A/N: Well, you all knew this whole peaceful negotiation thing couldn't go along without a hitch, right? I mean, this IS Solas we're talking about and that guy just breeds problems. Thank you again to everyone reading, reviewing, and following. And now, on with the show...

Thirty

The Assassins

"Concentrate," Solas said as he strode behind Mahanon, his feet splashing through the dark, oily puddles of the raw Fade. Dream though it was, the sensations were real, leaving his legs wet and slick with Fade ether.

Ellana's brother had his back to Solas, staring at the transformed landscape ahead of them in the raw Fade. It was the Emerald Graves in winter, the enormous trees barren of leaves and a thin layer of crusty snow over the forest floor. Mahanon had brought his surroundings into the Fade when he slept, unconsciously shaping it as all dreamers do. Yet, because he was also a weak Dreamer mage, Mahanon would be able to change this initial dreamscape. But Mahanon always struggled with it more than Ellana did.

It seemed the siblings' talents manifested in opposites from each other. Ellana found manipulating the Fade in her sleep easy and could dip in and out of others' dreams with increasing skill, but when Solas had tried to teach her to alter reality she'd found it nearly impossible. Mahanon, meanwhile, struggled to master the Fade in his sleep but had quickly taken to reshaping reality. As a result Solas had begun grooming the young Dalish man to become a general. Unfortunately, to be truly great Mahanon needed to be able to reach out through the Fade to find Solas in the night, if he had need. So far that'd proven a stumbling block.

Mahanon sighed, shaking his head. The forest in front of him remained static, unchanged. "It's not coming, hahren."

"You can do this, falon," Solas said, using the term of endearment with real warmth in his voice as he continued pacing. "The power lies within you. Visualize the changes you would make. See them in your mind and reach out into the Fade with your will."

Mahanon glanced at Solas over his shoulder, a small warm smile curling his lips. "How is Lana?" he asked.

Clucking his tongue, Solas motioned toward the forest. "You are too easily distracted. We are not here to discuss ma vhenan."

"Lessons can wait until my mind is settled," Mahanon said, turning his back on the forest to face Solas. "I'm too worried about her to do anything useful right now."

Now Solas chuckled. "She is safe. I am taking every precaution to keep her that way."

"I wish you would've let me go with you," Mahanon grumbled, frowning. "I could—"

"You are of far greater use leading the People in the Emerald Graves than you would be in Halamshiral," Solas interrupted Mahanon, his voice gentle despite the slight tone of command within it. "There are few with skills such as yours and we cannot spare them for distractions like these foolish peace talks."

"Foolish?" Mahanon echoed, arching an eyebrow. "Lana thinks there's hope they could work."

Solas kept his expression neutral. "So far there has been no sign that the humans will yield." Squaring his shoulders, he nodded at Mahanon. "That is why I left you behind, falon. I do not trust they will not launch an attack now that the winter snows have subsided." He didn't add—and never would—that the humans might have more cause to attack than Mahanon knew as Solas had ordered Var and other loyal generals to lead city elves in supply raids using the eluvians. Not to mention the ongoing chaos he had Zevanni stirring in Tevinter.

Mahanon clenched his jaw, sobering. "I understand." Then, pausing a moment, he eyed Solas with a glint of amusement brightening his gaze. "My Keeper told me she sent a special gift that you requested for Lana with you. When do you intend on giving it to her?"

"Ah," Solas said with a mock-frown. "Now I understand your poor performance, da'len. You are distracted with gossip from your clan. Must I forbid you from such diversions?"

With the Emerald Graves somewhat secure, Solas had welcomed an increasing number of Dalish clans into the area, including almost all of clan Lavellan, which had come through the eluvian he'd gotten to them a few weeks back. Their Keeper had passed off what control she had of Wycome to the city elf leaders, which had been a timely decision on her part as the news of Fen'Harel's rebellion had inspired increasing hostility from humans toward the clan and elves as a whole in the Free Marches.

Recognizing that Solas wasn't serious, Mahanon grinned. "You could try, hahren, but Rinaya's wrath is a thing few have the courage to risk. My bondmate will not hesitate to skin you like a hare and make the pelt into a blanket for our daughter."

Solas laughed, surprising himself with the force of it. As he caught his breath, still smiling with the good humor, he said, "Well then, I suppose I can be lenient, considering that my life is at stake."

"A wise decision, hahren," Mahanon quipped seriously. Smirking, he added, "But you never answered my question about the betrothal gift. Deshanna made our crafters remake it twice before she found it worthy. She won't rest until she hears it has served its purpose."

Still smiling, Solas chuckled again. "And neither will you, evidently."

He'd discussed formally committing to Ellana in a bonding ceremony then with the Keeper, learning what their clan usually did for such events weeks ago when they'd stayed with clan Lavellan in the fall. He'd commissioned a specific bow for Ellana then to fulfill the betrothal gift portion of the clan's tradition and paid for its crafting by sharing dozens of spells she didn't know. Solas had hoped to pledge himself to Ellana weeks ago, as soon as he finished with the Forgotten Ones, but the campaign in the Emerald Graves had taken over everything else. It seemed now that the Keeper and Mahanon had both tired of waiting on him.

"Well?" Mahanon held his arms out in an expectant gesture.

Solas opened his mouth to reply but then shuddered, staggering as cold assaulted him, biting and breathtaking. The wards, he realized. Gasping, he saw Mahanon's face warp with shock and worry. The younger elf leapt for him, reaching out to comfort. "Lethallin!"

"I must wake," he said and then, closing his eyes, willed the Fade away. Mahanon's hands passed through him, a scalding warmth that faded away into nothing.

Solas sprang upright, eyes opening into darkness. The chill from his wards still froze his blood, making him grit his teeth together to keep them from chattering. One hand shot out to the left, feeling Ellana's warm body, asleep. In the same instant he saw the golden light shining, faint and dim, on the far window where someone or something had opened it and disrupted the ward, setting off the ice spell trap. Solas had included runes in the spell to ensure it woke him when it triggered, causing some feedback cold to flow into him. Yet there was nothing obviously wrong in the room…

He heard muffled cursing, shivering as someone reacted to the ice spell. Focusing on the sound, Solas cast a single veilfire orb and sent it flying away. The extra light immediately illuminated the black figure perched on the window, clutching it.

Heart pounding, Solas Fade stepped from the bed even before he was completely on his feet. He popped out of it within arm's length of the window and then, with a pushing motion using both fists, used a wave of spiritual energy to blast the intruder backward. The man shrieked as he fell out of the window, careening two stories down to the courtyard below.

Solas was about to teleport down to capture the man when the window to his right, closer to the bed, drew his attention. A split-second later he saw another figure in black force that window open, setting off another ward. Solas shivered as the ice spell crawled through his veins, but the attacker stiffened, frost spreading over his clothes. He gripped the window with hands that were as pale as the white walls.

"Fool," Solas snarled and his eyes flared purple as he reached for his mana core, pulling the energy for the more significant spell. The would-be assassin turned into stone, frozen permanently in the open window. With a flourish, Solas used a veilstrike to knock the statue backward with a resounding bang.

Ellana shouted his name, her voice thick from sleep. "Solas!?"

Before he could answer a third attacker appeared, this time through the window closest to the bed. Ellana let out a shriek of surprise as the window swung wide with a creak of little-used hinges, letting in a waft of cold nighttime air. The ward activated, freezing the assassin and Solas Fade stepped to close the distance and petrified him as well. In only a few heartbeats all three assassins had been dispatched.

Recalling the man he'd left alive, Solas Fade stepped to the farthest window and surged through it in a cloaking cloud of purple-black. He rematerialized in the courtyard where the sole surviving assassin lay on his back, groaning from the impact, stunned and likely wounded. Solas glanced up at the palace wall behind him, seeing three black ropes along the wall that the men had used to abseil down to their room from the roof. There was no sign of anyone else on the roof.

Relaxing slightly, Solas surveyed the courtyard and, seeing it was deserted except for himself, the writhing assassin, and the two shattered statues nearby, tucked his arms behind his back and regarded the wounded man. "Who hired you?"

The assassin spluttered, cursing in heavily accented Common. He was Antivan by the accent. Perhaps one of the Crows? The only word Solas made out clearly was, "Demon."

"Who hired you?" Solas repeated, stalking closer. The chilly night air made him shiver, realizing vaguely that he wore only his thin tunic and leggings.

"Fuck off," the man snarled and laughed, but the noise held a note of hysteria. He was shaking, but probably not from the cold.

"Was it the Empress?" Solas asked, letting his hands return to his sides. "Or perhaps the Divine?" Wriggling his fingers, he considered his next move and cut a quick glance at the three open windows of their room to see Ellana leaning out, watching him with an anxious look on her face. A greenish light glowed from her left hand on the pale windowsill and his stomach clenched seeing it. His magic had awakened the Anchor, though currently she didn't appear as though it caused her pain.

The assassin refused to answer. Solas assessed his dark clothing and frame, determining he was human rather than elven. What little skin he could see in the bleak darkness of the night suggested the man had a slightly darker pigmentation. That suggested an Antivan background again. "Are you with the Crows?" Solas asked.

The assassin hawked and spat at him, the wad of spittle falling far short. "Said fuck off, knife-ear."

With a hard, fast breath, Solas scowled as he resigned himself to what he must do next. Raising his right hand, he reached into his core, coiling magic in his fist in a continuous slow feed. When he opened the fist, flinging the magic in the form of spiritual energy, he willed it to cause pain. The greenish energy engulfed the man as hungrily as fire and immediately he choked, gurgling as his eyes bugged open wide. Then, chest heaving, he screamed and began thrashing. Solas kept the magic flowing as he edged closer, kneeling to snatch the assassin's mask away from his other hand. He tossed the bit of black fabric aside, scrutinizing the man's face as it contorted and wrenched with agony.

Closing his fist again, Solas spoke in a hard, cold voice, "Who hired you?"

The man panted, teeth gritted and body quivering. He remained silent.

"Very well," Solas said and let the magic flow again.

The assassin screamed, high-pitched and bloodcurdling. The pitiful sounds rang out over the courtyard, bouncing from the walls of the palace and the smaller buildings and structures in the gardens. Solas looked again to Ellana and saw she'd clapped her right hand over her mouth, likely appalled. Ignoring her, Solas continued the torture for several more seconds before clenching his fist and repeating his question, gruffer now. "Your employers. Tell me and I will end your pain."

Distantly Solas heard shouting. The assassin's screams had been too loud for guards and other personnel to miss. I'm running out of time, he thought.

The assassin spluttered, spitting and struggling to breathe. Blood flecked his lips and was starting to dribble from his nose. "Eh…." he said, but Solas couldn't make it out through the man's slurring. "Eh…"

"Speak up," he commanded, raising his right hand, using it as a silent threat. "Who hired you?"

The clattering of armored guards' footsteps grew steadily louder until abruptly Solas saw three Orlesian guards and one Inquisition sentry round the side of the palace. All four drew their weapons and one of the Orlesians shouted, "Halt! What's going on here?"

Fenedhis, Solas thought with a snarl. With a flick of his right hand he drew a burst of mana and shaped it into fire, willing it at the assassin with a flick of his hand. The man shrieked as the fire engulfed him, but the cries quickly stopped. The flash fire consumed him so quickly it left little except ash and the stink of burnt protein and hair. The guards charged forward, roaring in outrage and demanding he stand down, but Solas waved his other arm, casually using a veilstrike to knock all four men flat onto their faces.

"Enough," he said, growling. "Calm yourselves."

One of the guards, recovering before the others, struggled to right himself and speak, asking, "What is the meaning of this? Who are—"

"I am Fen'Harel," he cut the man off, stalking a few steps away toward the palace wall. "And I have executed an assassin—three of them, actually. Do not try my patience further."

"By the void," the Inquisition sentry muttered, wide-eyed and breathless. "Fen'Harel." The sentry was on his feet and running away a moment later, doubtless going to report to Leliana.

The three Orlesians recovered more slowly and stood tense, watching him from behind their glittering silver masks. Solas eyed the window above him and then, deciding against teleporting for fear it'd set off the Anchor, he marched past the guards, hands clenched at his sides. They turned with him, likely considering making a move to arrest him, but even they understood who he was and that both the Empress and the Divine had decreed he was diplomatically immune during the peace talks.

The assassin's slurred single syllable rang out inside Solas' mind: Eh. Had he been about to name Empress Celene, using her title? Or was it the Inquisition?

Fools, he raged, his heart pounding and sweat beading on his brow despite the chilliness of the nighttime air. Shem fools.

"We reject these odious claims as baseless and unwarranted," Celene said, her voice nasally and deep. She kept her head tilted back, literally looking down her nose at Ellana and Solas. "The guards and the Inquisition sentry report no evidence of an attack on you."

"Yes," Solas snarled. "I suppose you would find no evidence if you yourself had hired them. It's also very convenient of you to ignore the ropes left outside our room that the assassins used to abseil from the roof."

They sat in the same pavilion that the Exalted Council had taken place in, but now the space had been renovated for winter to be enclosed. Braziers burned on the columns at the edges of the space, keeping the frigidness of the late winter air at bay and providing light inside the windowless area. A small number of seats had been laid out for dignitaries and other important guests who might be called upon for expertise or testimony. Many of those in attendance had come in Ellana and Solas' retinue, but there were other notable people—such as Leliana, Cullen, Varric, Vivienne, and Dorian—who were not.

The Empress, Briala, and Cassandra all sat at the long table at the head of the pavilion, elevated slightly over their two elven "guests," and currently glowering down at them. Ellana gazed toward the small doorway that led to the gardens outside where she knew a small tent had been erected to serve as a privy. They'd only been at the talks for half an hour and already her bladder was growing tight. It didn't help that she kept drinking from the water that'd been left at their table, trying to cool the fire of heartburn in her throat.

The reality of the attempt on their lives the night before still made her feel queasy. Which of them had sent the assassins? She looked between the Empress, Briala, and the Divine, lingering on Cassandra as she felt pain cut through her chest. Could Cassandra really have called for their deaths? Solas had insisted to her that anyone could be responsible. They had no friends here, no one whom they could trust.

But the unhappy pinch of Cassandra's expression—and the way her eyes looked soft at the edges as she stared back at Ellana—suggested otherwise. The news of their attack hadn't been a surprise to her, but she didn't look happy about it in the least. Though Ellana could already guess Solas' take on it: the Divine was just upset that her assassins had failed.

"It is our understanding that one of these supposed attackers remained alive when the palace guards found you," the empress said with a sniff. "The guards say he could have been taken for questioning, but you tortured and killed him instead."

Gasps rang out from behind Ellana and she felt heat spread over her cheeks. She'd been unable to watch Solas torture the assassin, choosing to withdraw into their room and cover her ears against his pitiful screams. It was a necessary evil, she told herself. Just as they'd inevitably had to spill human blood as they took the Emerald Graves. There were always some who resisted, who would fight despite the outcome.

"Savage," Briala added, voice ringing with contempt. "You do our people a great disservice with such behavior."

"Tell me something, Marquise Briala," Solas replied, the words clipped and cold. "When you find a snake in your home, threatening your family, do you kill it or do you endanger yourself by capturing it and releasing it elsewhere?"

"It is not the same," Briala insisted.

Solas' lips curled in a snarl. "And why is that? Because you proclaim it to be so? Regardless, I did what I did because I could not trust any of you to exact the truth from him, and I had no doubt that had I released him to you I would find myself facing him again. So, I did the world a small favor. Now there is one less snake." He shook his head, jostling the wolf headdress he wore. "I hardly see how my behavior is savage as you claim. I suppose you consider it less savage to invite us for peace negotiations while plotting our deaths?"

"You have no proof of these claims," the empress repeated.

Cassandra huffed. "Empress Celene is right," she said. "By your own hand, Solas, you have left no evidence of these attackers." She cut a glance toward the audience behind Ellana, likely at Leliana and Cullen. "But the Inquisition sentry did report there were three ropes dangling from the roof. I believe there was an attempt on your lives last night and I condemn it. We are here to negotiate an end to hostilities. There is no reason for—"

"We received no such reports," the empress interrupted her, frowning. "The Inquisition has served Orlais well in alliance, but we cannot help but to wonder if its connection with Lady Lavellan creates undo sympathy to these detestable claims."

Cassandra scoffed. "We can bring forward the sentry in question for his testimony if you insist, but the Inquisition serves the Chantry and myself and is led by Lady Nightingale. Lady Lavellan no longer has any connection with it."

Ellana winced despite herself before schooling her reaction and nodding in confirmation. "Most holy speaks the truth." She tapped a finger on the table, seeing the angry scowls from both Celene and Briala, and decided to try and defuse the situation with humor. "I am clearly in no condition to run down Inquisition sentries and coerce them into changing their reports in the dead of night. In fact, the only running I do lately is to the privy." She hauled herself upright. "Speaking of which—most holy, Marquise, your majesty—please excuse me a few moments."

Only Cassandra answered her, saying, "Of course." The other two women, particularly the empress, shot her looks of disgust. Solas watched her rise from her seat and motioned behind their table to the audience, almost certainly signaling Lyris to accompany her. Ellana didn't wait for the warrior as she walked away from the table.

A few mean-spirited chuckles and whispers broke out behind her as she started for the door leading to the gardens. Ellana kept her head up, ignoring them. Lyris stepped up to her side, trotting quickly to reach her and keep pace. The warrior opened the door and strode out first, down the short stairs to the yellowed grass of the gardens, which had yet to green up after the recent thaw of snow. Some snow still lay in the corners, persevering despite the gradually increasing temperature as winter transitioned to spring. The decorative bushes scattered about were laden with ripening buds but had yet to bloom.

With Lyris standing watch, Ellana stepped into the tent that served as a privy and shut the flap behind her. The Orlesians had brought out a portable, enclosed bench with a hole cut into it. Inside would be a large chamber pot or bucket for catching excrement and the tent stank faintly of urine. She sighed, swallowing her disgust, and tried not to imagine Lyris or others outside overhearing the tinkling as she relieved herself.

She had just finished when she heard Lyris speak outside in a threatening growl. "What are you doing here?"

A second later a familiar female voice replied, "Her majesty invited me. She seeks to learn more of her latest opponent in the great Game. Why wouldn't I attend at her summons?"

Morrigan.

Scrambling to secure her coat and make herself as presentable as possible, Ellana left the tent and found herself standing several meters from the black-haired witch. Lyris was at Ellana's side, tensed and with her spectral blade hilt clutched in one fist, ready to use. The blonde warrior glared daggers at the witch; her icy blue eyes promised violence if Morrigan took another step closer. Morrigan, for her part, looked clean and crisp, wearing a fashionably corseted dress with long sleeves and beaded embroidery. Her black hair gleamed even in the dimness of the overcast late winter day.

"Lady Lavellan," she said, smirking as she gave an exaggerated curtsy. "What a pleasant surprise meeting you here." Her golden eyes roved over Ellana, lingering on her pronounced belly. "I hope you and the little one are doing well?"

Ellana rubbed at her abdomen, unable to quite quash her self-consciousness. "Yes, we're doing well. It's good to see you. I had expected to meet you in the Emerald Graves…"

Morrigan tilted her head, smiling coyly. "Circumstances prevented me from meeting you as I promised, but I would never miss these peace negotiations and the chance to see you again in person."

"What circumstances?" Ellana asked with a frown, crossing her arms over her chest in the limited space between her belly and her breasts.

"You cannot trust her," Lyris hissed under her breath.

Morrigan shot the warrior a glare. "Such suspicious friends you have, Lady Lavellan." She cleared her throat. "I could not meet with you in the Emerald Graves as promised because `twas not safe for me. Fen'Harel followed you more quickly than I expected."

"Conniving bitch," Lyris snarled, advancing a step threateningly.

"Lyris," Ellana scolded with a frown. "Please. There's no need for that."

Lyris glared at the yellow-green grass underfoot, her cheeks mottled red with her rage. Her right fist still clutched the hilt of her spectral blade, but her posture eased slightly. "Ir abelas," she muttered.

"Thank you for restraining this cur," Morrigan said dryly, gesturing at Lyris. "`Twould be a pity if I had to reduce her to a stain on the grass."

Ellana huffed irritably. "Enough bickering. We are not children. There's no reason this should be anything but a civil discussion."

"Indeed, Lady Lavellan," Morrigan agreed with a nod and a warm smile. "I wished only to relay Mythal's gratitude to you for your service to the People. I will do what I can to aid you going forward. The Dales will soon belong to the People again."

"Pretty lies," Lyris snarled. "But you are playing the Game. You never stop, Mythal. Tell me, why did you send Abelas to me seeking his vallaslin removed? Did you believe Fen'Harel would be so foolish as to believe that slave would ever break his chains to you?"

Ellana cut a look to Lyris, blinking in bafflement. "You removed Abelas' vallaslin?"

"Fen'Harel taught Mathrel and I the spell when we began taking on so many Dalish clans," Lyris explained quickly. "There were too many asking him to remove them all at once. He could not give them freedom with so many other duties coming first."

Morrigan seemed taken aback, staring at them both for a moment with a blank expression. Then her golden eyes glazed a moment and she scowled, shaking her head even as an ingenuous smile curled her lips. "I…am unsure of what you refer to."

"Lies," Lyris spat. "Every word from your mouth."

Ellana, however, believed the confusion she saw on Morrigan's face. It was the same uneasiness and uncertainty she'd seen when they'd entered the temple of Mythal and heard Corypheus' men reference the Well of Sorrows when they'd all been under the impression that the darkspawn magister was truly after an eluvian. As Ellana watched, Morrigan pinched her lips together and seemed to brush aside the topic, moving onto whatever had drawn her here in what was definitely not an accidental or chance meeting.

"I will meet with you as I am able, my lady," Morrigan said and then frowned as she looked at Lyris briefly. "But clearly I am unwelcome, and this one's reaction will be tame compared to your lover's. He would kill me."

"No," Ellana retorted at once. "That's not true."

Morrigan chuckled. "So wise and yet so naive, Lady Lavellan. But you know Fen'Harel sees trickery everywhere. He will kill any in his service who betray him." Her coy smile widened. "And `twas it not just last night that he chose to torture and kill an assassin rather than trust the Orlesians or the Inquisition?"

"How do you know about that?" Ellana asked, frowning.

"Perhaps they were her assassins," Lyris suggested in a grumbling voice.

Morrigan laughed, tossing her head back at the force of it, though she regained her composure swiftly. "My assassins? Truly? How foolish of me to seek to slay my own champions—or had you forgotten that `twas I who opened the hearts of hundreds of clan Keepers and Firsts?" Motioning to Ellana she added, "Including your own Keeper and brother. Mahanon is his name, correct? A fine young man, that one."

Ellana shuffled on her feet, beginning to feel an ache in her lower back from standing. "You didn't answer my question."

"How did I know about the assassins?" Morrigan repeated it, cocking her head and smirking. "Have you forgotten how quickly rumor spreads through the palace? Do you know how many tales I have heard just since this morning concerning you and your Dread Wolf?" She laughed again, flashing her white teeth. "My favorite is the most persistent—that you are actually heavy with the Inquisition commander's babe. `Tis a most scandalous tale, that one."

Sighing, Ellana dropped her gaze to her feet and then, clucking her tongue to herself when she found yet again that she could no longer see her toes around her burgeoning belly, she switched her focus to Morrigan's feet instead. "That story would be Madame de Fer's doing. To humiliate Solas, I suppose."

"I applaud her ingenuity for its hilarity," Morrigan said, her grin sly. "But Fen'Harel will never take such prattle seriously." Sobering, she edged a step closer, despite earning a growl from Lyris. "What he will take seriously is the danger in this palace. Mark my words, Lady Lavellan, last night's assassination attempt will certainly not be the last. Fen'Harel will lose patience with this charade eventually, especially because he has never expected it to work."

Ellana had guessed as much and didn't raise her eyes to meet Morrigan's stare now. Rubbing her back with one hand, she tried to stretch subtly as she struggled to come up with a response that was neutral and as unreadable as possible.

"When Fen'Harel does finally snap…" Morrigan clucked her tongue, humming in her throat. The sound drew Ellana's gaze and she found the witch's face darkened with black humor. "Well…I expect Southern Thedas will come to remember the Dread Wolf much as the Dalish have: a villain."

"That's already what they think of him," Ellana pointed out, shoulders sagging and voice heavy with sorrow. "Are you counseling me to end the negotiations? Would we be better served just taking what we want, even though thousands could die?"

"No," Morrigan said somberly. "I am advising you to be cautious. And, perhaps, you might attempt to appeal more to Marquise Briala. She may be the more important ally in Orlais. She is, after all, Marquise of the Dales."

Nodding, Ellana smiled. "Thank you, Lady Morrigan. I will take that advice to heart."

"See that you do," Morrigan replied, the coy smile returning. "And take care that you stay on your lover's good side." Smiling, she turned her back on them, waving daintily over her shoulder as she strode away. Her heeled shoes rustled gently against the yellowed grass and her dress swished. "Please give Fen'Harel Mythal's warm regards for me."

As soon as the witch was out of earshot, Lyris reached for Ellana, squeezing her shoulder and staring somberly into her face, as if searching for something before she said, "You know Fen'Harel would never harm you." It wasn't a question.

"Of course," Ellana said, though she laid a hand over her belly unconsciously. But he might imprison me if he decides I'm a threat. She couldn't stop the dark thought form passing through her mind and scowled, pulling out of Lyris' soft hold. "We must return to the pavilion before Solas gets worried."

At the noonday break Josephine approached them before they could slip from the pavilion. The Inquisition's ambassador was dressed in formalwear that matched Cullen and Leliana, pert and professional, and despite the circumstances all smiles as she spoke to Ellana. "Pardon me, Lady Lavellan, but I had hoped to invite you to an informal lunch with myself, Varric, and Thom." Her brown eyes slid to Solas and, without any hint of hesitance or displeasure, began extending the offer to him as well. "You are more than welcome as well, Master Solas."

Solas, standing at Ellana's side like a brooding shadow, watched Josephine from beneath his wolf headdress, aloof and inscrutable. Had he noticed, as Ellana had, that most of their Inquisition companions had incredible trouble referring to him as the Dread Wolf? Was it a ploy or an indicator that they still hoped to see him revert back to the humble, woodsy apostate?

"I'd love to Josie," Ellana answered, smiling. A glance toward Solas, however, confirmed her suspicions that he disapproved, and she could already guess why. "But…"

"It would be wiser to decline," Solas said, voice stiff. The twist of his mouth with sorrow rather than displeasure made Ellana's shoulders sag under the weight of her upper body. She wasn't Inquisitor any longer and any association with an official member, like Josephine, would cast doubt on their involvement in the talks as a neutral entity. Inevitably, despite Ellana's wishes to believe otherwise, this invitation was another part of the Game. Just as everything at Halamshiral was.

The ambassador nodded even as her face fell at their response. "I understand." She wrung her hands, staring at the floor a moment before she cleared her throat and said, "It was truly to be informal, but your caution is indeed warranted." She flashed a smile that was bright despite the sadness in her eyes. "Regardless, it was good to see you, Lady Lavellan, Master Solas. Should I not see you again, I wanted to wish you well, and not just on your little one. The elven people deserve a homeland of their own."

Ellana raised a brow, surprised by the emphatic tone Josephine had used. Solas made a humming noise in the back of his throat. "That is a most unpopular sentiment, Lady Montiliyet. You surprise me."

Josephine smiled, closed lipped this time as she dipped her head. "I shall take that as a compliment." Then, sobering, she reached out and grasped Ellana's hands in her own, squeezing. "I was good to see you, my lady."

As Josephine released Ellana's hands and walked away to exit the pavilion, Ellana found herself clutching a small crumpled note on smooth, white parchment. Clenching her fist to hide the note, her heart started hammering in her chest. She saw Solas watching her, the glitter of his eyes from under the wolf headdress distinctive despite the shadow. "Vhenan?" he asked, sensing her shifting mood.

"Let's take lunch in our chambers," she said quickly, narrowing her eyes at him to communicate silently. "I'm starving and I have to—"

"Answer the call of nature?" He smirked. "Certainly." Laying a hand at the small of her back, Solas walked with her from the pavilion. Lyris and Mathrel tailed after them, the ever-vigilant bodyguards. Ellana palmed the note as they walked, feeling it absorb the sweat from her hand. She barely registered the gilded paneling on the walls they passed or heard the hushed whispers of servants and guards as they went by. Finally at their room they found a meal of pastas waiting for them, rich with crusty cheeses that set Ellana's mouth watering at once, though she knew she had to wait for the food to be tested.

While the taster and the apothecary tested the food, Ellana sat on their bed and opened the note from Josephine. An hour after sundown, the note read, meet me at the baths. The note was unsigned but had been written on clean, crisp stationary carrying the Inquisition's heraldry on it and the handwriting Ellana recognized as being Leliana's—not Josephine's.

When the taster and the apothecary had finished and left, Ellana shared the note with Solas as they ate. He grunted with interest and then, casually, ignited the parchment between his fingers. The ashes scattered on the table and he dusted them aside between forkfuls of lunch.

"Leliana," he said, coming to the same conclusion she had. His expression was neutral, hard to read beneath the headdress, which he had yet to take off despite the fact they were alone.

"Do we meet with her?" Ellana asked, struggling to contain her own anxiousness and keep it from showing. She chased a noodle around her plate, trailing strings of cheese. Her stomach, already tight from the constant press of the baby, seemed to have shrunken, tightening like a fist.

"It could be a trap," Solas said, a note of hesitance in his voice. "But I believe it worth the risk. Leliana may know who hired the assassins. My spies suspect the empress rather than the Inquisition, as do I." He paused, sighing. "I expect they hope you alone will show. My presence may…" His lips tugged downward. "…disrupt their trust."

"You'd let me go alone?" she asked, arching a brow in disbelief.

Now he smiled. "Not truly, but in appearance. I can linger out of sight and come to you quickly if there is any sign of trouble." Pushing his plate away, he absently clinked his fork against the edge of the pale porcelain tray their food had come on. "There is a palace rumor that the Inquisition is desperate to reclaim you as Inquisitor."

Ellana's jaw dropped with surprise. "Really?" she gawped. At his nod and the smirk he wore over his lips, she snorted. "Even after I ran off with the Dread Wolf they'd forgive me and take me back? You cannot be serious, trickster."

"Indeed," he said, grinning now, apparently fond of this rumor and the playful note in her voice. "I've heard a few variations on it, of course. Mostly that I have you under some kind of spell or—"

"Or I lost my mind because I'm pregnant?" She rolled her eyes, spearing a few noodles with a squeal of metal on porcelain. "I've heard that one."

"Yes, that's another one." He tapped the fork again on the tray. "We can't combat that rumor, but if you meet alone with Leliana at the baths you can reassure her that I don't have you under a spell or on a leash." He dropped the fork with a gentle clink and smiled, playful and lascivious. "If only the palace knew the scandalous truth."

She shot him a small, coy grin of her own. "Which is what, exactly?"

Solas leaned his elbows onto the small table between them, his blue eyes glinting beneath the shadow of the headdress. His teeth flashed, bright and sharp in his mouth and making her body flush warm at the thought of what he could do with those lush lips and tongue. "That I am the one on the leash, I should think."

Scoffing, she let out a quick laugh. "Hardly."

"Vhenan," he said, suddenly somber. He swallowed, throat bobbing. "Would you consent to—"

Whatever he'd been about to ask was cut off as they both whipped their heads toward the closed door to their chambers, having heard Lyris' shout and the sudden, harsh thumping of feet on the floor. Solas cursed under his breath and shot upright, Fade stepping in a blue for the door. Ellana was suddenly dizzy, her mouth bone dry. She got to her feet, scrambling to the dresser where she'd left her bow and the accompanying arrow quiver.

Solas threw open the door and Ellana saw Lyris lunging with her spectral blade buzzing, bright white as it cut through the figure facing her. The lithe rogue attacking her fell backward, crumpling as the spectral blade passed through the woman's chest. Blood spurted, hissing in arterial spray.

A blurred shape caught Ellana's eye and she nocked an arrow as she yelled, "Cloaked rogue!"

The attacker reappeared, slashing with his daggers, aiming for Solas' neck. But Solas phased out, blurring in a miniaturized Fade step, streaking through his attacker and freezing him solid. Ellana released her arrow, launching it straight through the frozen figure and the rogue shattered a second later, little more than dust under their combined attacks.

Solas cast again, using both hands in a waving gesture and Ellana shivered, feeling the temperature plummet. Her breath fogged in front of her as the water in the air froze and fell away, sparkling like glitter. They stood motionless, tense and waiting for any other attackers—visible or invisible alike. Long seconds passed with nothing but the sound of Ellana's blood rushing in her ears.

Finally Lyris staggered into the doorway, teeth gnashing and coated in crimson. Ellana gasped, realizing suddenly that the arcane warrior had been wounded. "Lyris!"

Solas Fade stepped to catch Lyris in his arms as she fell.

Next Chapter:

Laying a hand on his forearm, Ellana squeezed. "What do we do, emma lath?"

His nostrils flared as he breathed, not looking at her for a long moment. Then his blue-gray eyes slid to her and narrowed. "We will show them that wolves have fangs."