously spared from all the devious scheming? That no matter what, the Lions would be safe from the noble's reach and wrath alike? That they could live happily ever in their mountainous home?

She, Amelia, Zevran, Morrigan, and Rosalie sat silently in Zevran's room, none of them looking at the other. Rosalie's reading wasn't good enough to contribute to their work, but even with so few books left they hadn't needed it.

And anyway, that wasn't why she came by every day.

Zevran pattered her hand that was clasped with one of his, the reassurance largely lost as Rosalie was steeped in her own thoughts. Her head rested against his shoulder.

Katrina wondered what Cullen would do if he learned that her elven friend had taken a shine to his little sister. And she to him.

Cullen…

If he hadn't liked the answers she'd had for him this morning, he was going to be even less pleased with their latest one.

Their last one.

The answer to the riddle that had started all of this, really.

Who sat at the middle of this sordid web?

Morrigan abruptly rose to her feet. "I shall return to my clan. I will be gone by sunset."

At that, Rosalie's head snapped up, brow furrowing. "You're just going to leave?"

"What else am I to do? We sought answers. We have them. Your clan was never to get involved in this mess. My task was to find out who my clan needed to seek to repay the thefts and decimation of our home. My thane will wish to know what I have found."

"But still—"

"Your involvement was merely because of your thane's inexplicable attraction to the Lowlander we needed to translate. Your lot never needed answers, yet you have them. We did. My people still do."

Rosalie rose to her feet. "We lost warriors in that raid, too—"

"You lost, what, six, seven people? We lost our home. We lost warriors and hunters and elders and children," Morrigan hissed. "Do not think we stand anywhere near the same in terms of losses. My time here was always to be temporary. I have my own tasks to tend to that do not involve the Lions."

With that, she practically fled the room.

Without thinking, Katrina followed after her, though it wasn't until she was standing in the doorway to Morrigan's room that she thought to say a word. "You can't possibly think to fight back."

"I will let my thane decide what we will or will not do." Morrigan sniffed. She was already beginning to pack her few things into a small satchel. "Though I suspect you know more of our plight than the others, do you not?"

"What?"

"I know you took the journals I hid," Morrigan snapped. "No one else would have dared touch anything in a space gifted to me as a guest, no matter how little they wanted me here. It had to have been you. Or perhaps you had your sister or that elf take them? It is a shame; I had thought you had a semblance of honor, what with all those speeches about justice for a sister who doesn't even need it."

Katrina couldn't help but flinch at her words, despite feeling like Morrigan's secrecy had been unfounded. "Cole brought them to me. He thought it would help."

"Cole?" Morrigan echoed, turning to eye Katrina with a suspicious look in her eyes. "You know of Cole?"

"He's been helping me for months. Since the night the Orlesians attacked your hold…or maybe longer. I didn't really start remembering him until around then."

At that, Morrigan fell silent. She crossed her arms, holding her chin a bit higher. "And here I'd thought he only let me remember him."

"Cullen, too," Katrina offered with a sympathetic shrug. "Aside from the three of us, I don't think anyone else knows about him…maybe the augur."

With a tut, Morrigan sat down on her bed, picking idly at the sheets. "He really retrieved the books for you?"

"Yes."

"Then I suppose I should not doubt a God's judgment."

Her tone said she was doing just that. Katrina tentatively stepped inside the room, walking over to her. "Your clan can't just march into the Lowlands and exact vengeance. You'd be cut down before you even got close enough to do anything. And people would say it was proof that the Avvar really are a threat."

"You think I don't know that?" Morrigan hissed. "Thane Blackwall has dealt more with Lowlanders than I. He will be able to think of something."

"Why don't you just contact Dorian?" Katrina offered. When Morrigan's eyes widened, Katrina twisted her mouth to the side, tugging on her vest. "I caught you talking to him once."

Morrigan sat up even straighter, her indignation seeming to add an extra inch to her spine. "I see." She seemed to consider what Katrina had said a moment before looking Katrina over with a critical eye. "I take it your beloved thane already knows then?"

"I told Rosalie," Katrina admitted. "She said she wasn't surprised…and seeing how Cullen reacted to Garrett's sneaking into the hold—"

"Thane Everburning snuck into the hold." It was a statement, not a question.

Rolling her eyes, Katrina waved off the subject. "It was a while back. It's…anyway. I didn't tell him because it didn't seem that big of a deal." She paused, appraising Morrigan. "Why? Should I have? Are you plotting to overthrow the Lions?"

Morrigan snorted. "Like I'd want to stay in this abysmal hold longer than I have to."

"How reassuring."

Both of them turned to see Cullen standing in the doorway, arms crossed. Even as Morrigan muttered something about privacy and returned to gathering her belongings, Katrina hopped off the bed and trotted up to him. When she reached him, she slipped her arms around his waist and leaned against him. "Come in for your nap?"

"It is hot out," Cullen murmured, running a hand through her hair and leaning down to press his forehead against hers. "Care to join me?"

Morrigan scoffed.

Katrina couldn't help but smile at that, though it was short-lived.

"Before that," Katrina squeezed Cullen a little tighter, brow knitting together. Perhaps she should wait to tell him what they'd discovered. He circles under his eyes were darker than usual, and she had a feeling he could probably use some rest before she told him. However, when she met his gaze, he looked…calmer. And he was thane. He had to be used to getting bad news, frequent or not. Taking in a breath, she steeled herself. "We know who's behind the plots against the Avvar."

His free hand had found its way to the small of her back, and he absentmindedly pulled her closer when he straightened up. "Who?"

Katrina considered making him promise not to be angry, but it was pointless. She was angry. She wanted to throw things and scream and kick anyone who tried to quiet her in the face. She wanted to declare the world unfair and just find another one to live in that wasn't nearly as miserable.

That was rather impractical and beyond juvenile, however.

And yet, the adult thing to do left no clear way for recourse.

As things stood, even knowing who it was meant little. After all, there was nothing they could do to level the scales, to bring the justice that Morrigan had pointed out she so often ranted about.

Loosening her grip on him, she peered up at him. "It's Celene Valmont I, the empress of Orlais."