The Inquisitor's Ghost
Author's Note: This chapter has a soundtrack: Hold Me Down by Halsey.
Chapter 24 – The Winter Palace: Part 2
Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked
Make me to rest in the warmest places
- Transfigurations 12
"You have no idea how good it is to see you," the Inquisitor sighed as she approached Cole, needing his company after the hell she'd just gone through in the ballroom.
Cole turned to face her and abruptly stopped dead, his back snapping straight, his eyes falling away from hers. Her stomach muscles tightened at his slow, heated perusal, as if he was cataloging each feature of her face and curve of her body. No other person had ever looked at her the way Cole looked at her - with a slow, dragging absorption.
When his eyes eventually crawled their way back up to hers, he stared at her slack-jawed with a slightly dazed look on his face.
Ember wrinkled her nose. "What's… what's wrong?" she asked self-consciously as she tucked a blood-red curl behind her ear. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"So bright. You shine." His voice was breathy, his eyes still running over her, dark like the ocean during a thunderstorm, deep and tempestuous. "Your light makes my chest ache."
A warm blush spread up her cheeks, and she grinned with unabashed delight, never having received such a sincere complement. Ember didn't have any real pretensions toward beauty, but she couldn't doubt the admiration in Cole's eyes.
Feeling confident for the first time that night, she walked toward him with a sway to her hips. She couldn't help the smirk that formed on her lips when Cole tracked her like prey, pivoting around to keep her in view.
She stopped a few feet in front of him. "So, how was your night? What do you think of the nobles?"
His eyes widened in dismay. "Masks. Everywhere. Their faces talk even when they aren't moving. Silk on satin on skin, always wanting, chaste but chased. Too many." He shook his head, as if unable to understand. "They have faces inside their faces. A face to the world and a face within. Lying with a layer that tells the truth. I don't know how to help them."
"You tried to help." She shrugged. "That's what matters."
"A woman tripped on purpose. The man who caught her left the room. They didn't want my help." He shifted on his feet. "A fallen fan can cut like a kiss, breath from the wrong boy on the nape of the neck. I helped until they made me stop. Now they've all forgotten."
"At least the other members of the Inquisition seem to be doing well."
"Not all," Cole replied. "Cullen is afraid. So afraid. They're hunting him, following fear. He shouldn't be here."
Ember threw her fiery head back and laughed. It wasn't a soft, feminine laugh like the noble women in the ballroom. It was a real laugh – loud and unguarded, deep in the gut – and the sound of it made Cole's eyes glitter with warmth.
"Cullen shouldn't be here, but Leliana should," Cole continued. "She slips into the act with her many faces. When she puts on a new one, she changes all the way down."
Ember's laughter trickled to nothing and she wiped at her eyes. "I know. Leliana's in her element tonight. But I think she… what's that?" she asked, pointing at a mysterious object in Cole's hand, which he was hiding behind his back.
"Oh… this," he said nervously, looking down uneasily and pulling the object out. "The old woman said I should give it to you," he uttered timidly, blushing a light pink before thrusting the handful of flowers at her.
The little blue flowers were crushed and trampled at an odd angle in his sweaty hand from being stuffed in his armor, their flattened and torn petals falling to the floor at his shifting feet.
Speechless, she tenderly took the stems in her hand, more petals falling to the ground, until only one flower remained with five little blue petals and a yellow center. With a soft smile, she traced her finger upon the velvety petals with adoration.
"Your face changed," he observed nervously. "Are you mad at me or hungry?"
"I'm happy," she answered quietly, honestly, before looking up at him. "Thank you, Cole. This was very thoughtful of you. I've… I've never been given flowers before."
His eyes became bright and a radiant smile of satisfaction grew on his lips until it was wide and boyish with unfettered glee. His smile deepened the grooves either side of his mouth, making him look even more adorable.
Ember plucked the only remaining flower from the others and tucked it in her hair behind her ear. Quiet admiration and pride painted his features as he eyed the flower in her hair.
The melodic strains of the bards playing their lutes, flutes, and guitars in the ballroom drifted across the palace to them.
His lashes lifted, his eyes tethering hers. "Dance?"
Ember blinked. "What?"
He swallowed anxiously, as if expecting her rejection. "Dance… with me?"
Her eyebrows shot to her hairline in surprise. "You want to dance?"
"No," he answered honestly, shifting his weight uneasily. "Dancing is hard. You have to listen with your feet as well as your heart."
Her lips quirked. "And not poke around in the heads of the other dancers."
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "There's a lot to do all at once."
Her head tilted and she asked, "If you don't like dancing, why are you asking me to dance?"
For an endless moment, impaling blue eyes held hers. "An excuse to hold you."
The soft sound of his voice settled at the base of her spine like a warm pool of slowly spreading honey.
An eternity seemed to pass before the bards began to play a fast song in the ballroom, the notes floating to them in the library.
Without asking her permission, Cole stepped into her and placed one hand on her lower back and took hold of her hand with the other, holding it up. Ember's free hand went to his shoulder as she'd seen the women do in the ballroom as he began moving her awkwardly across the library.
And… oh, Maker… Cole was dancing like he fought – quick step, quick step, lung. Quick step, quick step, lung.
Ember's heart squeezed tightly. Maker's breath! Cole was so unbelievably adorable. His face was all scrunched up in concentration, his eyes staring down at his stumbling feet, his body impossibly taut as he appeared to be fighting her like she was an opponent, except her hand was in his instead of his dagger. Sweet Andraste, she didn't know if she was going to laugh or cry.
"Am I… am I doing it wrong?" he asked nervously, his eyes remaining locked on his faltering feet, his cheeks pink with embarrassment.
She didn't have the heart to say yes.
"No. It's perfect," she replied softly, and it was the truth.
The fast-paced song ended and was immediately followed by the strains of a slow, mellow-sounding ballad about a nightingale's eyes.
Cole came to an abrupt halt at the change in tune, his collarbone bumping into her nose. She watched his throat swallow. Her gaze dragged up his throat to be trapped by his own.
As they began to sway slowly to the soft music, his arms fell to encircle her waist. Ember's hands gripped his upper arms. She rested her cheek against his chest where she could hear the rapid thudding of his heart. Cole rested his chin lightly on the top of her head, and she heard him breathe in the scent of her hair while he played with the ends, his fingers inadvertently brushing the small of her back.
It felt good dancing body-to-body like this, with his sharp angles molded to her while they swayed to the music. Ember's eyes closed languidly. He smelled like rain and cinnamon. She didn't care that the damp of his armor was soaking into the front of her dress. She fit against him so perfectly. Their hearts beating together. His thighs moving against hers. His narrow hips… Oh, Maker!
The song ended and they stopped moving, but she remained caught against him.
She heard a sound in the distance and, fearing it was the assassin, she started to slip from his arms, but they tightened around her.
"Don't move." His voice was a bare rasp of sound. "I just want… I just want to hold you. Just for a little bit longer. Please."
She let him hold her and with each intake of breath, her chest rose to brush against his.
After a long pause, Ember drew back from him and raised her gaze to his.
Even in the semidarkness she could see him well enough. The fireplace spilled a golden light over the library, illuminating his sharply cut features. But it was his gaze that she felt like a physical blow.
He was staring at her with such unblinking intensity that it hurt to hold his gaze. So piercing. So burning. All-consuming. He was looking at her like… like she was… all… everything… center of his universe…
"I love the way you look at me." She didn't even realize she'd spoken out loud until she heard the husky sound of her voice.
His head titled, eyes stroking hers. "How do I look at you?" His voice had deepened and roughened, his warm, hint-of-cinnamon breath caressing her face.
She swallowed. "As if the rest of Thedas could fall away and you wouldn't notice."
Her tongue darted out to moisten her dry lips, her heart thundering in her chest as he brushed the pad of his thumb where her tongue had just been, leaving her with this hot, thrumming feeling.
"You didn't hurt me that night, Cole," she said abruptly against the calloused pad of his thumb. "Not really."
His eyes meshed with hers as his thumb left her lips to take a curl between his fingers, rubbing it between them.
"I know," he whispered. "I see now. Varric helped me understand that there was blood and pain, but it wasn't real."
Her brows furrowed. "So, what's wrong?"
His expression shuttered. "Everything."
She flicked her eyes away and sucked in a breath before letting them return, speaking in a thready voice, "Tell me, Cole, what did you feel that night, when you were inside me?"
His eyes held hers for an infinitesimal moment.
"Real." It was a rough-toned declaration that seemed to vibrate inside of his chest. "Alive."
She felt an invisible hand suddenly reach inside her and clutch at her insides and squeeze.
She waited a beat before asking, "And since that night… have you felt alive?"
He tucked the curl behind her ear, baring her throat to his hand. His fingers fell, spreading along the edge of her jaw, tilting it up so he could stare down into her, his heavily-lidded eyes bluer than she'd ever seen them.
"I've been the wrong shape." It came out strained and gruff. "Empty, nothing, lifeless."
Her breath quickened, thickened as she leaned into him. "Let me, Cole." Her voice was soft, drugging.
His hand immediately fell away from her jaw, withdrawing. She saw the darkening of his eyes before he clenched them shut, his teeth clenched as if he was fighting with himself. He looked weary from what she knew was an endless inner struggle of wanting and not letting himself have.
Ember latched on his weariness like it was a lifeline, knowing she could use it to bash through that wall he'd erected between them.
She leaned in to him until her lips were just a breath away from his. "Let me make you feel alive."
His eyes snapped open and her breath choked off. His eyes… it was like looking into the heart of a fire – blue flecks leaping and dancing like tongues of flames, a predatory burn scorching her to the bone.
Oh, Maker… that look… it made her want him so much, a raw ache in her gut.
"What are you so afraid of?" she whispered.
His hands shot out and cased her face, his mouth slamming down on hers.
It happened so fast. It caught her off guard. She gasped and he inhaled the sound, consuming the air in her lungs. Warm hands held her face as his tongue broke the barrier of her lips, slipping into her mouth, before retreating and then come back again as if for another taste, as if he couldn't get enough.
"What am I afraid of?" he rasped harshly, his mouth still touching hers, his lips caressing her with every word.
"This." His hands ran possessively down the sides of her face. "This."
Her hands clenched his armor in two tight fists, yanking him closer so her mouth could latch onto his again.
With utter surrender, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him, kissing her like it was sustenance for his soul.
Maker yes! This was what she wanted. After days of trying, she'd finally broken through to him - and discovered herself unprepared yet excited for the need and desperation of his kiss.
With his hands casing her face, his mouth never left hers as he walked her a few feet until she bumped into the bookcase behind her, knocking a few books off the shelf to land on the floor with a sound that echoed in the stillness of the silence around them.
Feeling so needy her skin felt too tight for her body, frantic for more of him, she bit into his bottom lip before sucking it into her mouth, wishing she could pull him straight into her.
With a low, tearing groan, he forced her legs apart with his knee, his mouth fastening on hers with a wild hunger that seemed to want to devour her. His fingers pressed into her cheeks as he moved her head where he wanted her, to the best angles so he could get to the parts of her mouth he wanted to reach, to taste.
When her mouth broke free of his to suck in a deep breath, his mouth latched onto the skin of her exposed throat. A moan escaped her as his lips caressed her neck, his knee rubbing her between her thighs, his hand dragged slowly down the middle of her sternum. His hand continued to drag down her body to palm her hip and squeeze.
"I'm sorry." His voice was rough and shaken, apologetic. "No control… can't… can't slow… can't stop…" His voice was nothing but hoarse breathlessness as his teeth scraped lightly down the line of her throat.
His hand moved back up over her ribcage to cover the swell of her breast. Her eyes snapped open, her labored breathing breaking on a cry, the layers of clothing doing nothing to diminish the waves of heat that shot straight through every cell of her body.
"You like this," he uttered into her neck as he softly kneaded her flesh with his long, dexterous fingers. "I remember."
Her back immediately arched like a bow, every thought in her head scattering like startled crows in the rookery. She was so hot, oxygen hard to catch, her hips rolling wildly under her skirts, grinding frantically against his knee.
"If you stop, I'll kill you," she growled, a woman pressed beyond her limits, kissing every inch of his skin she could find.
Needing to touch him in return, her hands began yanking on his cuirass, trying to pull it up his torso. He wrenched the thing off, and as it hit the floor with a thud, she grinned with satisfaction at his urgency.
His bare torso was pale and smooth, muscles rippling beneath satiny, snowy-white skin. She scoured his flat stomach with greedy hands and a sound of male desperation broke free of him, halfway between a moan of satisfaction and a dark plea.
When her hands began to dip beneath the top of his leather pants, he took her wrists in his hands and pressed them against the bookcase above her head. His body surged against her, his hips and thighs pinning her beneath him. With a hard flex of his expression, his forehead fell against hers, staring at her with eyes that were wide and wild, his pupils so dilated they looked almost black. His breath came in sharp spurts against her face, his bare chest rising and falling against hers with every breath he was struggling to find.
His hands left her wrists to slide slowly up to take her hands. Their fingers entwined, folding and caressing, then interlocking against the bookcase over her head. He kept his forehead pressed firmly against hers, eyes never leaving hers, as a roll of his hips ground every hard inch of him against the soft notch between her legs.
A rough, unhinged sound vibrated in the back of his throat and Ember strained against the hands that kept her wrists pinned to the bookcase. Her blood had caught fire. She was panting now, each inhale short and shallow, each exhale a soft whimper as he rolled his hips against hers again.
"Take my body," she pleaded, begged. "Make it yours."
He instantly released her hands to pull frantically at her skirts, but there were so many layers to get through.
"Skin?" he muttered, crouching down in front of her - urgent, clumsy, and impatient to get under her skirts. "Where's your skin?"
Moments later, he released a sigh of relief when his hands touched her bare skin beneath the layers of skirts. He stood then, slowly, his hands dragged up the backs of her calves, her knees, her thighs, her skirts bunching up around her waist. Ember quivered out a constricted gasp as he hooked a finger under the hem of her smalls and pulled, causing the thin fabric to snap against her heated skin and fall to the ground.
"I am parchment." Cole pulled back slightly to look down at her, his expression a dark mask, the skin drawn tight across his cheekbones, emphasizing the harshness of his face. "You are fire."
He squeezed the backs of her thighs, his arms flexing, and her feet lifted easily off the ground. Instinctively, her legs wrapped themselves around his tapered waist, her arms going around his neck as he propped her up against the bookcase, bracing his knees beneath her, every part of her body coming into contact with his. His lips slanted across hers, his tongue parting her lips and delving into her mouth.
"Keep burning me," he groaned into her mouth, low and tormented.
He kissed her, hard. The harder he kissed her, the harder she kissed back, until it was an urgent fever of lips and teeth. Desperately he rubbed himself against her core, his hips thrusting against her, digging the rigid length of him harder between her thighs. Blood pounded through her head as she dug her nails into the skin of his bare back, clawing at him, needing more.
"Need to get into you," he growled as he pressed frantically ardent kisses to her temples, her cheeks, her chin, every inch of skin he could reach as she ripped at his belt as if demons possessed her, needing him to assuage the savage ache between her thighs.
She let his belt drop to the floor with a loud thud. Instantly, she reached for the laces of his leather pants.
Maker's breath how she wanted this, needed it, how she-
His palm suddenly lifted to cup the side of her head and roughly shoved it to the side right as something whizzed past her ear and stuck in the bookshelf beside her head with a resounding thud. A single dagger was embedded in the spine of a book inches from her face.
Before she could blink, Cole shifted her weight to one arm under the backs of her thighs and used his free hand to rip the dagger from the book, and spun around with inhuman speed to throw the dagger into what she assumed was a body judging by the sound of torn flesh and the grunt of pain followed by the fresh scent of blood.
Staring at the bookcase she'd been pressed against, Ember tried to look over her shoulder to see the danger at her back, but stopped when she felt Cole's hand run up the side of her bare leg to unsheathe the hidden dagger strapped to her thigh.
She felt him lunge forward and she squeezed her thighs tight around his waist, her arms locked around his neck, and held on for dear life as Cole fought whoever it was and however many there were with her dagger in his free hand. She clenched every muscle in her body in an effort to hold her own weight so his movements wouldn't be hindered.
Her body jerked and shifted with his fluid movements as he ducked and dodged and struck out with her dagger. She heard the clang of metal and the grunts of effort, and felt the occasional spray of blood on her back.
The tip of a blade nicked the fabric covering her shoulder, tearing it, exposing the skin of her shoulder. She began to squirm to try and get him to release her so she could fight, but his fingers bit into the outside of her thigh, refusing to let her down.
"Let me down so I can fight," she hissed in his ear.
"No," was the darkly uttered reply.
She nearly gasped when she felt her spine press against an enemies back, but then she felt Cole's arm jerk powerfully and sharply in a horizontal slash and heard the gurgle of blood and the crumbling of a body to the ground and knew he'd just slit someone's throat from behind.
When it seemed the fight was over, she relaxed for a second before the hand holding her dagger tangled in her hair, jerked her head back, and his lips slammed down over hers, hard and fierce, shattering her like a brick thrown at a mirror.
His hand tightened in her curls and he dragged her head back farther, his lips at her chin, her jaw, nipping and licking, before tearing ravenously at her mouth again, forcing her lips apart with his tongue as his arm jerked to the side and her dagger landed in the skull of the last assassin a few yards away, without him even looking or slowing in his frantic need to discover every inch of her mouth.
Within a breath she was flattened against the bookshelf and his body again, his mouth never leaving hers for a second. Her need for release was almost painful, and she couldn't move quickly enough, her fingers scrambled to undo the laces on his leather pants.
Cole pulled back from her suddenly, his face set in violent lines, his body coiled as if preparing for another fight. The raging inferno within her was doused when Cole abruptly dropped her and her legs slid off his hips to land wobbly on the ground, stumbling against the bookcase as she suddenly found herself pushed behind a solid wall of lean muscle. His firm hand held her anchored behind him.
Ember couldn't see beyond the back of Cole's shaggy blonde head, but she could hear his tightly controlled voice chill the air by a few thousand degrees. "I don't want to hurt you, but I won't let you harm her."
Ember placed her hand on Cole's arm, feeling the muscles clench taut beneath her fingers. She poked her head out, peering around his towering frame to see what horrible creature was coming for them.
The room was empty.
Well, except for the peculiar looking raven with the strange yellow eyes that was perched on a low hanging wooden beam.
Utterly confused, she blinked once. Twice. "Cole, are you speaking to the… bird?"
Ember gasped when the raven flew toward them and shifted in mid-air into a mysterious and exotic-looking woman with unnatural yellow eyes and dark mauve lips. Her raven-black hair was pulled back into a loose bun with a sweep of long bangs draped across her striking face. Smooth pale shoulders were bare in a strapless floor-length ball gown of black and dark red velvet, with gold embroidery and a low-cut neckline.
"Well, well… what have we here?" The stunning woman's voice was low and throaty, and mocking. "The leader of the new Inquisition, fabled herald of the faith. Delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of Blessed Andraste herself." Yellow eyes lined with black shadow flickered over Ember with mirth and intrigue. "You… have been very busy this evening. Moments ago you were very, very busy," she murmured with humor as she approached them with a leisurely ease, hips swaying, booted feet stepping over a body.
Cole's grip on Ember tightened, keeping her safely tucked behind him as the abnormal woman drew closer to them.
At his subtle act of protectiveness, the woman's eyes shifted to Cole, appraising him with keen curiosity and caution. "Tis a dangerous companion you keep, Inquisitor," the woman drawled as she watched them, like a hawk, eying Cole up and down with great interest, causing Ember's hackles to rise. "A very dangerous and most intriguing creature this one is."
The woman was tall and graceful as she came to stand in front of Cole, though her yellow eyes settled on Ember as she peeked around Cole's lanky form. "I can see why you keep him so… close. Temptation lying in the forbidden, yes?"
Ember's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
"You may call me Morrigan." Her head tilted forward slightly. "Some call me advisor to Empress Celene on matters of the arcane."
Aqua eyes widened with recognition. "Leliana told me about you. You're the swamp witch who left the Warden right after the battle with the Archdemon."
The woman's eyes turned frosty. "Do not lecture me, for you know nothing of me or what happened between me and the Warden. Twas her decision to make."
Ember folded her arms. "That's not what your sister said."
Those yellow eyes glowed with vehemence. "How could you know such a thing?"
She answered simply, "I met her after escaping Seheron."
Shocked, the witch inquired, "Truly, you know of Yavana?"
"Yes, I've met the Beast of the Tellari swamps."
Morrigan chuckled. "Tis' most humorous the names the women of my family are given." With a derisive scoff, she asked, "Tell me, is Yavana still busy reviving dragons?"
With a nod, Ember answered, "She is."
"Fool," the witch snapped.
Ember's eyes narrowed on her. "You don't like your sister, do you?"
"Besides the fact that she is a complete and utter bitch, no, I don't like her at all." Her expression twisted with resentment and scorn. "My sister plays with her little dragons and thinks she wields more power than I. I, who've prowled shadows that she could never even dream existed. But my sister matters not," the woman scoffed with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I have been watching you as you hunt in every dark corner of the palace. Perhaps you and I hunt the same prey."
One red eyebrow rose. "Do we?"
"Recently I found, and killed, an unwelcome guest within these very walls. An agent of Tevinter." Her arms folded. "So I offer you this, Inquisitor: A key found on the Tevinter's body. Where that key leads, I cannot say. Yet if Celene is in danger, I cannot leave her side long enough to search. You can."
The witch attempted to hand Ember the key, but Cole shifted to keep Ember behind him and took the key himself.
The witch chuckled softly at him. "Tis a noble act, demon. But I do not wish to harm the Inquisitor."
Cole's voice was as sharp as a blade. "You are neither here nor there. You are nowhere. I don't believe you."
"You are required to do nothing, least of all, believe," the woman replied, a hint of her power crackling around her, as if in warning. "We all have our parts to play, demon. After the show you two just gave, tis easy to tell which part you play."
Ember looked down at the key as Cole handed it to her. "Briala's people are whispering about disappearances in the servants' quarters. This key may lead there."
"The ambassador does have eyes and ears everywhere, does she not?" Yellow eyes flickered to Cole, revealing the depth of her disquiet and apprehension. "Proceed with caution, Inquisitor. And I speak not only of your enemies aligned with Tevinter."
With that the woman shifted back into a raven and flew off.
Ember sighed as she pocketed the key, knowing their little distraction was over. "I guess we should head for the servants' quarters."
Cole nodded, his features looking strained. He turned and walked over to his cuirass, pulling it back on and then his belt.
With roasting cheeks, Ember walked over to her torn smalls lying on the ground and stuffed them into her bodice, making one breast seem larger than the other, but she didn't care. She wasn't going to leave her underwear lying on the ground in the grand library of the Winter Palace.
She walked over to Cole and together they headed for the door, but they stopped when they heard the slight crunch of something under Cole's booted foot. Cole's body froze, as if he'd been hit with a Winter's Grasp.
Curious, she watched him as he slowly lifted his foot, as if he feared to see what he'd stepped on. His eyes widened as he stared down at the last forget-me-not that had been in her hair, which was now crushed beneath his boot.
"It's okay, Cole," she said softly, trying to reassure him. "We can always get more blue leeches."
His eyes snapped to hers, wide and fearful. "W-What did you say?"
Her eyebrows furrowed at his terrified look. "We can always get more blue leeches," she repeated.
He silently crouched down on the balls of his feet, trying to put the torn petals back onto the stem, but they fell back to the floor with each desperate attempt.
"Blue leeches. That's what my mother always called forget-me-nots because they are really a weed," Ember said. "She said all gardeners hate forget-me-nots. But that never stopped me from loving them. I know what it's like to be hated by people simply for being what you are. They are my favorite flower."
"But I… I destroyed the last one," he murmured softly, so softly, fear prominent in his tone. "And the old woman said…"
After a long pause, his expression suddenly shifted into rigid resolve as he let the flowers fall to the floor. "She was wrong."
Cole stood and walked tautly to the fireplace. He bent down and collected his hat off the floor and put it on, pulling the brim low over his eyes.
"He won't take you," he declared, his tone impassioned and his determination fierce. "I won't let him."