Fuck.

"I see the recognition in your eyes, so allow me a proper introduction. I am Briala, spymaster of the exalted Empress Celene."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Of course the second Cullen let his guard down someone would show up to attack them. He was never going to trust any of Katrina's small outings to get him to lighten up again.

As his hand went instinctively to his hip only to grasp at air—his sword was back in their room—he cursed quietly to himself. At least they were on the same page there, though… When she looked over at him, she could see that he was debating if he ought to rush the elf before she could do whatever it was that she planned to do. Trying to think of how to keep things at least partially in their favor, Katrina moved up closer to him, pulling his hand around her waist.

At first he was puzzled. No doubt, his mind had stuck on the fact that Katrina had never seemed much like the type to want to be defended. However, as she slipped his hand around her, she made sure his palm brushed over the cool grip of a dagger tucked into the back of her belt. In her half-awake giddiness to show him something nice, she was sort of amazed that she'd managed to think of self-defense at all.

While a dagger wasn't something Cullen would normally fight with, she had a feeling that having some type of weapon would make him feel marginally better.

"Please," Briala held her hands up, empty. She likely saw some of Cullen's confidence return, and would have even if she hadn't been a spymaster. He was rather easy to read, when it came to his emotions—something she treasured, even if it might get them killed now. After all, she was generally an open book, too, wasn't she? "Surely there is no reason we cannot be civil for a moment?"

"You intend to kill us," Katrina hissed, giving up on any attempt at a foreign accent and letting her Starkhaven inflections shine through. If this elf was indeed the empress' spymaster, there was hardly a need to insult her with such a simple attempt at a disguise. "I don't to see what civility would be found in that."

"I intend to speak with you and learn more of your intentions, dear lady," Briala replied, a carefully groomed smile in place. Behind her mask, Katrina could barely see the glimmer of her eyes. "For example, it has become somewhat noticeable to those who pay attention that something—or one—seems to be working against our great empress."

Katrina straightened up a little, as much as she could on the awkward slope of the roof. She wanted to stand, truth be told, but feared the action would incite some sort of conflict. Instead, she shifted her weight to her knees, ignoring the pinch of the roof tiles beneath her. "She's not my empress."

"But she did avenge your dear sister, did she not?" Briala paused, appraising the two of them carefully. "You are Katrina, yes? I would assume, in the least, that the one sneaking off with an Avvar gentleman would be not the pirate twin."

Katrina drew in a slow, measured breath to steady herself. There was no sense in getting flustered or indignant. That would leave her susceptible to damn near anything and had to be what this elf wanted.

From the corner of her vision, she could see Cullen frown. Likely, he couldn't quite keep up with all that was being said, something that would lend to his already considerable unease. They were exactly where Briala wanted them.

What was that Avvar saying about Lowlanders' greatest weapons being their words?

She'd just have to show him that as much as she liked the mountains, she was a Lowlander, too. Surely she wasn't completely incompetent, even if she never had liked politics. Perhaps she could buy them enough time for…

For what? For Amelia to wake up and see her note, to find the way to the roof and come with an arsenal?

That seemed a little farfetched.

Cullen's fingers curled around the dagger's hilt, but Katrina reached out and squeezed his other hand, warning him to wait.

When she realized that Briala was still patiently awaiting an answer to her question, Katrina frowned. "She set me up to be murdered."

"And what would make you say that, dear lady? Have you any proof of so strong an allegation?" Briala paced easily across the roof, stopping a few feet short of them, unconcerned with any attempts they might make against her. "Whoever you've been talking to in the woods seems to have rattled your mind."

Cullen scowled. "She is fine."

For the first time, Briala seemed to really look at him. Her head tipped to one side, arms crossed so casually, as though they were discussing the weather and not treason. "That is quite an accent. It is no wonder no one believed that you were Ferelden." She paused, shrugging. "If it is any consolation, even with a perfect accent, you would have had trouble. You do not smell of wet dog as they do."

Rather than try to respond, Cullen simply glared.

"What is this, then?" Katrina asked. She glanced around the rooftop, half expecting other assassins to be lurking—that was what a spymaster was, wasn't it? A glorified assassin? The three of them seemed to be alone, however. Katrina wondered how true that actually was. "You intend to persuade us not to act against the empress any further?"

"So you admit that you do?" Briala cocked her head the other way. "Act against her?"

Katrina stiffened. Of course she was giving secrets away left and right. What half-dazed stupor had made her think she could take on an Orlesian in a game of words, even if it was their only option? It was almost better that they just run for the ladder. The elf might be carrying a weapon, but perhaps if they were fast enough…

Even if Cullen was, Katrina wasn't. He'd stay back to keep her safe and…

What to do, what to do? She could try to play off words, try to misdirect, try to…

Or she could just face that she was the way she was and go with that.

It had worked well enough for her thus far, had it not?

Cullen seemed to sense the change that came over her. "Be careful, love—"

"We do. We most certainly act against that vile thing you call an empress. She is an arrogant monster who overreaches and doesn't even recognize the worth of any life aside from her own." Katrina held her head up a bit prouder. "I'd rather stand against that than enable it any day."

"And you are so different from her?" Briala asked, shifting her weight and standing a bit taller herself.

That she would even ask that was offensive, but Katrina managed to keep her wits about her. She had a feeling if it came down to a fight, Cullen would be the first target, as he was clearly better built for combat than she ever would be. She wouldn't be able to defend him, and she didn't want to see what tricks the spymaster might have that could bring him down. "I do not manipulate others to further myself, no."

Briala laughed faintly. "You Marchers are so literal. Let me rephrase: Were it not for her actions against you, would you even care what manipulations she did?"

That gave Katrina pause. If Amelia had never run away from home, if the Comte had not been a bastard, would she have ever looked at the empress long enough to see anything other than a distant ruler who meant next to nothing to her? And even if she had, would she have left the safety of Starkhaven, if her own family was safe? Her gaze dropped slightly, and she took in a breath before meeting Briala's expectant stare again. "I like to think I would have. I suppose I can't know, for sure, as this is how things played out."

One corner of Briala's lips quirked. "You are as honest as they say. It is a pity you could not be more discrete in your actions. Were you born a rogue or a thief, you might have gotten further."

Katrina glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was sneaking up on them and then looked back at the elf. She still stood where she'd been when Katrina had taken her eyes off of her. "So what now? Is there to be a daring fight? Or are you here to tell us we've been poisoned somehow, and you're just making sure it works?"

"My, but you do have quite the imagination," Briala laughed. This time, she dared to step a pace or two closer. "Keep your man in check and let us find some common ground."

Cullen hissed something too soft for Katrina to make out beside her, and she glanced at him to see that he did indeed look ready to simply tackle Briala off the roof. He might die in the process, but he'd take his enemy down with him. Katrina squeezed his hand again. "I somehow doubt we will."

"I told you that I am the empress' spymaster, but that is not entirely accurate."

"So you admit you lie," Cullen hissed.

"In a word, yes. I wanted to see what you would do," Briala replied. "Would you try to backtrack, claim there to be a misunderstanding? Would you praise the great empress of Orlais in desperation, praying for favor? Would you prove to be just as loathsome and miserable as every Orlesian noble I've spent my life watching and gathering notes on?"

"The journals are yours," Cullen murmured, without thinking.

"An astute assumption, though, again somewhat inaccurate." Briala let her arms swing down to her sides briefly before crossing them, never taking her gaze off of them, even once. "While I was the one to pen them, they are my former lady's work. Do not doubt that."

"So you helped her manipulate all these people? The Avvar?" Katrina asked, eyes narrowed.

At that, Briala frowned. For the first time, she lowered her gaze, and it felt almost as though her mask had slipped. "I did a great many things for my empress, but I always felt that I was doing what was right. I was wrong. Celene…the empress, as you so eloquently stated, does not care for any life that is not her own." She walked over to them at this point, kneeling before where they were still crouched. "I would use my past mistakes to make things better."

Katrina and Cullen exchanged a wary glance. Cullen was looking to Katrina questioningly, as though she—being a Lowlander—would be able to decipher what was truth and what was fiction. Maybe if she'd ever learned to play this damnable game, she could have.

Finally, she looked back at the elf. "You want us to give you the journals, don't you?"

"I want to use them," Briala clarified, standing back up. "As great as people claim the Orlesian Empire to be, there is much that needs fixing. I would use those journals to…persuade change."

With a quiet swear, Katrina was tempted to use her damn knife herself. That this elf would be so blunt… to admit that she planned blackmail and to do exactly what was being done over and over in this country…

Though, Katrina and Cullen had fallen to this too, hadn't they? Their noble allies were…no. They returned secrets, rather than using them against their owners. Surely, that was different?

Did Briala think they could be manipulated so easily?

And how could she be so calm? Even crouching, it had to be obvious that Cullen was far larger than the elf, that he would probably be able to take her in a fight.

For the first time, Katrina thought to look past their own roof, to those surrounding them. Something glinted near another chimney from the shadows cast opposite that glorious, rising sun.

Archers.

Of course.

Had she been more awake, she probably would have figured that out sooner. Or maybe not. Betrayal and sabotage had never been high on her list of pastimes.

Cullen seemed to have picked up on their standing as well—probably before Katrina had. He wasn't debating trying to cut the snake's head off first and just hoping after they were dead that the rest of the body would flail and die, was he?

Realizing that Katrina had no insight to offer, Cullen eyed Briala carefully before finally asking. "Expansionism?"

With an abrupt laugh, Briala threw her head back, most amused by the concept. "No, my dear Avvar. You think of Gaspard. I have no interest in what lies in those wild mountains of yours. I care for what lies here, forgotten and abandoned in the very cities that are supposed to be so grand."

Even as Cullen knit his brow together, lost in her words, Katrina hesitated. "The elves. You want to help your people."

"I do."

Katrina slowly rose to her feet. Her knees hurt from pressing against the roof tiles for too long. Cullen followed her lead, rising up to tower over both ladies. Katrina thought she saw one of those glints of light shift in the distance. "We wish to save the Avvar from the empress, and you wish to save the elves from her."

"I wish to initiate change that will allow my people to be more than forgotten, broken, offending husks shoved away in the darker parts of cities, where those up top need not cast their gaze." The vitriol in Briala's voice seemed most uncharacteristic. Her mask was slipping indeed. She took a moment to inspect the two of them before adding, "Both are noble causes, do you not agree?"

"If they are both true, then yes," Katrina whispered.

At that, Briala straightened up a little, her mask falling skillfully back into place to conceal her emotions. She appraised Katrina before a well-coached curiosity towed up the corners of her mouth. "You want to believe, but you cannot. You think I work for the empress still. That I would use my people as an elaborate rouse so that I may trick you and present the woman who betrayed me and my loyalty your heads on a platter. I should think I would have to hate myself a great deal to stoop to such levels."

"You forget, Lady Briala—" The elf laughed at Katrina's use of a title, and she felt a little thrown off. Gathering herself, she tried again. "You forget that I have been living in the damned woods this last half year. That I've had people wearing one banner and working for another fucking kidnap and try to murder me. That I've uncovered a web of manipulation and cruelty larger than anything I honestly thought any one person could be capable of that has spanned decades. I have found that the darker aspects of our 'civilized' culture go so much further down than anything I could have dreamed of. My own father was willing to cast out both Amelia and myself for the sake of social standing. So to answer your question, yes. If you are in league with that monster, I don't doubt you would use a plight on par or worse than what the Avvar face to get us to believe you."

"You think the Avvar's plight is on par with that of the elves?"

"I think they have lost homes and holy places and lives to the empress' machinations. I think that she started a backlash toward them that she can't control without the grand duke playing his part—which he has not. The Avvar are being forced from their homes. They are being hunted and killed. She pits clans against one another to keep them distracted from what she does within their lands, lands she has no claim to. I am not saying it is on as grand a scale as what has been done to the elves, and I would be lying if I said I knew the full plight of the elves, but there are similarities. Both groups suffer at her hands, do they not?"

"Which is why we should work together," Briala surmised.

Even as Katrina opened her mouth to argue that as nice as it would be to believe, it wasn't something that could exactly be taken on word, as that was just as like to end with them having their heads on pikes or a platter, as Briala had said, Cullen lightly moved his hand up from the small of her back and leaned down to her, whispering in her ear a single word.

"Cole."

At that, Briala's brow pinched together, her larger ears easily having picked up what he'd said. "What?"

"If you truly wish to work with us," Katrina said, standing up a little straighter, "then there's someone you must meet."

…-…

"The two of you are daft!" Amelia cried out, pacing back and forth through the room. "Completely, ridiculously daft!" She'd abandoned the Antivan accent, much as Katrina had.

Cullen sat on their bed, watching the angry sister move, feeling too tired from having tried to keep up with the earlier slew of words to bother to keep up now.

He knew the gist of it. They'd parted ways with the spymaster or whatever the elf was—he wondered if she would she still be considered a spymaster if she no longer worked for the empress—to find Cole. When they were ready to meet, they were to go to the elven lass who cleaned the inn—the one with the black braids that ran down her back like twin waterfalls—and tell her. The message would be relayed.

It surprised him that someone so close to them had been working for Briala, spying on them, and none of them had so much as noticed.

Apparently their every move had been under scrutiny since the second they'd arrived, and at no fault of the nobles they'd rounded up for help. Cullen had noticed the servants watching them from time to time, but had never seen the same face staring in their direction more than once—not that he could have easily told with all the masks. If anyone else had employed the mask swapping as they had, it was no wonder that he'd missed them.

It should have crossed his mind that they were being tracked.

He had looked. He'd tried to memorize every face they saw, but there were too damned many people here. He'd tried to keep an eye out for people who seemed particularly interested in them, but with all the bustle and movement, it had happened right under his very gaze without him any the wiser.

That seemed to upset Rosalie more than it did him, considering she was the better tracker. She was quietly sulking in her own corner, with Zevran seated beside her, a comforting hand a bit high on her thigh.

Cullen grunted at the notion, choosing to mind his own business—after all, if Rosalie didn't want that hand there, it wouldn't be—and turned away. Katrina was arguing with her sister that they weren't daft at all, but instead quite brilliant.

If Cole said that Briala was telling the truth, then that would mean that the elf could be entrusted with the journals. Being so entrenched in politics, and with the way the elves could move through the city, they would be far more efficient than Cullen and his blundering group of well-meaning misfits.

And it would be pushing Orlesian politics back into Orlais, which was what he wanted anyway, wasn't it?

The only problem with their plan was that Cole came and went as he pleased, and half their party didn't know that he existed. Katrina had asked Morrigan if she could perhaps cast a spell to draw Cole back to them, and Amelia had—again—been adamantly against it. While she couldn't remember Cole, she could remember that magic was being suggested.

According to her, if they cast magic in the city, templars would catch wind and kill the whole lot of them for harboring an apostate.

Cullen had to say he was surprised at how incredibly terrified the Lowlands seemed to be of magic. He could hardly imagine his clan dealing with dire problems without being able to turn to their augur to contact the Gods for help. It was such a bizarre and lonely culture.

If he'd grown up in a world like this, what had happened at the Veilfire Caverns would have likely broken him, scarring him forever toward magic—especially considering he wouldn't have had Gods to help numb the memories so that he could move on.

He was fortunate, he supposed.

That meant that, without Morrigan casting—she might just to spite the Lowlands, in all honesty—they were going to have to wait for Cole to return to them. Cullen had already offered a few prayers, but he wasn't sure that the God could hear him over the noise of the city.

Cole had murmured once, in his own, odd way, when they'd first gotten to Val Royeaux, that there were too many hurts. It made him deaf.

So instead, they sat there, listening to Amelia berate them as they waited for Cole to return from wherever he was, to offer insight into nobles whose hearts weren't yet turned to stone.

Cullen noticed him first.

While Amelia was mid rant about idiocy, Cole was suddenly sitting beside Cullen, swinging his feet back and forth so that the soles of his shoes barely scraped the floor.

"Not now, not ever. Always too careless. Careful steps into dragon's breath and not a hair singed. That can't always happen, though, can it? Luck runs out and so does the life with it. Have to keep her safe. But how, when she thinks she must do the same for me?" Cole quieted a moment before sighing, his shoulders slumping down. "She worries. Katrina always falls, and someday there might not be anyone to catch her. If the little sister keeps running the way she does, that day will be sooner than later. She might see it happen. I tried to make her see that you will keep her safe, but there are too many monsters in the shadows. She fears you cannot fight them all."

"Perhaps they are not all the monsters we think?" Cullen asked, turning to face Cole.

The boy tilted his head, his shaggy hair obscuring the top half of his face, save for one piercing eye. "Hope. Hope with pointed ears and twisting words. Maybe not all Lowlands words are as malicious as the stories say. Can both sides win? Only if there's a third…" With a simple nod, Cole's feet stilled. "I will speak with her. You lead, and I will follow."

With a blink, Cullen was sitting alone on the bed again.

Even as Amelia began to go down a rather long list of instances of when Katrina had made poor life choices while in Starkhaven, Cullen rose to his feet and walked over to them. He held out one hand between the sisters, his other resting on Katrina's shoulder. "We need to let them know that we'll meet them."

"Now?" Amelia hissed. "Why now?"

"We have our reasons," Katrina replied, only to sigh immediately afterward when Amelia snapped that being ambiguous did nothing to help them.

After another moment of arguing futilely against them, Amelia finally caved when Morrigan and Rosalie sided with Cullen. Shoulders slumping, she hesitated before finally a bit of her hardheadedness returned to puff her up. "How's this, then? We meet them at the docks at midnight."

"That sounds a bit ominous, Ams," Katrina muttered. "And melodramatic. Why can't we just—"

"Trust me?" Amelia snapped. "We meet them at the docks at midnight, or I will make your life utterly miserable."

"Well, considering we might die soon, anyway—"

"We will do as you ask," Cullen interrupted Katrina before she could really set Amelia off. He could only imagine what growing up with the two of them under the same roof would have been like. "You think the docks will be safer than other places?"

"I think choosing our own location will give us an advantage."

"They know the whole fucking city, Ams," Katrina scoffed, before Cullen could stop her. "Do you really think we'll have an advantage anywhere in this damned city?"

Katrina did have a point.

Throwing her hands in the air, Amelia looked as though she were considering just strangling her sister herself to spare their enemies the effort. Finally, however, she simply shook her head. "Trust. Me."

"We do," Cullen said, his tone firm.

The rest of their party had been watching the proceedings with varying degrees of interest and understanding. Zevran hadn't been able to translate what was happening for Rosalie and so she'd left him for the time being to sit uninvited or wanted on Morrigan's mattress, prodding the Wolf to fill her in on the goings on.

Until this point, Morrigan's voice had been a steady thrum in the background as she monotonously relayed the sisters' words. Zevran sat alone, tossing a dagger idly into the air and then catching it before it could fall and impale his leg. One of his ears twitched as he felt Cullen's gaze on him, and he returned with a friendly stare, head cocking.

"Is something the matter, dear thane?"

"I'm not…" Cullen sighed.

"Do you think the docks are a wise choice?" Katrina asked him before Cullen could decide if the correction was worth it or not.

"I think that it is quite fine. None of us know the city well, so choosing a location will, in the very least, make them at least a little paranoid as to why we would do something of the like. What have we up our sleeves?" He smirked, only for his face to fall. "Though that may backfire. They may bring more forces against us than are truly necessary. Overkill, if you will."

"Perhaps only a few of us should go," Katrina offered. "And with just a few of the books. Or should we bring them at all? Should we hide them instead? Hide them and split up in case something goes awry?"

Taking in a slow breath so that it puffed her cheeks before letting it out, Amelia shook her head. "If you met the empress' former—or current—spymaster, then she already knows exactly how many of us there are."

"If we separate, we will be easier to pick off," Cullen agreed, shifting a little. The idea of leaving themselves so vulnerable…if their entire party was wiped out, everything would just keep going as it had been…

"And any attempt to hide the books would likely be noted by those watching us," Zevran added.

Perhaps Katrina was right to put more faith in the Gods than he'd been doing. This certainly seemed like something they would need.

Despite a few other snappy comments between the twins, they settled on their plan, and Zevran volunteered to go find the maid. He was back within half an hour, laughing as he said how cross she was that he insisted they go to his meeting spot instead of the one she had been told to relay to them.

Cullen wasn't sure if he was relieved or unnerved by that. Were they throwing a wrench in Briala's plans or countering an ambush? Was there actually an ambush to counter? Could they trust her?

It gave him a headache to even think about.

The rest of the day was miserable. It dragged on and on, though midafternoon, Amelia insisted she head out to take care of things—the usual.

Cullen didn't even consider the 'usual' wouldn't be necessary if Briala proved to be an ally, until after he heard the door clicking shut behind her.

Shortly after, Zevran excused himself to lead Rosalie to some place he'd found in the city—near and quite safe, he assured Cullen without prompting. As Zevran laced fingers with Rosalie and led her from the room, Morrigan raised her gaze from the book she'd been reading—it was new, to Cullen's surprise, and he wondered just where or when she'd had the time to get it—and frowned. "I can see the hope in your eyes, so let me squelch it now. I'll not be ousted so you might have a go at one another."

"What are you reading?" Katrina asked, rather than argue. It was nice to hear the Avvar tongue being used again, and Cullen felt like a strain on his ears had been lifted.

"Annoying me will get you nowhere."

"I'm annoying you by asking what you're reading?"

Even as Cullen slid back on his bed and tried to hide his smile, Morrigan lowered her book and eyed the two of them. "I am reading about templars and mages. Amelia has warned me of the dangers that such fighters can present, and I wish to be educated, should I encounter them."

At that, Katrina wandered a bit closer and frowned. "You know the templars aren't going to leave their secrets lying about for just anyone find and write about. If word got out to all the mages, then their techniques wouldn't be much good, I don't think." She leaned forward and frowned. "The author's name sound's Tevinter, too. Their templars are different from the ones down here."

"There is a difference?"

"Ours are better at fighting malificar—bad mages, I think," Katrina offered. "To be honest, I don't really know what they do, aside from guard against magic."

"As though 'tis something that needs to be guarded against," Morrigan scoffed. "Though it would explain why the templars seem to defer to mages in this text. They seem more like glorified bodyguards." She paused a tick before adding, "Quite enamored bodyguards."

Katrina abruptly seemed to understand something and carefully took the book from Morrigan, as though expecting Morrigan to try to set her alight for the indignity of stealing her precious words, and flipped it over to read the small print on the back. "…Morrigan, a word of advice on Lowlands' culture?" When Morrigan eyed her, Katrina handed back the book, "Anything with the word magister referring to mages is most definitely Tevinter, and any—and I mean any—book that has the word 'tawdry' used to describe it's plot on the back is not to be treated as nonfiction." She hesitated before adding, "Unless it's like, 'You won't believe this tawdry tale is true, yet it is…' or something like that."

With a scowl, Morrigan held up the book. "If this is not to be read as truth, then what is it's purpose?"

"That…" Katrina clasped her hands together and then pointed with her index fingers, "would be the sort of thing my mother and her friends would read in some quiet parlor to get themselves flustered."

"What?"

"It's a sex book, Morrigan," Katrina snapped, growing impatient. "A story with a dubious plot that may or may not be decently written because the point of it is to tell tales of naughty bits, and people allowing themselves to throw caution to the wind and have illicit love affairs, and sordid trysts."

"There is no truth to this book?"

Though Katrina at first seemed ready to confirm the mage's fears, she hesitated. "If the writer did their research, then perhaps it could be accurate. But if it's anything like the other types of this sort of fiction, then no. It's probably riddled with inaccuracies."

Wandering over to them, Cullen slipped his arms around Katrina's waist, tugging her back into him. It felt like the first time since they'd gotten to the Lowlands that he could really relax. Odd that this would happen. Perhaps it was just the calm before everything fell to pieces.

Trying to push that thought aside and cling to the simplicity of the moment, Cullen nuzzled Katrina's hair. "You have a lot of experience with this sort of book?"

He grinned when he saw her ears turn a bit red.

"My mother has an entire stash and when I was younger I…borrowed a few to see the appeal."

His lips brushed against her ear as he dipped his head. "Did you?"

"Let's just say I prefer my trysts to be of flesh rather than ink," Katrina said, turning toward him. He couldn't help but grin at that.

"We're likely to die in a few hours."

He and Katrina looked back at Morrigan. The flush from Katrina's cheeks was gone, as was the smile that had been towing up the corners of her mouth. "Why the fuck would you say something like that?"

"Because I don't have a tent to enchant to keep the noise out."

Katrina scowled, crossing her arms pointedly as she leaned further into Cullen. "I'm not that loud."

"Regardless of what you may or may not be, please consider that you are not alone. After tonight, should things go well, we may part ways and the two of you are welcome to lose one another in each other's embrace for as long as…it won't matter to me. I won't be here."

"Fair enough," Katrina murmured. She hesitated a moment, twisting her mouth to the side. "But that does beg the question as to what we do for the next few hours. We won't need to leave until after sundown."

Morrigan had produced another new text in the time it took Katrina to speak. The back must not have mentioned magisters or tawdriness, for she was content to flip it over and start reading, not bothering to dismiss the couple beside her.

"That game."

With a blink, Katrina turned a little in his grasp to look up at him. "Game?"

"You and Zevran played it once or twice before." Cullen murmured, motioning toward the other room in their chambers. It had been a curious thing to watch, the way the two of them had moved the little pieces across the board whilst they spoke about nobles and who they might make pacts with.

Cullen had been too busy brooding to participate in the conversation, though that game had attracted his attention.

As Katrina sat down at the board, she looked up at him and grinned. "This is chess. I've a feeling you'll be quite good at it."

...-...

A/N: As I think I said last time, I will be out of town from this Saturday to next Saturday, so no update next week. Regular posting should resume the week after, and the next chapter should be the last one, though I might break it up, depending on how long it gets.

It's been so much fun to write this story, and I can't believe it's almost over! Thank you all for reading, and see you next update!