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Bridget and the others made their way through the Royal Wing. Feeling that they were closing in on their assassin, Bridget worried less about having left the ball; let the nobles disapprove of her if they wanted. She was saving their Empress—they would appreciate that or not, depending on their own goals and desires.
In what turned out to be Florianne's bedroom, she found a dying elf, managing to get enough from her to discern that she had been lured here to her death, no doubt to keep her quiet about something she knew.
"You know what this means, don't you?" Blackwall asked.
"That Florianne's promise of finding proof against Gaspard is also a trap, meant to lure me in and kill me? Yes, I'm getting that impression." Bridget sighed, weary of the ball, the people, the Game, and everything that went along with them.
"But you're going ahead, aren't you?"
"Forewarned is forearmed, isn't that what they say? Besides, if we don't investigate, she'll know we're suspicious of her."
Blackwall grumbled, but his objections subsided.
Bridget moved on further into the wing. Construction was going on here, furniture shrouded in white cloths, scaffolding leaning against the walls. Through a door she could hear someone shouting, and she traded a glance with Blackwall.
"Well, if you must do this," he said gruffly, and he pushed the door open and went through it first, shield held high.
There was a scuffle, and then silence. After a moment, Bridget heard the high, unpleasant voice of Florianne. "Come out, Inquisitor. We have your lover, and he is making it very difficult to hold him. We wouldn't want him to come to harm, now, would we?"
Varric caught her arm when she would have rushed out. "Sunflower. No point in all of us being taken."
"And if we let her kill Blackwall and then run off to kill the Empress, what then, Varric? Where are we?" Bridget shook her head. "Whatever the trap is, I'd rather face Florianne than hide in here."
"Well spoken, my dear," Vivienne said approvingly. "I am behind you."
"Good." Bridget nodded, taking a deep breath, then stepped through the door. Instantly the Anchor in her hand started sparking. There was a rift in the middle of the courtyard, not open yet, but on the verge of it. She would have to open it and let the demons within through in order to close it.
Florianne looked down at her triumphantly; Blackwall gazed at her in despair even as he struggled against the hold several of Florianne's people had on him. Archers ringed the courtyard, as well. Florianne had attempted to leave nothing to chance.
"Inquisitor! How nice of you to join us. I thought love would overcome your caution." Florianne shook her head, clucking her tongue. "Emotions are so inconvenient." She smiled unpleasantly. "I was concerned you might not have taken my bait. Fereldans can be so thick."
"Marchers." Perhaps it didn't matter, but anything to break up Florianne's monologue and distract her.
Florianne fluttered a hand in the air. "There is little difference. Nonetheless, your meddling has ceased to amuse me, and the time is drawing near for the finale of the ball—the Empress's death. Corypheus commands that she be removed from his path tonight, and I would hate to disappoint him."
Bridget drew in a breath at the confirmation of their suspicions.
Varric was working his way slowly toward Blackwall, she could see. She couldn't tell what Vivienne was doing, but she hoped the other mage would help Varric get Blackwall free. They would need his sword arm against the demons and the archers.
Florianne wasn't paying attention. "I admit, I will relish the look on Gaspard's face when he realizes that I have outplayed him. He always was a sore loser."
"What, exactly, is in this for you, my dear? You have always enjoyed your luxuries—I foresee very few available under Corypheus," Vivienne said sharply.
"Lady Vivienne. How short-sighted you are. When I deliver the entire south of Thedas to Corypheus, he will save me. And when he has ascended to godhood, I will rule all Thedas in his name."
"You? You have no experience in ruling, no power. Why would Corypheus need you? You are nothing but a puppet."
Florianne scowled. "I am no one's puppet."
"Believe what you will."
"I am the one in control here—you will soon be believers, as well."
"I've heard that claim before, from Corypheus himself," Bridget told her. "It didn't work for him; it won't work for you."
"So cocky, Inquisitor. And yet who are you really? Just a nobody."
Varric had reached Blackwall, standing poised to attack the men holding him at Bridget's signal. Vivienne was on the other side of the courtyard, staff in hand.
Florianne was smiling to herself. "In their darkest dreams, no one imagines I would assassinate Celene myself."
Bridget hoped Cullen and the others would take her suspicions seriously, and be on their guard. Given how much fighting there would be here in the courtyard, Florianne would almost certainly reach the Empress before Bridget could. She had to trust her advisors to preserve Celene's life.
"A pity you will miss the rest of the ball, Inquisitor. They will be talking of it for years." Florianne looked darkly at the archers. "Kill her. Bring me the marked hand as proof."
And she was gone. Vivienne attacked the archers in front of her, freezing them with a great sweep of her staff. Varric and Blackwall between them made short work of the men who had been holding Blackwall. Bridget used the Anchor to open the rift and then immediately worked to close it, even while Vivienne and Varric attacked anything that tried to come through, and Blackwall took on the thawing archers hand-to-hand.
It was all over far more quickly than Florianne had imagined it could be, Bridget suspected, but still took much too long from the perspective of needing to catch Florianne before she reached the Empress.
As soon as she was certain the last of the rift was closed and the last of Florianne's men was down, Bridget took off running for the ballroom. Vivienne kept pace with her. She was surprised to see how swiftly the other mage could run, since Vivienne usually had a very sedate, studied, elegant stride, but was glad of it, as well—without Vivienne at her side she would have made at least two wrong turns navigating the labyrinth that was Halamshiral.
Fortunately for everyone involved—except for Florianne and Corypheus—Florianne was Orlesian. Making the right entrance had been more important to her than getting the job done quickly; and she had drastically underestimated Bridget and her team. When Florianne caught sight of Bridget across the ballroom, her face paled visibly beneath the silver mask she wore.
She covered it well, Bridget had to give her that. No one who didn't know what had just happened in the courtyard would imagine there was anything amiss. Gaspard, walking with his sister, cast a hard, suspicious eye over Bridget, but she paid no attention to him. It was Florianne she needed to stop.
Cullen appeared at her side, whispering frantically, "Thank the Maker you're back! The Empress is about to begin her speech. What do want us to do?"
She put a hand on his arm. "Wait here, Cullen, while I have a word with the Grand Duchess. A few of them, even," she added grimly. Blackwall was behind her now, and Varric, along with Vivienne. All three of them could attest to what had happened before—and Vivienne and Varric would be believed, regardless of what the court might think of her or of Blackwall or of the Inquisition itself.
"What?" Cullen's whisper was louder now, people near them turning to see what they were talking about. "There's no time! The Empress is going to begin at any moment!"
"Then let's not waste any more time."
She left him standing there, and strode across the dance floor purposefully, her eyes on Florianne as the Grand Duchess waited with Gaspard and Briala for Celene's entrance.
"We owe the court one last show, Your Grace," she said to Florianne's deliberately turned back.
Florianne turned, poised and confident. She clearly still thought she was going to pull this off. "Inquisitor."
Bridget mounted the steps toward her. "The eyes of every noble in the Empire are upon us, Your Grace. Remember to smile. This is your party, after all. You wouldn't want them to think you had lost control, would you?"
The Grand Duchess fell back as Bridget came toward her, the smile she had plastered across her face looking a bit on the sickly side. "Who would not be delighted to speak with you, Inquisitor?" she said weakly.
"I seem to recall you trying very hard to keep me from returning to the ballroom to speak with you. Your archers weren't very well trained, I have to say. I've faced much worse. When they failed to kill me in the garden, I was eager to return for one last dance."
Florianne's mouth opened and closed as she tried to think of a way to save herself. Bridget had to admit to being a little surprised at the way the Grand Duchess had fallen to pieces. She would have expected her to be able to think more quickly on her feet than she was at the moment.
Celene had appeared above them, and was listening intently, looking confused and dismayed. As well she might.
Bridget walked around behind Florianne, continuing, "It seems it is all too easy to fall from your good graces. You even framed your brother for the murder of a Council emissary. Hoping that your misdeeds would be laid at his door, were you?"
Gaspard drew in a shocked breath behind her, but Bridget went on before he could speak.
"It was an ambitious plan, Florianne, I'll give you that. Celene, Gaspard, the entire Council of Heralds … all your enemies under one roof."
"Enemies?" Gaspard objected. "Inquisitor, I think perhaps you—"
Florianne waved him to silence, recovering her poise at last. "This is all very entertaining, Inquisitor, but of course you do not imagine anyone believes your wild stories."
"I believe them." Vivienne's voice rang clearly across the ballroom.
"As do I," Josephine said.
Both women had significant status in Orlesian society. The crowds had begun to murmur, but they silenced after Josephine spoke.
"Your friends in the Inquisition are very loyal, but you have no proof."
From above Florianne's head came the decisive voice of the Empress. "I have heard enough that I believe a judge will be hearing the rest of this, and we will see where the verdict falls, cousin."
Florianne's eyes widened in panic as she felt victory slipping from her grasp. She turned to Gaspard. "Brother, you cannot believe this nonsense! You know that I would never—"
He turned from her without a word even as three of Celene's guards came down the stairs toward Florianne. Briala went with him, both of them withdrawing from the ballroom. The talks were beginning now, then, Bridget surmised. At least they could continue knowing the Empress would be alive to participate in them. That was a relief.
"Gaspard!" Florianne called desperately, falling back as the guards advanced. She turned her head this way and that, searching the crowd for anyone whose support she could count on, but she saw no one. Finally, her gaze settled on Bridget. "You! How dare you come in here and ruin everything I've worked for?"
"You lost this fight ages ago, Your Grace. You're the only one who can't see that."
Florianne, defeated at last, more by the collapse of her plans and the loss of her own assumed superiority than by anything anyone had done against her, fell to her knees, holding her hands up for the guards in a gesture that asked for mercy. Celene might give it to her; Bridget no longer cared.
The guards led the weeping Grand Duchess away, even as the assembled nobility of Orlais lost interest in the scene and returned to their gossiping.