Ash ran back toward the lattice with Blackwall and Solas close on her heels. She tucked papers into her satchel, papers that implicated Gaspard, Celene, and Briala in a variety of subterfuge situations. All it had taken was an hour of battles with unexpected foes in a very fancy library. It was a much preferable time to chit chatting with masked strangers. In truth, she was in awe of the palace. Skyhold was intimidating in its own right, but this place was massive, and filled with history. A year ago she would never have believed she would find herself in such a place, much less as anyone of import.

She could hear the bell tolling. If she were late, the people would talk. It seemed a silly thing to care about.

Solas was chuckling beside her as he strapped his wand back onto his back. She cast him a sidelong glance and swung her leg over the banister.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Are you not?"

She snorted, shook her head, and shimmied down the lattice. Ash leapt to the ground, straightened her tunic, and took a steadying breath.

"Well, back into the lion's den I go."

"That's assuming we ever left," Solas quipped. He tilted his head to one side and looked her up and down. "Hold." She stood still as he reached out and tugged the sash of her tunic slightly sideways to cover a very apparent blood splatter, then nodded approvingly.

Ash was getting the hang of this world. But she was ready to be done. All the while these Orlesians were dancing around each other, their real enemy was emboldening his army.

The last hour was not a waste, at least. Aside from hard evidence, Ash had the aid of an elven servant she'd saved from certain death, a witness against Briala's professed loyalty to her elven followers. But despite that they were better equipped to negotiate with the Empress and her rivals, they were no closer to knowing the identity of the assassin.

A hand pulled at her arm. Ash's blood spiked and she whirled quickly, quietly, to grab the wrist in an iron grip. Her wide golden eyes glared up into the bemused expression of her brother.

"Well, hello, darling sister," he gently extracted his wrist from her grip and reached into his robes. "I have a gift for you."

"Why would you sneak up on me like that?" she didn't bother to hide her mild annoyance.

"Old habits die hard. Here," he handed her the Empress's locket.

"What's this?"

"One of likely many skeletons in Celene's closet. Proof she had an affair with Briala, and, I suspect, still harbors feelings for her," Theo explained. Ash blew a low whistle.

"I have about everything I need, except knowledge of who the actual assassin is," she said ruefully.

"Well, I've done my part," he stretched casually and cast a disinterested look around the massive ballroom. "I'll be here if you need a hand, but if you'll excuse me…"

"I believe I saw Cassandra at the north end of the room," Ash smiled mischievously. Her brother stared blankly down at her.

"Thank you for that unsolicited information," he said dryly. She inclined her head and smirked as Theo started strolling south.

It was then the Grand Duchess Florianne caught Ash's eye. She'd heard some about her from Leliana, like every noble of import. The blonde masked woman smiled darkly and motioned to the dance floor. Ash frowned and took a deep, indulgent breath. Being on the dance floor would make her even more of a spectacle, but as the night wasn't over, she couldn't reason her way out of it.

She led the Duchess out onto the main stage, ignoring the hiss of whispers that followed like a wake after a ship.

"I've heard you are responsible for the negotiations tonight," Ash observed as she stepped into synch with the music. The slender woman's thick lips twitched knowingly.

"Indeed I did, at great effort. Of course, one might use the occasion for the blackest treason, should they wish it," she said coolly. "Take yourself… traipsing around the palace as you have been."

The hairs on the back of Ash's neck rose. She didn't say anything. After a moment, the Duchess pressed on with mild annoyance at her lack of easy give and take.

"You have made yourself both a curiosity and a concern."
"And what am I to you, your grace?" Ash finally spoke. The masked blonde pursed her lips.

"A little of both, I should say," she purred.

Ash stifled an urge to frown. What was this woman playing at? Did she intend to unite the Orlesian powers and finally bring peace, as an ally might? As far as Ash had learned, none here was altruistic. She must have something to gain.

The Duchess talked of Gaspard, and how he wanted to strike against the Empress. She spoke of Gaspard's Captain of guards, and how he was the weak link to Gaspard's machinations. Her forthcoming nature was suspicious. She knew exactly where to send Ash to solve something the Empress's own guards should be able to accomplish. It was too easy.

So be it, Ash thought. She'd chase down the lead. If it were a dud, she'd know the Duchess was not to be trusted.

They chatted a few minutes more, the Duchess stubbornly elusive and Ash grudgingly vague. The dance ended, the Inquisitor bowed, and headed back to the wings to her waiting advisors.

She spoke in hushed tones with Cullen, Leliana and Josephine, of this new lead who could point to the assassin. The peace talks were crumbling and time was short, so Ash made haste to gather her team. Solas was smirking with some kind of satisfaction when she found him leaning against a marbled wall.

"You seem pleased," she observed as she touched his elbow and inclined her head toward the garden where Blackwall waited.

"I am," he said quietly as he fell into step with her. "The blend of danger, sex, and intrigue is a heady atmosphere I rarely find elsewhere. I've missed it." His light eyes shifted from the crowd to her. They sparkled with an unexpected intensity as they swept over her. "You are more at ease here than I would have expected."

"I'm adapting," she shrugged. He chuckled quietly.

"Of course, you are," he tilted his head to the side appraisingly. "Your ability to adapt is perhaps becoming your most defining quality. On the heels of your abrasive abandon in battle, that is."

Blackwall came into view, looking conspicuous and uncomfortable next to Cole at the edge of the garden. His face brightened when he noticed Ash.

"The Duchess has given us a lead," Ash explained as the three regrouped. "If it comes through, it should implicate Gaspard as the main suspect in all this nonsense. Not sure I trust her, but that's the theme of the night, isn't it?"

"Then let's be done with it," Blackwall said gruffly.

The Inquisitor led them once more into the darkness of the palace. It was much quieter now that they'd cut through most of the intruders. Ash cast an occasional glance at Cole for some sign the spirit had picked up on any sign of sabotage, but he remained as quiet and intrigued by the world around him as he had been all evening.

Lights glinted from the courtyard ahead.

"Be ready," Solas grasped his wand before him.

The four of them emerged under the lights of the early night sky and into the lush flora of the rectangular courtyard.

Into the sights of a dozen archers. Ash pulled her axe free. The bowstrings sang as they were pulled taut. A soldier was tied up at the far end of the courtyard, a man Ash could only assume was Gaspard's captain.

"What a pleasure!" a familiar voice rang out from above. "I wasn't certain you'd attend, Inquisitor." The graceful figure of the Duchess Florianne strolled from behind a massive Chantry sculpture on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. "You're such a challenge to read, I couldn't say for certain if you'd taken the bait."

"If you're looking for another dance partner, I'm a bit busy at the moment," Ash quipped. She sensed her teammates slowly position themselves behind her.

"A pity, truly. But I do appreciate you falling into my trap so easily," she motioned to the men below with a graceful turn of her wrist. "Corypheus has insisted the Empress die tonight, and I would hate to disappoint him." Heat rose into the Inquisitor's face. What was with this fanatical devotion these people had to Corypheus?

"Oh, don't worry yourself about that," Ash steadied her axe across her shoulder. "Disappointment should be like an old friend to him by now."

"Poor dear," she continued in her silky, assured voice. "You'll never know what is truly in store. All I need is to occupy you long enough to strike at Celene. They'll be talking of it for years."

"There won't be any 'they' left if that bastard wins," Blackwall growled.

"Shall we cure her of her delusions?" Solas spoke at her left. The Duchess ignored them.

"Kill her, and bring her marked hand as proof," Florianne commanded to the men below as she strolled back out of view.

The arrows loosed. Ash was ready for them. She dove to the side and pivoted back toward her foes. Shafts whistled past as bright purple light burst around her from Solas' barrier.

Her mark burned with energy. An idea came to her. She held it aloft as commotion exploded around her. Green fire sparked from her palm and into the sky, slicing a rift across the inky dark, and demons started spilling forth. Maybe not the smartest plan, but she'd wager the hired hands would be more startled by inhuman creatures pouring from a sky gash than she would.

"You sprang a trap in their own!" Cole exclaimed.

The wraiths took the archers by surprise with icy blasts. Blackwall and Ash did most of the rest of the work, then put an end to the demons she'd summoned.

"That was hardly a challenge," Blackwall snorted. "The Orlesians should stick to gossiping."

"Perhaps not the wisest idea to summon a rift," Solas observed as they surveyed the carnage, "but an effective distraction."

"Work with what you've got," Ash wiped the gore from her axe. She approached the bound soldier, smirked as he flinched when she knelt to him, then cut his bindings.

"Bloody hell," he rubbed his bruised wrists as he stood, "where those actually demons?"

"Good eye, yes. Those were definitely demons," she holstered her weapon.

"Maker, bless me! How could there be fucking demons in the Winter Palace?" he gasped. "I knew Gaspard was a bastard, but I didn't think he'd pit me against that." Ash's ears perked.

"So, you are working for Gaspard."

"Not anymore, I'm not. The Duke wanted to move on the palace tonight, but he didn't have enough fancy chevaliers," the shaken man explained, "so he offered me and my men triple our price to come to this fancy poncy nonsense. Not enough for this."

That was all Ash needed. Florianne was the would-be assassin, and this witness solidified all her dirt on the others present. After offering the down and out soldier a new position with her Inquisition, she rallied her group back to the ballroom, before the Duchess found more to gloat about.

It wasn't a task to stop Florianne. Without her traps, she was just another over-dressed schemer. The true fun came when Briala, Gaspard, and Celene realized the sway the Inquisitor's efforts had given her over them. Enough sway to force them to work together, and stop this feuding that was distracting from the real enemy.

The night was drawing to a fast and efficient close, finally. And all the while the nobles present just tittered as if it were merely another amusing show, like any other, with no more consequences than one might expect from a neighbor's feud.

Ash was quick to excuse herself for air once the political machinations were done. The Empress was safe, her rivals bound to her through mutual blackmail, and the Inquisition could breath again.

She made her way to a balcony overlooking the massive palace garden and leaned against it with a long sigh.

"The Orlesian nobility make drunken toasts to your victory, and yet you are not present to hear them?" the sultry, calculating voice of Celene's arcane advisor drifted from behind Ash. She turned to greet the dark-haired apostate. "Tis most fickle, after all your efforts on their behalf."

"I would have stayed, but the punch ran dry," Ash propped an elbow up on the railing behind her and shrugged. "Scandalous."

Morrigan laughed coolly, noncommittally.

"Then let us see if you take this news as poorly. By imperial decree, I have been named liaison to the Inquisition," she gave a very slight curtsy. The hairs on Ash's neck rose. So, she was to be seeing more of this clever, elusive woman.

They spoke a few moments more of what Morrigan planned to offer the Inquisition. Ash sensed she knew things the Inquisition's magical resources didn't yet comprehend, and it would be no small benefit against a creature like Corypheus. But something didn't sit right with her about this mage.

Ash watched Morrigan return to the festivities, just as a familiar form silhouetted in the entrance to the balcony.

"There are at least a dozen young lords and ladies hoping for some time with the hero of the night," Blackwall said as he approached, "yet here you are, alone."

"You'd think they would just come on out here," Ash quipped as she looked up at him. "And you? Have you been beating off the courtiers like Cullen?"

Blackwall snorted in half amusement, half annoyance.

"They've cut me a wide enough berth. Must be the beard."

"Or they've noticed someone already has claim to you," Ash straightened. She reached out a hand and smoothed the front of his tunic.

"Perhaps. We have been bolder. First around our companions…"

"You know I've no interest in hiding," her fingers trailed down his arm and coiled with his. "I'm not some human noble bound by convention."
"Thank the Maker," he looked down at her smaller hand in his. His dark brows knitted together. "But you must… have some concerns about what your clan might think."

"Let's just close this rift first, shall we?" she stepped close to him and craned her neck up at him. "Or better yet, enjoy what remains of this night."

A smile creased his eyes. He raised his other hand and gently caressed her cheek with his knuckles.

"As you wish. I do owe you a dance, after all," he said softly. She shivered in spite of herself as his thumb twirled down to the hollow of her neck. He stepped back, pulling her lightly after him toward the center of the balcony. "Shall we, my Lady Lavellan?"

"I didn't know you danced," her stomach tilted as one hand moved around her waist and pulled her close. Thank the Maker Josephine had given her a few lessons before all this. This was her third dance in as many hours, and certainly the one that mattered most.
"I did once. In another life."

Conversation and the tinkling of glassware drifted gently out to them as they swayed. The distant sound of night creatures echoed from the garden and land beyond. It was a surreal yet appropriate mix of two worlds. Blackwall pressed his face into the waves of Ash's hair. He took a deep inhale, then shivered when he felt her nestle closer in response. She was uncharacteristically soft and yielding in his arms, under the moonlight in this snapshot of their lives he knew was precious and ephemeral. If not for the way her arm held firmly to him, he might've thought she was falling asleep in his embrace.

He wanted to stay with her longer. Till the morning. Till the day he summoned the courage to ask her. Till the day he could be a different man, one who could have a future with the woman in his arms.

"Ash…"

She stirred. He felt her face lift toward his.

"This has been a long night. In a place I can hardly say I enjoy, and would never care to see again. But damned if I won't remember it as one of the finer moments of my life."

"The Orlesian cuisine winning you over?" she whispered against his neck. He didn't laugh at her quip this time.

"Any place I can hold you like this," his voice was gravely with emotion. "There's nothing I want more."

Her fingers moved up his neck and through his thick hair. She pushed him back far enough to gaze up into his eyes. Her jaw clenched firm, her brow lined with resolve. The corners of her golden eyes glimmered in the starlight. He felt laid low by the raw affection reflecting back at him.

They closed the distance between them for the second time that night, oblivious to any prying eyes. He was right, she thought as she basked in his intoxicating warmth. Despite all they had been through, all they had yet to go, this moment burned the slate clean. This fearless, honorable man had a way of resetting her, making her stronger. Ash let his strong arms enfold her and keep the future worries at bay. For a merciful few moments, the specter of his past melted beneath the force of the present, and it was only the two of them beneath the forgetful expanse of the night sky.