Morning came, as it was wont to do. Amell dressed and groomed herself, preparing for the day. Bright sunlight was streaming in through the windows, putting the mage in an unusually good mood.

She'd almost forgotten about her predicament the evening before, at least until she finally exited the room and ran into Sten in the hallway.

The Qunari seemed to have been on his way to her room, because the stairs were in the opposite direction, and there was a brief moment in which they froze in place, looking quite surprised to see each other. Then, tactfully, Sten cleared his throat.

"I was about to inform you that we may resupply today and be on our way tomorrow," he said.

Amell nearly sighed in relief. At least her companion seemed impervious to awkwardness.

"Thank you," she nodded, her eyes finding their way to the nice, safe floorboards.

"We will be joining a caravan," he added.

"A caravan?" Amell echoed.

"It would be unwise to travel by ourselves, even on major roads."

"Of course," she agreed.

"Would you like me to step aside now?"

"...What?" She raised her head, uncertain. Sten looked as grave as always.

"So that you may flee. I have noticed it has become a habit lately," he clarified.

Amell couldn't help cracking a smile at that, but she hid it behind a hand, blushing.

"Oh, I'm-- I'm sorry about that, Sten. I... I didn't mean... Yesterday was..." Odd, she wanted to say.

"We will put yesterday behind us and not dwell on it any longer," Sten spoke with great finality.

Amell nodded numbly. She felt a surge of relief, tinged with just a little disappointment, which she hastily crushed.

"Now, will you be joining me for breakfast?" Sten asked, once that was out of the way.

"Oh..." She considered for a moment. "No, I have some other things to do. You go ahead," she motioned, as she herself turned to lock the door.

Sten nodded and turned towards the stairs. He was almost at the first step when another came climbing them; Valerion, with his lute strapped to his back and a cheeky grin on his face.

"Ah, good morning!" the minstrel greeted cheerily. "Is your fair companion about?"

Sten looked down on him with a frown. Coming from him, this was enough to make the minstrel take a step back and raise his hands appeasingly.

"Now, now, my good man, I promise this will be the last time I will bother the lady."

Silently, still looking at the minstrel with undisguised disapproval, Sten moved aside, allowing Valerion to pass. The young man's relief was almost palpable, but Sten still watched him as he approached Amell.

"Ah, m'lady, so glad to have caught you," Valerion bowed quickly, looking quite calm for someone being watched so attentively by a giant.

"Valerion?" Amell blinked. "Is something wrong?"

"No, not at all," the minstrel laughed.

In one swift gesture, he produced two silver coins. Amell stared at the silver, but made no move to take it, so Valerion gently took her hand, spread open her palm and placed the coins in it. There was a distant, thunderous sound as Sten growled at this physical contact, but Valerion quite aptly ignored it.

"I have merely come to pay my debt to you," he explained with a wink. "Thank you."

"Oh!" Amell realized suddenly. "For the tailor! Right. You're welcome."

"And one more thing..."

Bringing his lips to her ear, he whispered a few words. This sent a blush spreading across Amell's face.

"Wh-what?!" she squeaked in surprise after a few seconds, flinching back.

Valerion laughed and bowed again, then quite brazenly made his way past Sten and disappeared down the stairs.

"What did he say to you?" Sten growled, turning to Amell.

The mage seemed to blush harder.

"N-nothing, never mind," she said, her voice a higher pitch than normal. "It was nothing."

Sten frowned. His dislike for Valerion deepened.

* * *

The Cumberland market district was not terribly different from that of Denerim. It was loud and crowded and just a little less organized, but the only major difference seemed to be the fine white dust that perpetually hung in the air.

Amell was, nonetheless, delighted with her surroundings. As Sten haggled for goods, his companion flitted from stall to stall, curious about everything. She occasionally escaped his sight, when he was busy going through a vendor's wares or haggling, but she always reappeared by his side.

The last time, she was eating a sort of red fruit which he hadn't seen her purchase.

"I like this place," she remarked airily, staring into the distance.

"It is a marketplace, no different than Denerim's," Sten responded.

"But it is different."

"If you insist."

She threw him a glance at this reluctant acceptance of her words, but did not pursue the matter. Instead, she changed the subject unexpectedly.

"Sten, you don't trust Valerion, do you?" she asked quite suddenly.

"I do not," he replied, completely honest.

"Why not?" She tilted her head curiously.

"Why this sudden interest in my motivations? I dislike him. I should not be forced to explain my every action." The words came out harsher than Sten intended, but Amell did not seem cowed.

"Hm," she only said, taking another bite out of her fruit while watching him with great interest.

Sten looked away. He concluded that the minstrel had been a bad influence on Amell.

"The question should be why you trust him," he groused after a while.

"I'm a very trusting person," she replied lightly.

"And I am a mistrustful person. You know this, yet you still ask."

"He's harmless, you know."

"Perhaps he is not a warrior, but he is far from harmless," Sten corrected.

"Why do you say that?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"It... matters little now."

"It matters to me."

"Why?"

"Why wouldn't it? You're my friend. I care about your opinion."

Sten's expression softened slightly.

"I suppose that is an acceptable reason," he mused.

"Then you'll tell me?"

"No."

Amell laughed.

"I knew you'd say that," she told him with a lopsided grin.