Chapter 32: Unchecked Emotions

Up until Adamant, Evelyn dedicated herself to a rigorous training schedule in preparation for siege and to distract her from the emotional baggage she had accumulated over the past months. The abuse from Ryker had left her empty of emotions, finding little joy in life. It was hard to smile or show any feelings, and she hoped concentrating on herself and her duty would help her out of the depression.

Rising just before the first light, she jogged the ramparts until her lung burned. Waving to the guards and any of her friends who were in the midst of their 'walk of shame,' she became a common sight. Typically, she saw Sera, Bull, Dorian, or her brother slinking back from whatever hole they were sleeping their bender off in. As per the Commander's recommendation, she used the stairs, cutting through the Lower Courtyard, kicking up the permanent mud puddles that were unavoidable. Her heels would splatter it up the back of her breezy sleeveless shirt, as she worked up a lather. After, a short break for water, fruit, and a muffin, she headed straight to the training grounds before it became too crowded. She practiced her spells first, not wanting to conjure when there was a crowd about for obvious safety reasons. Towards the end she practiced with a staff and sword with whoever was around: Blackwall, Bull, Cassandra, Henley, Sorin, or Owayne. Blackwall had been hesitant since knocking her out the week before, but she assured him she'd not let it happen again. The Commander was right in that it would not do to hold back from training and each time she practiced she pushed herself harder despite her healing chest.

Occasionally, she'd duel some of the rank and file looking to prove themselves against their leader for bragging rights. Rylen was careful to officiate the spar and scold the soldiers if he thought they were getting too rough with her. The match always came with a morale boost for all involved and watching, even in the early hours before the real work began. With each new partner, she became more familiar with her soldiers. Their boisterous antics and taunting lightened the mood as the upcoming mission loomed before them - an operation that had just gotten immensely more dangerous. She enjoyed speaking with all the new faces having always tried to make herself accessible to her people regardless of her title. Throughout the day she was approached by those wishing to speak with her as they had after the fall of Haven. While waiting for food in the Great Hall, pursuing the market stalls, walking the garden, and of course, on the training grounds, usually there was always someone seeking an audience.

Many expressed views of her she had never expected to hear. Mages, Templars, nobles, commoners, and individuals of all races came with messages of praise and hope. It puzzled her as to how they could see such good in her after everything, especially when she had a hard time seeing it herself. They reassured her that they were behind her in the fight to come or they commented on her past abuses, them now having been published for all to read about thanks to the Ambassador. While she wasn't thrilled to have her personal history made so public, it had made her more human in the eyes of others as they shared their stories with her. With a sympathetic ear, she listened to their harrowing tales, some of which they had never told a soul about until having been emboldened to face their own demons as she had. Though she had enough on her own conscious, she found herself grasping their hands in support with a weary smile. They were hailed as courageous, resilient, and strong, which she used in her assessment of their fortitude.

Yet, despite all the new acquaintances and friendships found, there was still someone she sorely missed.

As her routine became clockwork, so did the Commander's, which worked seemingly to avoid her. Typically, she was finishing up by the time he began his warm-ups, always saying a polite greeting in passing. Cullen had always been an early riser, as before they had always beaten everyone else there in the morning. So, the fact that he was training so late - at least for his standards - could only mean he was purposely doing it. The only time she saw him was in the War Room or if they had work to discuss, which when able, he'd send one of his runners with messages or reports. Dining in the Great Hall was little more than just a change of scenery from his desk, bringing a stack of papers to read through avoiding all conversation. Evelyn tried her best to ignore his presence, but it only annoyed her to no end the effort he put into neglecting the situation.

Exhausted from suppressing her feelings, she put her petty stubbornness aside. She was going to feel what she was going to feel, why be ashamed of it? She was pining, as loathe as she was to admit it when she had tried so hard to cover it with rage. In quiet moments, her mind wandered to him, though the thoughts varied on the spectrum. On good nights, she dreamt of him with such concupiscence only to wake alone and unfulfilled. Sometimes she allowed herself to hope, especially when she'd catch him staring at her from across Skyhold. However, the light was often overshadowed by the growing void which festered in her heart. Jealousy was the dark's weapon of choice. Any woman in his company became the enemy, even though Cullen was not usually a flirt and always conducted himself professionally, doubt still ate at her. Besides the handful of people who knew about their past relationship, their soldiers and visitors had not a clue. Their flirtatious smiles and the gentle touches to his person were enough to bring her magic to pulse through her veins. It was maddening, and she had to catch herself at times before she did something juvenile just to get his attention.

Cole had been visiting her a lot, spewing her emotional state back at her as she groaned hiding her face in her hands. He only meant to help, but hearing her disgusting inner monologue put into words made her sick. Laden with rage, guilt, jealousy, and despair the ugly cryptic phrases didn't help change her mindset. On the board, you are the queen, and yet for all your power you have no moves left, so you overturn the board sacrificing it all to save them - to save him. Scars, so many, worn as punishment, but his cut to the bone. Time will not heal them, nor stitches or salve. The drink, no matter how strong, is easier to swallow than the fact that he may never come back. It was all bottled up inside, and no matter how hard she hit the practice dummy or how hot she allowed her mana to burn, nothing helped.

"E, you need to cool it," Sorin looked calmly at her, as her aura began overtaking them. "You're going to melt the caps off the Frostbacks soon." It was the night of the feast for Arl Teagan and Sorin had come to fetch her from her quarters. Josie had picked a ring velvet gown that hid the wounds on her chest. The neckline was straight and wide, hanging a few inches off the shoulders with tight long sleeves. It was form-fitting with a golden Inquisition sigil belt that draped off the curvature of her hips. Her hair was half-up in a coiled braid and a few long locks flowed down over her left shoulder.

She took a deep breath, "I can't help it, my balance is off. I need to let it out." The two were up in her quarters on the balcony. "Nothing is helping. Meditation, training, drinking... nothing! We leave for the Western Approach soon and I need to be... better."

"I know one thing, rather someone, who could make you feel better, but he's got his head so far up his arse--"

"Sorin, stop." Of all her companions, Sorin was the angriest with Cullen in his handling of the fallout. The others had their opinions but ultimately were staying out of it, even Dorian though she suspected he sympathized more with his regular chess partner. Sorin though was making it a point to snub the Commander whenever he had the chance, even if by standards his version of insults boarded on the passive side. He wasn't one to get overly emotional, but this had him fired up.

He huffed, "I don't see what his issue is. It wasn't your fault."

"It was my fault the minute I failed to kill that bloody whoreson back in Ostwick," her knuckles gripped the back of the lounge chair all but ripping the fabric. She turned to him with a grave look, "I used my magic on him, used him, and said terrible things like reasons why we couldn't be together. Andraste's pyre, he was thinking about marriage and I told him he didn't have the means to support me in any sense of the meaning! I ruined it… I ruined everything with those few words and lying to him."

"Ryker ruined it. Doesn't he know what you've been through? At what point going down the long list of transgressions against you does he stop and say, 'fuck, you know, I'm being an arsehole?' He's being selfish, E. He doesn't deserve you if he can't put aside his pride for your sake." Sorin was being protective, and she loved him for it, especially since the thought had crossed her mind before. She also knew he was seeing their relationship through a very narrow window.

Letting go of her tension, to ease his knowing they needed to leave, she simply squeezed his shoulder, "You look handsome by the way." Sorin looked dashing in his new tailored waistcoat and jacket for the dinner. Though the colors were dark, the velvety sheen added highlights to his toned lithe muscles.

"I don't think I've ever owned anything this fine, " he smoothed a hand down his sleeve. "At least I'll look like I fit in."

"That's why I asked for you tonight, I'll need my rock." He keeps her grounded amidst the sea of gossiping nobles. She was to be the Inquisitor tonight, someone the noble guests of Skyhold were dying to see. Between the crowd, politics, and gossip she was to deal with, she feared another meltdown in her state.

Her longtime companion was a calming presence and knew how to wrangle her rage, "I'm not afraid to ruffle some noble feathers if I have to if they decide to be dicks, seeing as I'm not one of them."

"Just don't do anything to make Josie mad, I've caused her enough trouble as is," her usual inner fire was low and somber despite her bleeding mana. "I just may need some help when asked about… Ryker. I trust you more than anyone to answer calmly."

"I get it. Short, plain answers."

"And no cursing."

He sighed, "Damn."

She laughed lightly, "That's it, get it all out now." She hooked arms with him, "And don't do that thing where you only give 'yes' or 'no' as an answer. I'm in no condition to save you from the big brawny Fereldens if you anger them." 

Making their way down through the guest wing and into the garden, they took the long way to the front doors of the Great Hall. Josephine wanted a grand entrance for her and as such, she had to cross most of Skyhold to do it. Once they made it up the steep staircase, her soldiers opened the doors and everyone stood. Looking straight ahead, the only man she was interested in greeting was the Arl, as she scanned the crowd towards the head of her table.

Reaching the end of the Hall, Josephine commenced the dinner, taking over Evelyn's job of officially welcoming their guest. She stood beside the Ambassador as she explained that the Inquisitor could not over-tax her lungs, so the honor of welcoming the Arl fell to her. It was all ceremonially done, and upon her conclusion, Evelyn was at least "allowed" to motion for everyone to sit. Sorin pulled her chair out for her, as she took his hand to sit. He may not be nobility, but he had been around them enough to know the basics of etiquette. His seat was beside hers to the left tonight, as was the Ambassador then Commander. Leliana was seated down next to the Arl's guest since they both hailed from Orlais.

With everyone settled, she lifted a hand to her escort, "May I introduce my former apprentice and good friend, Knight-Enchanter Sorin Cyrus," the mage bowed slightly to the Arl and then to his lady.

"Pleasure, Knight-Enchanter." He had eyed their arm holding with scrutiny that she didn't appreciate when they had arrived. Why every man on her arm was always assumed to be a partner in some capacity amazed her even among the nobility. "Allow me to introduce Isolde, my late brother's widow."

The blonde Orlesian bowed her head slightly to her. Though aged, she was still quite a beauty with her large brown eyes and full lips that distracted away from the light wrinkles by her eyes. "Inquisitor, it is a pleasure. I'm surprised to see a man on your arm so soon after dispatching the last one. And a student of yours, no less." Her accent made it difficult to ascertain if it was an honest question or one of those passive-aggressive jabs the nobility honed as a weapon.

Evelyn's cold eyes shifted to Josephine who had already taken a breath in preparation for a quick retort, "The Knight-Enchanter is simply a close friend and ally. His mother was Ferelden born, and we thought you'd like to meet our Inquisitor's closest Ferelden companion." The two guests shared a look, the fairer one innocently rolling her eyes away. Evelyn fought the urge not to punch her in her pretty mouth, but a light squeeze from Sorin reigned in her death stare.

Teagan, watching the Herald all but snarl at his "guest," to which Evelyn said nothing, replied, "Of course," he continued changing the subject ever so eloquently, "I trust you are on the mend, Inquisitor?"

"I am, by the grace of Andraste."

"It's a shame to hear the news coming out of Adamant Fortress, I know the king is very eager to know what you plan to do?" She was surprised how quickly he dove into politics, having only just sat down.

"I plan to stop Corypheus from spawning a demon army that would overrun the South, Arl." Her tone was serious and determined.

"And what of the fate of the Wardens?"

"I am… unsure yet." That did not sit well with the Arl, who lowered a frown at her. "I hope to spare those that I can, but until we arrive and assess the situation, I cannot rightfully say." The man seemed to relax at that, "Please tell King Alistair and Queen Elissa, that I understand the importance of preserving the Grey Wardens. Some of us have not forgotten their heroism during the Fifth Blight. In fact, I plan to assault the fortress with two senior Wardens by my side, Warden Stroud and Warden Blackwall. I hope their presence will temper the Warden's fervor."

Teagan sat back looking visably reassured, "That will indeed ease their majesty's concern. The Wardens are every bit needed in peace as they are during Blights. It amazes me that some people have forgotten so quickly their sacrifice during the Fifth Blight. I am glad to hear you are not one of them, Your Worship." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cullen tense at its mention again.

"Agreed," she raised her glass clanking it with him solidifying their shared point. "Since we are talking business, I hear you have a mine you're willing to let the Inquisition use?"

After finishing his sip, he spoke to all of the advisory staff, "Yes, the only problem is that it is overrun by a band of renegades. They have caused no small amount of trouble in Redcliffe."

The Inquisitor shot a look over to the two advisors seated next to Sorin, "We will of course send aid, but might I inquire as to why our soldiers are required? What of the Knights of Redcliffe or Denerim's army?"

The Arl's lips smirked with a low chuckle, "Forgive me, Your Worship, your reputation proceeds you. I was warned that you were rather direct in your questioning."

"It's an innocent enough question, my Lord. Unless the answer is less so?"

"No, it's simply that with the Mage Rebellion making Ferelden its battleground, our forces are spread thin trying to keep innocents safe."

She didn't break her hard stare from him, "Commander, do you agree with that?" Before he could answer the Arl began to protest, but she cut him off, "Arl Teagan, I have a major offensive in the near future, in which the bulk of our forces will be needed. We are marching into Orlais, with the only aid from the Emperor being supplies. If I am to lend you men, I want to know if it is completely necessary. Our soldiers will not be used like a band of mercenaries by either country." Josephine looked as though she was ready to interrupt, but a quick sharp glance to her quelled her eagerness.

The graying man leaned on an elbow closer to her, a scowl creasing his features. Despite this, she didn't soften her demeanor, as his warm breath grazed her cheek smelling like fine wine, "In the wake of your placement of Emperor Gaspard on the throne, we've had to increase our military presence at the border." Evelyn looked to the Commander who had heard and gave a nod confirming his words, "Not to mention, we have the Inquisition on our doorstep with a growing army in a position to invade."

It was her turn to return the glare, though hers was a bit more refined, "Our mission is to bring Corypheus to justice for the death of Divine Justina and all those who died at the Conclave and for tearing a hole in the sky. Now, he threatens everyone by trying to weaken the South, as demonstrated at the peace talks when Celene's cousin stabbed her in his name." He was right, she was direct, but she believed it was for the best as not to be misunderstood on important matters, "As I am the only one who can seal rifts, I have used the Inquisition's resources to help stabilize regions across Thedas so we may strengthen the Veil by closing the rifts. As it happens, we have also been carrying such responsibilities out without Ferelden's aid aside from the nod that we could do so."

"That all sounds very noble, but what of the Inquisition when this is all done?"

"Then we disband."

"And you? Don't tell me you retire to a life of domesticity after amassing such wealth and power?"

She leaned even closer garnering a look from Isolde, her mana beginning to glow in her veins and ignite in her eyes, "You want the truth?" His eyes narrowed further on her, "I will most likely be dead, by my blessed mark by the end. A lot of good this wealth and power will do me then." She sat back taking a sip of her wine eyeing everyone with her mark placed in plain view. Their guests studied it, watching how the green when between pulses turned the veins of her hand black. The skin around it was irritated almost as if she had a rash or had been burned. Sorin's hardened glare was electrified by the omission as his hand flexed. The advisors all held an intense but neutral stare as their Inquisitor bore down on their guest. "Whatever the fate of the Inquisition, perhaps it's better I be by the Maker's side as I watch it be torn down by the likes of people such as yourself; those who fear what they do not understand, people, as a mage, I understand all too well. The only thing you need to comprehend is that everyone who calls Skyhold their home is fighting for all of Thedas, risking their lives, while you sneer and scheme against them." She turned to cough lightly into her linen napkin. Sorin placed a hand on her, and after placing the linen back on her lap, she met his eyes with a sigh. His subtle expression of concern forced her to back down.

Trying to bring back the palpable tension of the conversation, Josephine spoke up, "We are under the jurisdiction of The Divine. With her absence and until a new Divine is chosen, we operate under the laws set forth under her directive, sanctioned by Her Left and Right Hands. Ultimately, it will be up to the new Divine what happens to the Inquisition's resources once we complete our mission."

"So long as that is the plan, the king and queen will have no reason to take action."

"If I may," Leliana's lilt floated across the table, "if you recall, my Lord, I was with the two of them through the Fifth Blight, including the Battle of Denerim. I still correspond with Elissa, for she is a dear friend. As such, as you can imagine, we trade favors occasionally. If you fear our military strength, perhaps you should voice your concerns to your queen." The Spymaster's steely eyes sparkled with an edge despite her pleasant tone, "Unless the problem is that you have and you simply do not take her for her word? That doesn't sound like that is our failing, but yours if you do not trust the word of Andraste's Herald and that of your queen's."

"I'm quite aware of the nature of your relationship with our queen, as well as my nephew, though as to why they place such trust in your word, that of a former bard and current Spymaster, I will never know." He turned back to Evelyn looking tired of the arguing, "I apologize to you, Your Worship, if I gave offense, but as you are protective of the Inquisition, I am of Ferelden."

"Our Commander here is a born and raised Ferelden, as are many of our soldiers. I don't think they would take kindly if I decided to attack their home," she quickly added as their food had arrived being placed in front of them.

When the servants left, he continued, "Well, at least you had the good sense to recruit a Ferelden over an Orlesian." She expected a retort from Isolde, but she simply ignored it, unlike Leliana who blinked slowly at him a few times.

"That was hardly the reason, it was his extensive military experience that made Divine Justina appointed him." Evelyn stole a glance up at Cullen, who looked thoroughly uncomfortable knowing where the conversation was headed. Knowing he hated having to defend his commoner background to nobility, she changed the subject, "I suppose it's safe to assume then that you wouldn't mind meeting with the Commander to discuss plans to clear the mine before we depart for the Western Approach?"

"Not at all."

"Very good, the Ambassador here will set up the meeting. Now, if we're done with politics and business for the evening, shall we speak of something cheerier?" She peeked around him to Isolde, wanting nothing more to do but sit and eat while the others spoke, "How is Lord Connor's training coming along?"

*** 

Later in the evening, after all the scheduled festivities of the night concluded, despite Sorin's best efforts, her injury finally caught up with her. She walked briskly away from the table before her coughing fit started, holding it entirely until she closed the door to her stairwell. Grabbing the railing she coughed for a solid few minutes and bent over until she was out of breath. Her chest hurt with each contraction of her lungs as she bent over hanging her head.

As she recovered, she couldn't help but hear an argument right outside her door. When it opened, she was surprised to hear a Ferelden intonation despite being inundated with them. "Inquisitor, are you alright? You looked distressed?" Why was it Cullen who always caught her at her worst moments? The man had a sixth sense for it. Now the arguing she heard made sense, for Sorin must've had words with him.

She coughed again and cleared her dry burning throat, "Fine, just trying to clear these bloody cobwebs from my lungs." Her ailment was a constant reminder of him - of Ryker. Everything she did of late was to clean up from the wreckage he caused while at Skyhold. Now she couldn't even be in the company of a friend without people assuming she was courting them. The frustration of it all hit her then, "Ryker is dead and somehow he's still managing to ruin everything - to ruin me and the Inquisition." Cullen's face softened, "How am I supposed to fight at Adamant like this? I can hardly make it through one dinner!" The end of her words were choked off by another cough. She rubbed her forehead beside herself, "He's never going to leave me in peace, he'll always be right here, in my head! I need something… I need more wine-- no, whiskey."

As she went to step past him, he halted her with a gentle hand around her waist. The simple touch, though meant for another purpose, made her knees weak as it glided across the middle of her soft dress, "No, I won't watch you drink yourself into a stupor over that man any longer." His face was stern, looking directly into her eyes, but his voice was all but a whisper, "Talk to me."

"A few days ago, you lacked any form of hope in resuming anything outside of a working relationship," she glared at him still angry over what was said, but the resolve in his amber orbs did not waver. She scoffed, "You're serious? After everything, you think we can?" She was shocked by his suggestion. Drinking may work for her brother, but it only served to make her numb, not resolve anything. The past months of just surviving Ryker had made her want for drink get out of hand. By midday, she usually had a bottle put away already after spending the morning listening to her mother and abuser scheme about wedding plans. Apparently, it didn't go unnoticed.

"We were friends once, and even before that two strangers in need of unburdening our minds. We... could try again? Talking, that is, nothing more." There was a hidden pain in his voice that threatened to shatter her heart - if there was anything left to break. The notion that he was willing to try and work past things gave her a spark of hope.

Letting go of her frustration and stubbornness, she tightly shut her eyes trying to shake her own hurt and depression, "I do need clarity and to face it, I suppose." She didn't want to seem too eager. "We are running out of time before we leave for Adamant. May I impose upon you as soon as two evenings from now? Truth be told, I'm not doing well, but I need at least a day to sort through my own thoughts before putting them into words." Her eyes drifted to the floor hating to show such weakness. Broken, battered, and somehow still standing, of her own accord, a single tear of self-pity rolled down her cheek.

Cullen's hand moved reflexively to wipe it, but he stopped short, squeezing it into a fist. With her eyes still cast downwards, she pretended she didn't notice and wiped it herself. "I-it's not too soon, you know where to find me."

A small smile tugged at her mouth as she sniffled, "Do you still like those spiced cookies, you know the hard ones that need a good dip in hot cider or they'll break a tooth?"

He shook his head at her, with a huff of an indignant laugh, "We haven't talked in months, not years. Not that much has changed."

She sighed heavily, partly mumbling, "Seems like years…" Before her mind tried to lose her memories, she blinked a few times shaking herself back to the present, "Anyway, I'll bring some. I fear it's going to take some time to sort through this mess."

"Good thing I don't sleep," he gave a half-hearted smile.

"E," Sorin popped his head in, "the Arl is retiring and wished to personally convey his thanks." He eyed the two of them in a way that she'd expect from her mother.

"Alright, if I must. Just means I can avoid them all day tomorrow before they leave." Without another word they headed back into the Great Hall to conclude her duties for the night, already feeling a bit lighter having made one step closer to repairing the gap between them.

***

Evelyn woke up in a cold sweat. She was meeting with Cullen tonight to talk, but Maker where was she to start? What did she still wish to keep to herself? There were things she knew that would affect him, like that she almost slept with Ryker to prevent him from dosing him with red lyrium. Looking out her stained-glass windows, the first light was hidden behind the Frostbacks casting a hazy halo around the silhouettes. She placed her hands on her face groaning as to why she agreed to speak with him. Did she need to? Yes. Did she want to? Maybe. Did she want to see him? Yes. If she was going through with it she needed a plan.

Rolling out of bed, she resumed her daily routine, but as she finished her run making her way to the training grounds outside the walls, she noticed someone had beaten her there. Standing frozen despite her heavy panting that rose like smoke from a dragon, she observed the form as he worked through footwork drills. Having not seen her yet, she debated turning and running, but she had a cramp in her side and he was far too smart to not question the sudden change in her routine after all this time. Looking up to the Maker for strength, she let out a deep breath and made her way over to the practice armor and weapons her valet had readied for her - another reason she could not flee.

Ignoring each other while she outfitted herself, she walked over to the furthest training dummy from him to practice her spells. A 'good morning' was had in passing dispelling some of the tension but nothing more. It was an odd situation that he had created by being here so early. It was neither a recreational nor formal work environment, and suddenly it was as if she had forgotten how to act. She felt self-conscious like he was scrutinizing her every move. Why was he here? Was it because they would be resuming their therapy sessions? What was his game? He knew she was always here at this time. Running a hand through her damp hair hoping it looked-- No, Trevelyan. None of that. Her hand dropped awkwardly from her hair but not before pulling a piece from her messy ponytail with a few scattered braids. Ah, fuck it.

The Knight-Enchanter was not at the training grounds at the crack of dawn to make eyes at boys, she was there to increase her stamina for battle. With his presence serving as a moderate distraction and growing annoyance as she focused on calling forth her mana, she quickly began to draw too much of it. As her magic burned, bordering on excessive for training purposes, she looked at the target that was enchanted to absorb spells and fired off a stream of volcanic fire that not only overpowered the enchantment but killed the poor dummy. As the stuffed soldier has been reduced to nothing but ash, the pyromancer winced at her blunder.

"Inquisitor?"

"Ah!" Evelyn jumped having heard his voice only a few feet away from her. She sighed, "Sorry, I, um-- I guess they didn't enchant that dummy." Glancing without moving her head to the side, she saw the glowing rune resurface from beneath the ashes as a gust of wind kicked up. As her eyes shot back over, his eyes narrowed on her, clearly having seen it as well.

"You do know I inspect these dummies myself ever since Sera put bees in them?" As she tried to come up with a suitable response, his stern expression turned to one of slight bewilderment as his eyes flicked over to the strand of hair she had pulled into disarray. With a pout, she fade-stepped into the tree line, fixed her hair, then reappeared before him with a frown as if it never happened.

Having picked up the rune on her way back to him, she shoved it into his grasp, "Well, then get stronger enchantments, Commander." Her haughty attitude was all bluster, as he debated a retort, but having used his title to make it an official sort of conversation, all he could reply was 'Yes, Inquisitor.' Thoroughly thrown off, she was about to retreat again when a gaggle of recruits came trudging down to their location led by one of his Lieutenants. Both turned to face the crowd now blocking her path back to Skyhold as the reason for him being here stood plain as day before her.

Shifting her weight and chastising herself for believing Cullen had been because of her, she swallowed her pride, commenting flatly, "Apologies for encroaching upon your training time, Commander, and for making you short one training dummy." Striding away, she felt the ghost of his warm hand in passing as if he reached out for her, but she jerked it forward in step with her brisk strides. Donning the mask of the Inquisitor, she smiled to the soldiers in passing, lost in thought. He wouldn't have reached for her, who was she kidding? It was just another trick her mind was playing on her. How delusional she had been. Forgetting the rest of her routine, she needed to think quietly about their talk later.