I. High Society
Cassandra lay on her side, head propped up on her hand, watching the Inquisitor sleep.
Everly was stretched out on her stomach, face buried into the pillow, hair splayed across her forehead. Her full lips were parted ever so slightly but a slight crease worried her brow, as if she were struggling to write a particularly tricky piece of correspondence. The furs were pushed down by her waist, revealing the expanse of her back, along with the soulmark that ran diagonally from her left shoulder to her right hip. Cassandra’s thumb brushed Everly brows, smoothing out the crease, then continued down to trace the name etched into Everly’s skin. Her name.
Three months had passed since the Winter Ball and the revelation of Everly’s secret. The days had flown by in a fog of disbelief and wonder. That the Maker had actually blessed Cassandra with a soulmark was unfathomable, let alone the fact that the person who bore her name had practically fallen into her lap. That they were the Herald of Andraste herself, tasked with defeating Corypheus and bringing order to all of Southern Thedas was even more remarkable. Laughable, even. The angry, sullen girl growing up in the Grand Necropolis would never have believed it.
And yet.
Cassandra’s hand glided over her name, feeling the slightly raised skin underneath her fingertips, followed by a whisper of magic that tugged her closer to Everly’s body. It was subtle, but unmistakable. The sensation had plagued her ever since she’d first laid eyes on Everly, only strengthening over time and drawing them into each other’s orbit until Cassandra was quite sure she was going mad. Everly’s confession that she’d felt--and still feels--the same warm, pulling feeling relieved her more than finding out about Everly’s mark.
Everly stirred, long eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. A single eye cracked open, then promptly fell shut again.
“‘Ello.” Everly’s greeting was muffled by the pillow.
“Good morning.” Cassandra continued tracing the pattern over Everly’s shoulder blade, earning a lazy smile. Eyes still closed, Everly inhaled deeply and slid closer, tucking herself into Cassandra’s chest.
“Will you stay?” Everly muttered.
The morning sun was just beginning to crest the peaks of the Frostbacks. Cassandra dropped a kiss onto Everly’s shoulder blade. “For a little longer.”
“Only a little longer? Surely the practice dummies aren’t mounting an escape.”
“And neither are the nobles that took up residence in the great hall, who take far too much interest in who comes and goes from the Inquisitor’s quarters.”
A discontented grumble rumbled through Everly. “I don’t care about any of that.”
“I know.” Cassandra peeled Everly’s face away from her chest, tilting her chin upwards. Grey eyes stared back at her, glassy with sleep. Cassandra traced the curve of Everly’s jaw with her thumb. “But others do. We must keep up appearances for now.”
Everly’s face twisted into something between a pout and a scowl. “Fine.” She latched onto Cassandra with her left arm and hooked her heel around the back of Cassandra’s calf. The warmth of the Anchor pressed into the small of Cassandra’s back, keeping her in place. “Just a little longer.”
Cassandra chuckled. She lowered her head to the pillow and wrapped Everly in both arms. Soon her eyelids felt dangerously heavy and she fought to keep them open, reminding herself about the nobles who would surely be titillated by the sight of the Seeker emerging from the Inquisitor’s quarters mid-morning. Still, there was no harm in indulging for a few moments.
Her hand returned to Everly’s mark, repeating the familiar pattern. A small twinge of melancholy curled into her chest. While she loved that Everly was so visibly claimed, it bothered her that she could not offer the same.
A soft knock came from the entrance, followed by the door opening. Cassandra inhaled sharply. Everly’s head snapped up. The visitor didn’t wait for permission or acknowledgment and began ascending the stairs at a hurried pace.
“Inquisitor?” Josephine’s lilting voice carried into the room, sounding more strained than usual.
Everly cleared her throat. “Yes?”
“Is Cassandra with you?”
They froze. Of the Inner Circle, only Josephine and Leliana knew of their relationship, and that was mostly due to their combined powers of observation. Still, it was unlike Josephine to barge in unannounced with such a bold presumption. They were also stark naked.
Everly’s reply wavered. “She is.”
“Good.” Josephine appeared at the top of the stairs, looking as harried as Cassandra had ever seen her--which for the ambassador only amounted to a few loose wisps of dark hair falling from her bun and one slightly askew ruffle on her left sleeve. By Josephine’s standards, she might as well have been dragged through the bogs of the Fallow Mire and back. “You have a visitor. Both of you.”
Everly rolled off Cassandra and yanked the bearskin over her head. “The Inquisitor doesn’t accept unscheduled arrivals before midday.”
As charming as Everly’s penchant for dramatics was, Josephine’s tone and demeanor made Cassandra take notice. She popped up to her elbow, drawing the furs across her chest, and looked directly at Josephine. “What do you mean?”
Josephine bustled about the foot of the bed, scooping up articles of clothing. “Your uncle is here.”
“My uncle??” Cassandra shot up, eyes wide. The fur fell to her waist, the attempt at modesty forgotten. Josephine politely averted her eyes as she picked up Cassandra’s pants.
“Yes.”
“Uncle Vestalus? He’s here? Now?”
“Unless you have another uncle that I’m unaware of, who also happens to be a Mortalitasi that travels in a coach drawn by horse skeletons.” Josephine dumped Cassandra’s clothes onto the bed. “He respectfully requests your presence at breakfast. I suggest grabbing your breastplate as well; the high collar will cover up that bite mark on your neck.”
Josephine’s words hardly registered, and Cassandra couldn’t bring herself to be offended. Her heart banged against her ribs and a nervousness she hadn’t felt in years seeped into her chest.
The last time she’d seen Vestalus was at Divine Justinia’s inauguration after she’d renewed her vows as the Right Hand. The conversation, like usual, had been brief: the exchange of pleasantries and his congratulations on becoming the longest-tenured Hand in recent memory. Cassandra accepted his words with a polite bow, ignoring the two skeletons Vestalus had in tow, and that was the end of it. They hadn’t spoken since. As far as she knew, he remained at the Grand Necropolis, more happy to care for the dead than the living. What could possibly be important enough to draw him out from the crypts and bring him to Skyhold?
Cassandra looked over at Everly, whose head was now poking out of the furs, eyeing Josephine warily.
“Did you…did you say ‘horse skeletons’”?
“Yes. Plus at least a dozen human skeletons, two corpses, and a young apprentice. Andreas, I believe his name is.” Josephine rummaged through the Inquisitor’s wardrobe and threw a suit onto the bed. “Dress blues, please.”
“Corpses? Like in coffins?” The color was draining from Everly’s face.
“No. They’re possessed, it appears. They make the most dreadful moans if I’m being honest.” Josephine appraised them both. “I’d hurry if I were you. Your uncle is surely going to tire of Dorian pestering him.” She disappeared down the stairs, muttering to herself.
The wind changed, turning into a sudden, low moan. A cool gust swept through the open balcony door, and Cassandra rose to latch it shut. Any lingering warmth from their bed faded quickly. When she turned, she found Everly standing with her back to her, pulling on her clothes.
“Any idea what this is about?” Everly asked over her shoulder.
Cassandra watched the tunic slip over Everly’s head and fall down her back, concealing the soulmark.
“No,” she said.
***
Everly hustled through the main hall with Cassandra hot on her heels, ignoring the curious stares of a group of nobles and their various hangers-on that were already gossiping near the fireplace. The sight of the Seeker stomping through the hall wearing an aggrieved look on her face was hardly new, but the Inquisitor following in a proper suit at this hour was rare enough to draw attention. She made out a snippet of the group’s conversation as she passed. Vestalus’s arrival caused a stir throughout Skyhold. Not that Everly could blame anyone; showing up with an entourage that included horse skeletons and ambulatory corpses would be, to put it mildly, disconcerting. She tried to recall every piece of information she could about the Mortalitasi and Vestalus in particular, setting aside the fact that none of her advisors thought to bring up pertinent specifics like fucking horse skeletons.
Cassandra had mentioned her uncle only once, maybe twice. From what Everly gathered, he was a cold and distant man who became even more so after he was named prelate, often leaving Cassandra and her brother to fend for themselves in the Grand Necropolis. Everly held back a shudder. Cassandra never spoke about what it was like to grow up in a mausoleum, and Everly didn’t press for details. Instead she went to her ambassador, who provided an overview of death mages and their practice in a chipper tone that didn’t suit the morbid subject matter. She couldn’t imagine being a child in the world Josephine had described. Everly herself had trouble sleeping for days afterward; no wonder Cassandra was loath to discuss it.
Everly reached the door to the smaller banquet room off the main hall used for private meals. She stopped, hand in midair, and Cassandra nearly plowed into her. When Everly turned Cassandra’s face was flushed and her fingers were twitching, as if trying to grasp her sword. Everly brushed her knuckles against the back of Cassandra’s hand.
“Cass?”
Cassandra jumped slightly and looked down. She gave Everly’s hand a quick squeeze and set her shoulders. “Let’s get this over with.”
Everly pushed open the door.
The table was one of the more modest pieces of furniture in Skyhold, meant to only seat six. A generous breakfast spread was laid out, full of sweet bread, hard cheeses, fruit, and smoked meat and fish. Two steaming pots of tea sat at either end of the table, waiting with four place settings. A thin man with a heavy-set brow, pointed nose, and a sharply manicured goatee sat at the head of the table, facing the door. His hand moved in a lazy circle above his mug, where a tiny wisp curled around the spoon stirring the tea. At the man’s right was another individual, much younger yet more sallow-looking, with yellow skin and sunken cheekbones. Stringy blonde hair fell onto his forehead and a pair of pale eyes bored into Everly. The younger man was so unsettling that Everly didn’t notice the skeleton shuffling along the table, methodically placing servings of food on a plate held in its right hand. Everly blinked twice. Cassandra didn’t appear bothered by the sight.
The man rose from his seat and bowed. His companion hesitated, then followed suit. “Greetings, Inquisitor. I am Vestalus Pentaghast. I apologize for the unannounced arrival, especially at this early hour.”
Everly offered the same greeting, but didn’t bother to hide her annoyance at being pulled out of bed. “We are honored to receive you, Prelate. I only wish we knew of your arrival sooner. We would’ve prepared a proper reception.”
Vestalus inclined his head and paused. His severe features bore a passing resemblance to Cassandra, but there was no evidence of the amusement Everly was often able to find behind the Seeker’s dark eyes.
“You will forgive our intrusion. It has been many years since I’ve traveled outside of Nevarra. Rest assured, my disruption is warranted.” He folded his hands inside his robe and turned to Cassandra. “It is good to see you, Seeker. You look well.”
“As do you. Prelate.” Cassandra sat down and pulled the nearest plate of fruit pastries toward her. Vestalus’s brow quirked. Everly gestured for all of them to sit, taking the open seat next to Cassandra. The skeleton placed a full plate of food in front of Vestalus, then hurried over to the Inquisitor, lowering its head and staring expectantly through its empty eye holes.
“Um, no thank you,” Everly said. The skeleton looked at Cassandra. She waved him off with an irritated huff and it scurried away, bones rattling.
Vestalus’s companion leaned over and spoke with unconcealed disdain. “This is her?” He peered out from under his bangs.
Everly wasn’t sure if he meant Cassandra or herself, but either way, her irritation spiked. The Anchor sparked against the table surface as she met his glare. “Excuse me?”
Cassandra’s head snapped up. “You will address the Herald of Andraste with the respect afforded by her title, or you will leave.”
Vestalus shot a stern look at his companion, who promptly withered under the scrutiny. He gestured with his hand, and the skeleton hurried over to place more food on the younger man's plate and give it a pointed shove in his direction. Everly swore the skeleton looked as annoyed as Vestalus. Chastened, the young man bowed his head and picked at his fruit.
“I beg your indulgence, Inquisitor,” Vestalus said. “This is my apprentice, Andreas. He is tired from our travels and meant no offense. It is an honor to be in the presence of the Herald herself. The exploits of the Inquisition are known throughout all of Thedas.”
“I’m surprised any news of the outside world got through the Necropolis.” Cassandra devoured a blueberry pastry in two bites and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. The chill between her and Vestalus was enough to send a shiver down Everly’s spine.
“I am not as insulated from current events as you would think.”
“I doubt that.”
Vestalus leaned forward and folded his slender fingers on the table. Everly’s eyes flicked from Cassandra to Vestalus, wondering if she should just excuse herself and leave the two of them to work through their obvious tension. The ball at Halamshiral had been less awkward.
“Cassandra, I know we have not spoken in some time, and I accept my part in that. I was not as approachable as I could have been when you were younger. But I bear you no ill will, and I would not have come if there weren’t matters of importance to discuss.”
Cassandra huffed. She looked away for a moment, then back at her uncle. “Go on, then.”
“Should I leave you two alone?” Everly asked. She glanced at Andreas, who was sullenly pushing the food around on his plate and ignoring the conversation. It was rare for Everly to immediately dislike someone, but Andreas was making himself an exception rather swiftly.
“Please stay. This involves you as well.” Vestalus paused. His cold facade slipped briefly and a sad, fleeting smile crossed his face. “I have wondered about you for many years now.”
Everly’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but before she could say anything Cassandra jumped in with a terse response.
“Speak plainly.”
“It would be foolish not to take note of the name you were marked with, would it not?”
Cassandra inhaled sharply. Everly looked from Vestalus to Cassandra, then back to Vestalus again. Her mouth dropped open when the realization hit her.
“You’re the one who removed her mark?” Everly asked. Beside her, the leathers of Cassandra’s armor creaked as her fingers dug into the crook of her elbow. A familiar muscle in her jaw started twitching dangerously.
Vestulas nodded, speaking to Everly. “Cassandra’s father brought her to me just days after she was born. Your name, of course, was not of Nevarra’s noble houses. At his request, I removed it.”
His explanation was so simple, so matter-of-fact, that Everly found herself agreeing with Nevarra’s straightforward approach, despite the possibility that she and Cassandra would never have found each other. Cassandra, however, clearly disagreed.
“You had no right,” she seethed.
“I most certainly did.” Vestalus sat back, crossing one leg over the other and steepling his fingers. He eyed them as if giving a lecture to a pair of unruly students. Andreas finally raised his head and stared at his mentor, enrapt. “This has been the course since the first soulmark appeared ages ago. You know that as well as I do. And to be frank, had I not done so, you would have been killed along with your parents.”
The Anchor flared without warning and Everly clenched her hand into a fist. “Why?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her despite Cassandra’s boiling temper.
Vestalus inclined his head as if approving of Everly’s question. “I don’t know how familiar you are with Nevarran history, but there have been two failed attempts to overthrow King Markus. After each, all dissenters were summarily rounded up and executed. He only spared Cassandra and her brother’s life because they were children, however, he would never have allowed someone with a soulmark outside of the noble houses to live. It’s dangerous and unpredictable. People are easier to control when their soulmates are of the same stature.”
Cassandra scoffed. “I was an infant. Hardly a threat to King Markus’s succession.”
“I didn’t mean you.” Vestalus’s steady gaze swept from Cassandra to Everly. “If I may speak bluntly, Inquisitor, your family is of lesser birth, from outside Nevarra. No one would take the chance on the possibility of an interloper marrying into the royal house.”
Andreas’s burning eyes fixated on Everly. “Bloodlines must be preserved.” His voice was almost a hiss. Everly ignored him.
“You cannot ignore the will of the Maker,” Cassandra snapped.
Vestalus pursed his lips. “The Maker has nothing to do with it. The Pentaghast’s royal lineage has remained unbroken since the Glory Age.” He paused, eyes cold, then waved a hand at their surroundings. “And as it turns out, that concern was warranted. The Inquisitor and Herald of Andraste has more than enough political influence and wealth to not only marry into the family, but make a play for the throne. Markus is frail. He has no heirs. Multiple factions are vying to replace him. A singular individual could easily outmaneuver all of them.”
“Hence the reason for the visit.” Everly glanced over at Cassandra. Her obvious anger had mellowed somewhat but Everly could tell she was still aggravated by the entire situation--not that she could blame her. She resisted the urge to place her hand on Cassandra’s thigh. Such a gesture, even as subtle as it may be, was still too public a display.
Vestalus nodded, the same vaguely pleased expression crossing his face once more. “Yes. As the Inquisition's influence grew, so did my concern.”
“Prelate, I can assure you I have no interest in the Nevarran throne. I have plenty of other things to worry about.”
“True, but what will happen when you defeat Corypheus? Can you guarantee your feelings on the matter will not change?”
Everly placed both palms on the table for emphasis. “I’d rather throw myself off Skyhold’s tower.”
Vestalus coughed, his gaze drawn momentarily drawn to the glow of the Anchor. “Well.” He straightened in his seat. “I see you two are well-matched. My niece has made her disdain for all things royal known on many occasions.”
“I’m glad we understand each other. Please take my words in the spirit in which they are given: I truly will not interfere with the Nevarran royal houses.”
“Unfortunately, it is not me you will have to convince, should this rear its head. I only hold so much sway with the king. There are other Mortalitasi who have his ear.” Vestalus’s voice lowered to a grumble. He flicked his wrist irritably and the skeleton trotted over to refill his tea. Everly noted his annoyance when mentioning King Markus, and quietly filed away. She smiled to herself. The family resemblance was clearer when they were both mad.
“Does anyone else know about Cassandra’s mark?” Everly asked.
Vestalus sipped his tea. “With Cassandra’s immediate family all dead, I am the only one who knows, in addition to Andreas here. There is no record of it at all, nor of the ritual I performed. The only way this information could be known is if someone discovers your mark, Inquisitor.”
Cassandra interjected. “We haven’t told anyone. Our relationship is our own business.”
“The Inquisition’s ambassador and seneschal are aware of my mark,” Everly corrected gently. “That is all. I trust them both with my life.”
“And your family?”
Everly’s face became hot. “My father died a few months ago. Both my brothers and my sister-in-law know about it.”
“Where are they?”
“Robb and Siobhan are at our family’s estate in Ostwick. Brayden is a templar. I haven’t heard anything from him in some time.” Everly rubbed her hands together, the Anchor pulsing underneath her skin. “They won’t speak of it. I’m sure.”
“I’m glad you are confident in that, as much would be at stake. Markus, it pains me to say, is surrounded by brain-dead sycophants and conniving leeches using him for their own ends. At the very least, the Inquisition’s relationship with Nevarra would be irrevocably damaged. At worst, they would actively conspire against you and your family.” Vestalus paused, perhaps considering the weight of what he was suggesting. “Of course, if no one finds out, then there shouldn’t be an issue.”
Dread settled in Everly’s stomach. She’d been so thrilled to finally solve the mystery of her mark that she hadn’t considered the possible threat to Robb, Siobhan, and their little son. She wondered about the possibility of sending a small contingent of soldiers to watch over the estate. It would probably bother Robb to no end, but she’d take his griping if it meant they’d be safe.
Cassandra’s hand slid over her shoulder and Everly twitched at the unexpected contact. “We’ll speak to Leiliana,” she said in a low, reassuring tone, as if she’d just read Everly’s mind. The restrained gesture grounded her, halting the new tension working its way up her back.
“I hope now you understand why I came here. This matter was too sensitive not to discuss in person.”
Cassandra pulled her hand away. “Won’t someone notice that you’ve gone? This must be the first time you’ve been outside the Necropolis in years.”
Vestalus appeared to flinch slightly at the accusation. A quick pang of sympathy hit Everly in the chest, although it dissipated when she realized that Andreas was still staring at her with a strange gleam in his eye. Clearly, Vestalus trusted him, but something about the young man’s presence made her skin crawl.
“I think a short visit to check on the well-being of my closest living relative can be easily explained.” Vestalus’s hand fell to his teacup, giving it a lazy swirl. His voice softened. “I have thought of writing you, many times, but I wasn’t sure what comfort my words would bring. Or if they’d be welcome.”
Cassandra was silent. She reached for another pastry and nibbled on the corner, avoiding her uncle’s eyes. “It would not have been un welcome.” She raised her cup, catching the attention of Vestalus’s skeleton servant. “May I have some tea, please?” The skeleton hopped into action, seemingly thrilled someone had requested its services. It was actually kind of cute.
For the first time since the conversation began, Vestalus actually brightened, perking up in his chair. A flush of color tinted his cheeks, a noticeable change from the ghostly pallor of his skin, no doubt a result of a lifetime in the bowels of the Necropolis. “Perhaps we can enjoy this meal together, then? I promise Andreas and I will not take advantage of your hospitality.”
The skeleton circled the table once more, filling all their plates, even though Everly had barely touched anything. “Stay as long as you’d like, Prelate. We have an extensive library, although Dorian would probably corner you again.”
“That young necromancer? He’s a delight. I should like to speak with him more.” Vestalus looked at Cassandra. “A moment or two with you would also be nice, Seeker.”
Everly nudged Cassandra’s leg. “Yes,” she finally responded. “I can make time for that.”
Vestalus nodded, pleased despite the non-existent enthusiasm in Cassandra’s voice. She shot a look at Everly out of the corner of her eye. Everly gave her a wink. Cassandra shook her head and went back to her plate. Grinning to herself, Everly reached for some pastry and cheese.
Andreas watched her every movement.
II. On Tilt
The morning started off dreary and wet, the first days of spring spreading a cool dampness throughout the fortress. Once the sun hit its highest point of the sky, the clouds gave way and warm sunlight burned off the moisture in the air. After her morning meetings with her advisors were finished, Everly burst through Skyhold’s main door and headed down to the training grounds, skipping over the few remaining patches of mud as she went.
Chunks of straw, burlap, and wood littered the area, and the grass had been torn up in patches. Cassandra stood in the center of the aftermath, stripped down to pants and a short sleeved tunic, gripping her practice sword with both hands. Mud caked her bootheels. Dark hazel eyes swept the training grounds. When they fell on Everly, Cassandra’s mouth twitched--the beginnings of a crooked smile that belonged to the Inquisitor only. Everly’s heart skipped. Not a single day had passed since the night at Halamshiral where she didn’t thank the Maker for bringing Cassandra to her. Considering how apathetic she was towards religion, that alone was something remarkable.
She bounded down the stairs and towards the dummy carcasses, but changed her mind when she saw the state of the pit Cassandra was standing in. Everly spun on her heel and darted up the wall of the staircase, plopping down and folding her hands in her lap.
“Seeker.” Everly bowed her head in an exaggerated display of formality. “Productive day, I see.”
Cassandra snorted. Her mouth twitched again. “You might say that.” She looked down and scraped a chunk of mud off her boot with the edge of her practice sword. With a flick of her wrist she sent the glob flying to the other side of the training area.
Everly swung her legs, heels bouncing off the ancient stone. No use in beating around the issue. Cassandra preferred it when she was straightforward. Usually.
“Have you spoken to Vestalus yet?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“I see.”
Cassandra started intensely cleaning her other boot, keeping her head downcast. Everly remained quiet and watched the overly-long process until Cassandra grew aggravated by the silence. It wouldn’t take long.
“I suppose you’re here to encourage me.” Cassandra leaned her sword against her leg and looked up at Everly, squinting in the afternoon sun.
“I came to admire your strength and precision in defeating that army of practice dummies. Surely Corypheus himself is quaking in his boots.” Everly grinned wildly. As expected, Cassandra’s face twisted into her usual scowl, but the red flush in her cheeks made it clear that Everly’s compliment did not go unnoticed.
“I suppose there’s some joke in there about Corypheus’s army being full of dummies, but I’m not clever enough to come up with it.”
“You sell yourself short, Cass.”
The blush deepened. “You’re just trying to flatter me.”
“Always.” Everly hitched a thumb over her shoulder. “Also, you should speak to your uncle. I believe he’s in the garden. With his skeleton…friend.”
Cassandra tapped her sword against her heel. “Did you know they’re wisps, actually? The skeleton is just a vessel. They were around all the time when Anthony and I were children. My favorite was called Roger.”
“Roger?”
“Oh, yes. We used to play hide and seek with him. It was terribly difficult when it was his turn to hide. There are thousands of skeletons in the Necropolis and they all look the same.”
Everly grinned. She loved when Cassandra opened up to her, revealing details of a childhood that was very different from her carefree days in Ostwick. She also loved that their dynamic hadn’t changed since discovering Everly’s mark; conversation still came easily and she was the only one--with perhaps the exception of Leliana--who understood how dryly funny Cassandra could be. However, Everly wasn’t quite so enamored that she didn’t know what Cassandra was doing.
After checking to ensure no one was in earshot, she leaned forward and said softly, “Darling, you’re stalling.”
The tapping increased. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
Cassandra grumbled and swung her sword around in front of her, hacking at the few remaining blades of grass. “I do not know what to say.”
“Perfect. He doesn’t, either.”
“You don’t understand, Everly.” Cassandra heaved a weary sigh. “I’ve seen Vestalus a mere handful of times since I left for the Seekers. We’ve spoken even less. The years…” Cassandra shook her head. “Too much time has passed. This cannot be fixed.”
“You don’t have to fix anything today. It’s just a conversation.”
Cassandra opened her mouth as if to speak, then clamped it shut. She continued hacking at the ground.
“Is he really your closest relative?” Everly asked.
“I have dozens of aunts, uncles, cousins--but yes, in terms of immediate relatives, he is the closest.”
Everly glanced away, chewing on her bottom lip. A heaviness settled over her. She’d done well at keeping the grief over her father’s death at bay and between her duties as the Inquisitor and burgeoning relationship with Cassandra, there’d been enough distraction to prevent her from wallowing. It also helped to remember that her father had been a very sick man for a very long time, and his death did not come as a surprise. However, Cassandra’s stubbornness when it came to Vestalus was starting to grate on her.
Cassandra must have sensed the change in Everly’s mood. She jammed her mud-covered blade into the soft ground and took several steps closer. When Everly looked again, Cassandra’s brow was furrowed, her dark eyes searching urgently.
“What?” she asked.
“You never know what much time you have with someone, and I don’t want you to have any regrets.” Everly raked a hand through her swept back bangs, causing several pieces to fall onto her forehead. “I’d give anything to speak to my father again.”
Cassandra covered her mouth with her hand. Surprise crossed her face, transforming almost instantly into understanding. “How thoughtless of me. I apologize.” She took another step and reached up to touch Everly’s knee. “You’re right. I should try to be grateful he is here.”
Everly squeezed Cassandra’s hand, not minding the dried mud on her gloves. “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, and I know you didn’t get along, but he seems like a decent enough man. He was concerned enough about us both to make the journey. I just think that should be acknowledged.”
Warmth seeped into Cassandra’s eyes. “You are a better person than I.”
Everly waved her away with her free hand. The weight in her chest eased with the look Cassandra was giving her. “Now who’s being a flatterer.”
Cassandra snorted and punched Everly’s thigh lightly. “I will clean myself up and go speak with him.” She set her shoulders as she spoke, as if steeling herself for battle. Everly couldn’t help but find it charming.
She hopped to her feet and brushed off her breeches. With the sun out, Skyhold’s courtyard was teeming with activity, with all manner of people hurrying about and tending to chores. In just a few short months, Skyhold now felt like a small city. No one seemed to notice or care about the Inquisitor and the Seeker sharing a moment in the corner of the training yard.
“Where are you off to?” Cassandra craned her neck back to look at Everly, now completely towering above her.
“Oh, I’m sure I’m late for something somewhere.” As Everly scanned the courtyard, another nagging feeling rose to the surface, the same she’d felt at breakfast. “Have you seen Andreas?”
“No. Why?”
Everly scrunched up her nose. “Let’s just say I don’t particularly care for him.”
“I assumed as much.” Cassandra momentarily adopted a matching look of distaste. “He’s rude and arrogant, not unlike most of my uncle’s apprentices that I recall. Most likely he’s from some distant branch of the Van Markham family. They’ve always been insufferable.”
Although Everly was pleased that they agreed on Andreas’s general distastefulness, the feeling continued gnawing at her. There was something more to him than just arrogance, but Everly couldn’t quite place it. She exhaled, still taking in the courtyard's busting energy. Restlessness built within her. “I’m going hunting.” she announced. “I’ll rustle up some grouse for dinner.”
Cassandra tensed, as she always did when Everly declared her intention to go beyond Skyhold’s walls, and bit back what Everly assumed was her usual worried lecture. “Grouse would be nice,” she said tightly.
Everly didn’t argue. “Wonderful!” She leapt off the wall and landed next to Cassandra, splattering drops of mud on them both. If she was going hunting, it didn’t matter how dirty her breeches were. “I’ll see you tonight.” She stood on her tip-toes to quickly kiss Cassandra’s cheek, then darted away.
She skipped back up the stairs and pushed through the main hall’s heavy doors, unable to shake the feeling that she was being watched.
***
After a quick scrub and change of clothes, Cassandra found her uncle in the garden strolling through the small section of herbs, his hands clasped behind his back. His skeleton assistant trailed behind him, scribbling notes at Vestalus’s direction. Posted at the entrance was his armed escort, mercifully human and dressed in the full regalia of the Mortalitasi. Their insignia of a skull wearing a crown with a five-pointed star on its forehead was emblazoned across his chest. He bowed slightly at Cassandra’s arrival. She curtly returned the gesture and joined Vestalus.
“These are remarkable. I didn’t know you could cultivate ghoul’s beard in this climate.” Vestalus waved a hand at a twisted, gnarled vine suspended from a trellis. Despite the warm sun, he was dressed in the same deep green velvet robes as this morning, under which he wore an elaborate, high collared buttoned shirt. When he gestured again, the wide sleeves slipped down his arm to reveal several gold bangles on his wrist, matching the gold bands on each of his fingers. At Vestalus’s direction the skeleton made a laborious “x” on its parchment, next to a series of indecipherable scribbles.
Cassandra clasped her hands behind her back. “Indeed you can.”
“You never did take any interest in botany,” Vestalus replied without looking at her. He bent to examine the small, shimmering pond next to the trellis. “Blood lotus, too. Remarkable.” Another flick of his wrist, and another shaky “x” was added to the parchment.
Cassandra ground her teeth. She’d actually enjoyed studying botany; it was the only subject that had allowed her free reign over the gardens of the Necropolis when she was a child, to sink her hands into cool, damp earth and be among plants and grass and flowers that were gloriously alive. Not that she expected him to understand that.
“Giselle, a revered mother from Jader, and her sisters oversee the garden. The Inquisitor brings back seeds and cuttings for them to propagate,” she said. Never mind the fact that it had been Cassandra who’d taught Everly the correct harvesting and storage techniques for half the herbs currently growing in the robust garden, including the ghoul’s beard.
Vestalus stood, nodding as if in approval. “The Inquisitor. Yes. I’m glad you found her.”
“No thanks to you.” Cassandra snapped reflexively. A familiar frustration built within her. Her uncle had spent most of her life ignoring her interests, and whenever he did deign to speak to her about them, dismissing them outright. He knew nothing about her, or her relationship, or all she’d sacrificed in a lifetime of service to the Maker.
Her uncle continued his slow appraisal of the garden. Cassandra fell into step beside him. He was always so tall and imposing when she and Anthony were children; now she towered over him. The effect was disorienting, and for a moment her frustration ebbed.
“As I explained, I removed your soulmark to protect you. It was your parents’ wish, and I would do so again. Being angry over it serves you no purpose.” He didn’t look at her while he spoke, instead focusing on another herb. “Ah. Bitter elfroot.”
“That’s gossamer elfroot.” Cassandra stopped and placed her hands on her hips.
Vestalus squinted at the plant. “I see.” His gaze swept across the garden before reaching Cassandra’s face. He crossed his arms, the gold bangles on his wrist clinking together. The skeleton shivered nervously, looking back and forth between them. “What do you want from me, Cassandra? To beg forgiveness? Snap my fingers and undo your entire childhood? Bring your brother back?”
Heat rushed to Cassandra’s face. She exhaled slowly, trying to remain calm at the mention of Anthony. Even after years of meditation and training, she still wasn’t very good at it.
“An acknowledgement, at least. The Necropolis was no place to raise children. Surely you must have known that.”
“The Necropolis kept you safe. I kept you safe.”
“By stuffing me into dresses and trying to marry me off when I was twelve?”
Vestalus threw up his hands, voice rising. “Maker’s breath, you’re as stubborn as your father. Think, girl! Finding a suitable match was the best thing I could have done for you. It would have eliminated any concern about your mark, and no one would question your loyalty to Markus.”
“It was hardly the best thing you could have done!” Cassandra surged forward, invading Vestalus’s personal space and making him look up at her. She’d been so ashamed of her size growing up, but now she took pleasure in how she loomed over her uncle. A small voice inside her said she should step back, that it was wholly improper for the Seeker to cause a scene in front of so many onlookers, but a lifetime of unhealed wounds spurred her on. “Did you not know what I endured at the hands of those suitors? Or did you just not care?”
Vestalus flinched, as if he’d been slapped. He stepped backwards on shaky legs and sank onto a nearby bench. His shoulders sagged forward and Cassandra realized that she’d never seen her uncle look so defeated. It did not make her feel any better.
“That Van Markham boy got what he deserved.” Bitterness seeped into his voice. “I said as much to his family.”
“Then why was I confined to my room for a week?”
“I needed to keep up appearances, unfortunately. Despite that boy’s deplorable behavior, snapping his arm in half could not go unpunished. But you are right. I could--I should have done more.” Vestalus rubbed at a spot above his left eye. It was the same gesture he’d done whenever one of her and Anthony’s handlers would drag them into the Prelate’s office and rattle off a list of infractions they’d committed. No matter how innocuous or innocent their actions, it usually resulted in an aggravated Vestalus snapping at them and sending them off to work in the kitchen, or silently attend to graves with a Mourn Watch initiate. She and Anthony had been so desperate to escape that place; surely her uncle had not been so self-involved that he hadn’t recognized it.
Cassandra took another deep breath, exhaling through her nose. A few curious stares were still coming their way, but it appeared that people were gradually losing interest in the charged conversation--or they were averting their eyes out of respect for her position. She sat down next to Vestalus, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the top of her knees. She clasped her hands together, scarred knuckles turning white, and wished that Everly were here. Despite being fifteen years her junior, Everly was far more adept at difficult conversations than Cassandra could ever hope to be.
“Did you know that Markus wanted you and Anthony dead?” Vestalus continued in a low voice. “After your parents were killed, I appealed to him directly. He didn’t care that you were only children. You had nothing to do with your parents’ decision, but Markus was convinced that one day one--or both--of you would seek vengeance. He only granted my request when I swore I would raise you together in the Necropolis, under my direct supervision. I did not realize all that would entail, nor was I prepared to raise two grieving children. You, especially. I failed you both. I see that now.”
Cassandra’s anger bled away, leaving behind a hollow emptiness in her chest. She’d often thought of confronting her uncle like this, finally putting him to task for her unhappiness, but there was no righteousness to be had here. Next to her was an old man weighed down by regret, not the cold, distant figure she’d known as a child.
“Perhaps we were all just trying our best,” she said softly, staring at the ground. “We did not make it easy for you.”
Vestalus sighed. “I asked too much of you. And, Anthony…he was so headstrong. So sure of himself, even at such a young age.” His thin hand reached out to pat the top of her knee, then quickly retreated. A signet ring on his index finger displayed the crest of the Pentaghast house. “I am sorry you were there when he was killed. Truly a horrible sight for someone so young to witness. And I am also sorry I was not able to offer you comfort.”
Cassandra’s throat tightened uncomfortably. The image of her brother’s dead body sprang forth in her mind, and only through sheer will did she force it away. She uttered a prayer under her breath to center herself. “Thank you, uncle. That is…kind of you to say.”
Vestalus hummed in response and they both fell silent. A warm breeze rustled the foliage surrounding them and carried the low murmurs of conversation that were ever-present in the bustling fortress. A familiar rattling noise was just off Cassandra’s shoulder, the sound of bone on bone reminding her of the skeleton’s presence. She turned her head to look into empty eye sockets staring expectantly, like it was urging them to go on. Cassandra stifled a laugh. What an odd little wisp.
Eventually Vestalus cleared his throat. “The Inquisitor is not quite what I expected.”
“Most people have that experience.”
“I wonder why that is.” Vestalus looked at her, a slight twinkle of amusement in his eye. “You are well matched, if I may say.”
“You may.” Heat rushed to Cassandra’s face. She rubbed her palms together vigorously. Was Vestalus actually teasing her?
“And you are happy?”
“Yes.” Cassandra felt her mouth twitch of its own accord, as it often did whenever she thought of Everly. “She’s not what I expected, either.”
“Tell me about her.” Vestalus folded his hands in his lap placidly, waiting for her to continue. Cassandra’s blush spread from her face to her neck and she felt a sudden urge to stand and pace.
“Well. Um.” She cleared her throat. “She’s young, so young that I would not normally entertain such thoughts. Yet I was drawn to her. I can’t explain it. You cannot imagine what is demanded of her, yet she never falters. She’s strong, utterly fearless in a way I wish she wasn’t, and perhaps the most gifted individual with a bow I’ve ever encountered.” Vestalus chuckled as Cassandra wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs. She was hardly one to gush to anyone , and especially not her uncle, but his quiet curiosity propelled her further. Maybe a part of her had always wished they could talk openly like this, without fear of disturbing him or being subject to outright derision.
“She’s kind, too. Wants to help everyone.” Cassandra’s voice dipped lower as she stared at her hands. “Just last week, we spent an entire afternoon searching for a lost druffalo near Redcliffe farms. When we finally--”
A chill shot down Cassandra’s back. She leapt to her feet, head whipping around the garden. Nothing was out of order; chantry sisters and orderlies moved gracefully among the plants, groups of lesser nobles were locked in quiet conversation. Mother Giselle caught Cassandra’s eye from across the way and bowed respectfully. No calls of alarm, no panicked crowds.
“Cassandra--?” Vestalus stood, an uncertain look on his face.
Cassandra raised her hand, cutting him off. The shiver migrated from her back into her chest and curled into a pulling sensation, urging her in a specific direction--out of the garden and towards Skyhold’s gates. It took her a moment to recognize the feeling. It was the same one she’d felt after the attack on Haven, that she’d followed to find Everly half-dead in the snow.
It also only meant one thing.
She was moving before she realized it, rushing out of the garden, out the doors, and down to the stables at the lower level. Vaguely, she heard her uncle puffing behind her and the jangling of chains and bracelets followed by clacking bones. Cassandra threw a clipped explanation over her shoulder.
“The Inquisitor is in trouble.”
III. Finger Up Your Spine
Cassandra knelt to examine the dead body before her, dressed in Inquisition colors. He was an older recruit and had been with the Inquisition since the organization first formed in Haven. He’d functioned as Everly’s personal guard on a few occasions, and clearly she’d grabbed him on her way out of the fortress to escort her on her hunting excursion. The clearing was a trampled mess of flattened grass and upturned bushes, displaying the obvious aftermath of a struggle. Two more bodies lay several feet away. Mercenaries.
Scout Harding emerged from the brush, slightly breathless. “There’s a camp close by. Looks like they’ve been there for a few days. Six of them, I reckon.”
Cassandra placed a hand on the soldier’s chest, uttering a brief prayer of gratitude and bidding that he find his way to the Maker’s side. An arrow had caught him right in the neck. He hadn’t suffered. “An ambush, then.”
“Risky to hide out so close to Skyhold, though.” Krem crossed his arms, his distaste evident. “There’s too much traffic through here. Someone would’ve seen them.”
Cassandra walked over to the two dead mercenaries, a scowl forming on her lips. She’d grabbed Krem and Harding on her way to the stables, knowing that they could mobilize quickly and without causing an alarm. Her uncle had insisted on coming as well, ordering both his skeleton assistant and escort to remain behind. Given the way the man had just stood there and blinked dumbly at the order, Cassandra was fairly certain it was no real loss. However, the way Vestalus kept shifting his weight and frowning at the mud collecting on his boots and robes suggested he also was less than comfortable with the outdoors.
“They must have been working with someone inside Skyhold.” Cassandra kicked at the nearest body, rolling him onto his back. A familiar hunting blade jutted out of his armpit, jammed between the joints of his light armor. Cassandra yanked it free, wiped the blade on her pants, and shoved it into her belt.
Good girl, she thought.
“Should we send word back?” Vestalus’s expression remained impassive, but his hands twisted nervously around themselves as he spoke.
Cassandra shook her head. “No point in raising an alarm yet until we’ve investigated further. They could not have gone far.”
Krem spun around the clearing, then looked at Harding. “Which way?”
“That way.” Cassandra answered before the scout. To her credit, Harding just raised a brow in clear interest.
The struggle had been confined to the center of the clearing, where the mercenaries had gotten the jump on Everly and her escort, however there were no clear tracks leading in either direction away and anyone with half a brain could easily melt into the mountainous terrain surrounding Skyhold. Cassandra didn’t need tracks, though. The feeling in her chest pulled her in one direction and one direction only.
She would find Everly. She’d done it before. A strange calm descended upon her, sharpening her focus to a crystal point.
“She fought back.” Vestalus surveyed the dead mercenary Cassandra had kicked over.
“Of course she did.” Cassandra grabbed the reins of her warhorse, Andromache, and climbed into the saddle. “Harding, stay here in case there are more of them. If we don’t return by nightfall, head back to Skyhold and inform Leliana.”
Harding nodded. Krem and Vestalus went to their mounts and followed Cassandra out of the clearing.
They didn’t have to go far before the thatched roof of a run down cabin came into view. There were a handful of such structures scattered around Skyhold--hastily constructed shelters providing temporary respite for hunters or travelers who often abandoned them just as quickly. The feeling turned into a drumbeat, matching the time of her heart, and she knew with utter certainty that Everly was in that building. She brought Andromache to a stop and slid out of the saddle, drawing her sword when her feet hit the soft ground. She left her shield behind. Behind her, she knew Krem was also readying his weapon but she did not wait. Her purpose was clear, her path laid out before her. She was an empty vessel, devoid of all thought and emotion except for the divine purpose the Maker had bestowed upon her: protecting the Inquisitor.
Her Inquisitor.
The two mercenaries standing guard at the door to the cabin didn’t see her coming. Even if they had, nothing would have saved them. Her blade was quick and true, slashing through the first man’s throat before embedding itself into the second man’s gut. When she pulled it out, blood splattered against the cabin’s rotting wood. A muffled cry came from just beyond the door, and with one swift kick it gave way and Cassandra was standing in the small, dank single room, chest heaving with righteous fury.
Everly was strung up before her, arms stretched overhead and bound at the wrist by a set of shackles that were looped over the cross beam that traversed the length of the cabin. Another set bound her ankles and were driven into the floor, keeping her in place. A dirty gag was jammed into her mouth and she was naked from the waist up. Blood smeared across her torso. Grey eyes widened when she saw Cassandra, glassy with pain, and the Anchor spat and crackled furiously.
Behind her stood Andreas, face twisted in concentration, his hands painting a complex pattern in the air. A stream of blazing red fire shot forth from his palms, drawing a trail down Everly’s back. The flames disappeared when he saw Cassandra, and somehow he became even paler. Through some miraculous intervention by the Maker--or a previously undiscovered well of self-restraint--Cassandra managed to stop herself from leaping at the mage and lopping off his head.
“Back away. Now.” She leveled her blade at Andreas, lips curled back in a feral snarl. Everly gasped into her gag, fighting against her bindings.
Andreas’s hands began to glow. A wild, frantic look blazed in his eyes. “The bloodlines must be preserved! I will eliminate the interloper!” Spittle formed at the corner of his mouth. “You don’t deserve the glory of--”
“Enough!”
The moldy, swollen frame of the cabin shuddered as a wall of magic swooped through and struck Andreas right in the chest. He flew backwards and slammed the back of his head against the wall. The loud crack echoed through the structure and Cassandra wasn’t sure if it was the snapping of rotten wood or Andreas's skull.
Vestalus loomed in the doorway, finally the image of the imposing figure that Cassandra remembered from childhood. Sheer disgust registered across his face and wisps of sparking magic swirled around his shoulders. Krem stood behind him, jaw agape.
Vestalus stalked over to Andreas’s body. Just as he began to stir Vestalus delivered a swift backhand and Andreas slumped back to the ground.
“Fanatic.” Disdain radiated from him. “I only took him on as a favor to his mother. I knew he had problematic views but I never thought he would be bold enough to act on them. What a waste.”
Cassandra only heard half of what her uncle was saying. Her sword slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. She grabbed Everly’s thigh to steady her and pulled down the gag. Everly took a big gulping inhale, grimacing through the pain.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Must you joke?”
Everly managed a weak grin, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Can’t do much else, can I?”
Two bursts of Vestalus’s magic broke the shackles and Everly dropped into Cassandra’s arms. She lowered them both to the floor as gently as she could. Everly crumpled against her chest, clutching at Cassandra’s armor. She started shaking.
“They came out of nowhere. I tried to fight them off. I was stupid, so fucking stupid--” Everly buried her face against Cassandra’s chest plate.
“Hush now.” Cassandra yanked off her gloves and trailed her fingers through Everly’s hair, finding a large lump and dried blood in her scalp. Everly’s entire back was covered in black, thick blood oozing from a wound that ran from her shoulder to her hip, exactly along the line of her soulmark. Layers and layers of skin had been removed and the ragged edges of the wound were red and blistering, as if someone had tried to seal it with an iron that wasn’t hot enough. The lettering that had stretched across Everly’s back was stripped away.
Everly’s voice broke. “Is it gone?”
Cassandra swallowed thickly. “Be still.”
Everly’s trembling increased. A cold, clammy sweat broke out over her shoulders and neck. Cassandra’s own hands started shaking as her eyes took in the horrific sight of Everly’s back. She’d never seen wounds like this before; the simple, direct slash of a sharpened blade was her purview, not this torture. The earlier clarity that drove her with such purpose was gone now, replaced by blind panic. Without her sword in her hand she was helpless.
“What the hell was he doing to the Inquisitor?” Krem remained in the doorway, as if unsure he should enter, yet was leveling his sword at Andreas’s limp body. Everly let out a series of whimpers, followed by another great shudder. Cassandra held her as close as she could without brushing against her wound, gripping Everly’s shoulder and keeping a hand on the back of her head.
“Something cruel and wholly unnecessary.” Vestalus knelt down and examined Everly’s wounds.
“Can you help her?” Cassandra’s voice wavered. “Please, Uncle.”
“Of course.” Vestalus’s hand covered her own on Everly’s head. He looked up at Krem. “She cannot travel until this is cleaned and bandaged. Please ride to Skyhold and bring back fresh dressings and potions for pain. We will also need a mount for her. One with a smooth gait. And shackles for our new prisoner.”
Krem was gone in a flash. Vestalus leaned closer. “Cassandra, are there any prophet’s laurel in this area?”
Cassandra blinked. Everly was breathing through clenched teeth and sweat was pouring off her. “Wh-what?”
“Prophet’s laurel.” Vestalus repeated urgently. “I can make a poultice. It will help.”
The direct request finally gave her mind something else to focus on. She’d heard of the herb Vestalus was asking for--it had come in handy for her own injuries numerous times. It took her a moment to respond as she recalled all the herbs and flowers native to Skyhold’s region.
“No,” she said finally. “But there is embrium. If you crush the stems, not the leaves, it will have a similar effect. I thought I saw a cluster nearby.”
Vestalus smiled at her. “Good. I will be right back.” He lowered his mouth to Everly’s ear. “Deep breaths, child. This will be over soon.”
He disappeared with a dramatic swirl of his mud-splattered robes. Cassandra watched him leave. Her chest swelled with an emotion she’d rarely, if ever, felt for her uncle: affection.
Everly sniffled against Cassandra’s chest plate. Her breath was still ragged. “It’s gone, isn’t it?” Desperation crept into her voice. “Don’t lie to me.”
Cassandra sighed. Between the oozing blood and flayed skin, she couldn’t honestly couldn’t tell. In her heart, though, she knew the truth. Andreas was sloppy, but it was effective.
“I think so,” Cassandra whispered. She clutched tightly at Everly, her voice turning into a low, fierce growl. “It doesn’t change anything, do you hear me? Not one damn thing.”
Everly nodded, but remained silent. Her hand slid down Cassandra’s breastplate and dug into her hip.
A few moments later Vestalus returned, grasping a handful of brightly colored embrium blossoms. He took off his robes, laying them down on the dirty floor of the cabin, then laid a clean cloth across the lush green silk lining. He set to work crushing the stems, gradually adding water from his waterskin to make a paste. “Make sure she stays awake,” he said to Cassandra.
“I’m not going to pass out.” Everly’s indignant reply was muffled against Cassandra’s chest plate. “Can you explain why exactly that asshole attacked me again?”
“Andreas’s family is from a group that holds uniquely conservative views regarding royal lineage. They’re obsessed with maintaining purity in the two dynastic houses: the Pentaghasts and the Van Markhams.” Vestalus continued mixing the poultice with practiced efficiency. “He no doubt saw your mark as a potential threat and took it upon himself to remove it. He was a gifted young Mortalitasi. Intense in his bearing and studies, but I never thought he’d be capable of something like this. I should never have brought him here. I am sorry, Inquisitor. And to you, Cassandra. Please forgive me.”
Everly grunted in response. Vestalus continued.
“I am glad we found you when we did. I did not train him in the magic he was using. If we’d arrived any later, he would have killed you.”
“There is a method to removing soulmarks, isn’t there?” Cassandra asked.
“It is a very specific brand of magic. It requires patience and a deft hand. Otherwise, you get…this.” Vestalus gestured at Everly’s back. His eyes went to Cassandra, a dark shroud passing through his gaze. His mouth opened, like he was about to say something, and it took him a long time to speak. “I practiced on my own before I removed yours.”
Cassandra’s stomach dropped. “You what?”
Vestalus gathered the poultice in one palm and settled next to Everly. “Remember to breathe,” he said to her, then to Cassandra: “Hold her. This will hurt.” Before either one could say anything else, he smeared the mixture down the open wound.
Everly hissed and reflexively jerked away. Cassandra dug her hand into Everly’s shoulder and Vestalus pressed down on Everly’s hip, keeping her in place while Vestalus applied the poultice. A fresh layer of sweat broke out over Everly’s torso and she clawed at Cassandra’s hip. Vestalus’s touch was quick and assured, and the poultice was applied after only a few passes. He wiped the blood from Everly’s back with the cloth he used to mix the poultice and draped it across her.
“That will do for now,” he announced, sitting back on his heels.
Cassandra stroked Everly’s hair. “You had a soulmark?”
A sad, fleeting smile crossed Vestalus’s face. He suddenly looked very tired and very frail. “His name was Christoph. Another Mortalitasi. We found each other briefly, before the last uprising against Markus. He knew your parents. He was also killed alongside them.” He shuddered and closed his eyes, like the memory caused him physical pain.
“But why remove your mark?”
“After he died, I could not bear to look at it every day knowing he was gone. And, as I said, I needed the practice.” Vestalus pulled back the sleeve of his robe, displaying a discolored patch of skin on his forearm. It wasn’t as clean as the one on Cassandra’s leg; it rippled and puckered unevenly, as if done with an unsteady hand, but was orders of magnitude better than what Andreas had attempted. Cassandra’s jaw dropped open. In all her life, she’d only seen her uncle in voluminous robes that covered him from neck to ankle. Now she understood why.
Everly raised her head from Cassandra’s chest. Sweat trickled from her temples and she was deathly pale, yet she offered Vestalus a kind smile. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Vestalus cleared his throat. “It was a long time ago.” He slid a hand under Everly’s bicep. “Come, let’s get you to your feet. Your comrades will be returning soon.”
IV. Full House
Cassandra leaned against the guard tower on the battlements, looking out over the chasm that surrounded Skyhold on three sides. The sun was beginning its ascent, bathing the Frostbacks in brilliant shades of bright red and orange. Cassandra inhaled deeply, enjoying the crisp morning air while it lasted. Although it was still only the early weeks of spring, the day already felt like it would be uncharacteristically warm.
Heat bloomed in her chest as the sound of boots scuffling over stone grew louder. She looked over her shoulder to see Everly crest the stairs with a grimace. An affectionate smile tugged at the corner of mouth and Cassandra raised her left arm as an invitation. Everly shuffled over and tucked herself against Cassandra’s side. Cassandra lowered her arm and gently draped her wrist over Everly’s shoulder. Everly inhaled, tensing for a moment, then relaxed into her.
“You’re up early,” Cassandra said.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Everly grumbled.
“I know.” Cassandra brushed her lips against the top of Everly’s head. “You are feeling better though, yes?”
“Like I got run over by only one druffalo instead of an entire herd.”
“A victory, nonetheless.”
The reply only earned her another grumble, but Everly pressed closer.
Two weeks had passed since Andreas’s attack, and while Every’s injuries were healing rather well, the process was taking far too long for the impatient Inquisitor. As someone who was also ill-suited to inactivity, Cassandra understood Everly’s frustration, although she would never admit how entertaining Everly’s comically black moods were becoming.
Everly was at her best when she was out in the world, talking to everyone that crossed their path, offering refugees assistance, and converting people one by one to the Inquisition’s cause through the sheer force of her personality. Now she was restricted to the fortress’s walls, unable to hide from the piles and piles of neglected correspondence and her advisor’s relentless strategy meetings. Josephine, in particular, had gleefully trapped Everly in her office for several days, forcing the Inquisitor to work through a stack of parchments the size of her head. Everly couldn’t even retreat to the training grounds and her archery targets; it was still too painful to draw her bow, and last time she tried she’d nearly ripped the massive wound open again. That bothered her more than anything, and Cassandra needed to remind her that it would just take time. They’d both laughed at the irony--the brash, ferocious Seeker advocating for patience.
“It’ll be hot today,” Everly said as the sun rose higher.
Cassandra breathed in the fresh air mingling with the scent of pine and cedar from Everly’s skin. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Josephine will keep you locked away and out of the sun.”
“Will you rescue me? Just make something up. Say that Corypheus is in the kitchen.”
“Absolutely not. You know I’m terrified of Josephine.”
“You’re not terrified of anything.”
Cassandra’s voice dipped low. “I most certainly am.”
Everly stilled. She reached across her body with her right hand and linked her fingers with Cassandra’s. The symbolism of the gesture was not lost on Cassandra. She glanced down at their entwined fingers, and the matching tattoos twisting around their ring fingers--on the traditional left hand for Cassandra, and out of deference for the Anchor, on the right for Everly. The design was a simple vine, bending in and around itself in a never-ending circle.
The mark was gone. What Andreas lacked in skill and control, he made up for in brutality and after they returned to Skyhold it was clear the mark could not be recovered. Cassandra had taken the loss in stride. Everly was alive and would recover, and that was all that mattered to her. In a way, she supposed there was some poetry in the symmetry of both of their marks being removed. Everly also wasn’t as upset as Cassandra thought she might be, but she’d come up with the idea of tattoos a few days later. Vestalus himself had done the honors, controlling the fine needle with precise, skillful magic as it made its way around their fingers.
They stood next to each other, hands locked, listening as Skyhold came awake below them. The hum of activity carried up the fortress walls and along the battlements. A soft clanking of armor drew closer, signifying an approaching patrol. Everly squeezed Cassandra’s hand and stepped away.
More scuffling near the stairs drew Cassandra’s attention, and she turned to find Vestalus’s skeleton assistant holding a writing pad similar to Josephine’s. He tapped ungracefully at the parchment, splattering ink over the finger bones holding a dramatic, flowery quill.
Everly groaned. “Dammit, Willard, already?”
Willard tapped again, spilling more ink. Cassandra swore she saw an impatient look cross his face, despite its jarring lack of flesh. “Willard?”
“It’s what he likes to be called. He’s been helping me with my correspondence. In exchange, I’ve been teaching him cards.” Everly waved a hand and produced the deck of cards she always carried, improving on her already impressive sleight of hand.
“He can play cards?”
“Oh, yes. He’s already quite good at Shepard’s Six.” Everly gave her a knowing wink, while Willard nodded excitedly. “You two will have to play a hand before he leaves.”
“Not likely.”
“Don’t worry about her, Will. She’s just jealous.” The cards disappeared back into whatever pocket Everly secreted them away in. She placed a hand on the skeleton’s shoulder, using him for support as she started down the stairs. “Remember, love: Corypheus is devouring all the pastries in the kitchen and I’m needed immediately.” Everly tossed a lopsided smile over her shoulder. Cassandra rolled her eyes and waved her away.
Cassandra stayed a moment longer, then spun on her heel and made her own way down the battlements. Instead of heading to the training grounds, where she was certainly expected, she veered right and entered Skyhold’s great hall. A sharp left, and she pushed through the door leading to the garden.
Vestalus was kneeling in the far corner, working in a flower bed. He was dressed more casually than usual, forgoing his heavy, layered robes for simple breeches and tunic. His arms were bare, and as Cassandra approached, the scar on his forearm was in clear view. She knelt next to him, looking over the row of tiny yellow blossoms he was planting.
“Good morning, Uncle.”
“Good morning, Cassandra. I thought today we’d start on the daisies.”
“As you wish.” Cassandra reached for the nearest tiny flower and a small trowel. She started digging in the dirt next to her uncle. “I believe today you were also going to tell me about Christoph.”
Vestalus nodded, eyes downcast. “Yes. I did say that. What would you know?”
Cassandra brushed the dirt from her hands and reached up to squeeze his shoulder. “Everything.”