Chapter Text
Wil had only asked a simple question.
“You’re making me nervous gaping at me like that, Josephine.”
Josephine closed her mouth but kept staring. “Forgive me, Inquisitor. I assumed, given your family—your station in Ostwick, that you would be used to formal balls.”
“I was always too young to go. Then, I started preparing for life in the Chantry,” he said. “Though I’d wager that a ball in the Free Marches is nothing like an Orlesian fête.”
“You have me there.” She set down her papers and smiled up at him, tension leaving her shoulders. “Sometimes I forget that you had planned to join the Chantry.”
“Am I that blasphemous?” asked Wil. He intended it to be a joke, but Josephine’s eyes went wide.
“Oh no! Please don’t misunderstand. I only meant that it’s hard to imagine you locked in a library all day.”
“It did get lonely, sometimes. But I suppose we’ll never know how that would have turned out.” And Wil was surprised to find that he wasn’t sad about it. Of course, now that he had people to discuss books with, he had almost no time to read.
“An unintended consequence of the Breach, albeit a pleasant one.” Josephine stood and rounded her desk, her hair and blouse shining in the sunlight. “Now, what did you want to know?”
What was the most urgent question? Wil scratched his chin. “Do I get to wear a mask?”
She laughed, but stopped when he didn’t join her and cleared her throat. “I think it would be best if you didn’t. We don’t want to seem like we’re mocking their customs.”
“Mock Orlesians? I would never.” Wil put a hand to his chest, covering his disappointment with feigned offense. But he laughed it off. “All right, no masks. Next question. What do I say if someone talks to me?”
She blinked a few times; apparently, Wil was asking stupid questions, though Josephine was far too polite to say so. “Could you be more specific?” she asked.
Wil frowned, grasping for an example of a situation, but he didn’t even know enough to know what to ask. “No?”
A little laugh escaped her lips before she covered her mouth, but Wil wasn’t bothered. “I apologize. It’s just that you of all people will have no trouble charming the court.”
“I’m not half as charming as you are,” he said, flashing a smile.
Wil’s words and Josephine’s subsequent blush did not deter her. “This is exactly what I mean. If it were Sera, I’d be more concerned. Presenting Cole at the Winter Palace?” She shuddered. “Perish the thought. But you, Inquisitor, will be fine.”
The knot in his stomach started to unravel, but only a little. “Just the same, I’d like your advice.”
“Very well.” She pursed her lips, thinking. One corner of her mouth quirked up. “Never give a direct answer. As I understand from talking to Seeker Pentaghast, you are quite good at this.”
Wil didn’t know what to make of that. He didn’t realize Cassandra talked about him, but Josephine didn’t give him a chance to ponder it.
“Don’t reveal your cards until you are certain you have the upper hand,” she went on. “Your natural charisma is a boon, and the Orlesians do love a fresh face, but everyone else has been playing the Game for years. Decades.” She sighed. “I suppose your apprehension is not without cause.”
He swallowed, but masked it with a grin. “Thanks. You’ve made me feel better.”
“Oh, goodness!” Her hand flew to her mouth. “I’ve made it worse, haven’t I? That was not my intent.”
“Relax, Josephine, I’m being honest. You’ve helped a great deal.” This made her smile. Wil shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “There’s just one more thing.”
“Of course, Inquisitor.”
He sucked in a deep breath. “Will I be expected to dance? I haven’t danced since I was boy. Once I devoted my life to study, my parents abandoned all hope of socializing me.”
“And yet, you are among the most civilized members of the Inquisition,” she replied with a giggle.
“Oh, I think Dorian has a leg up.”
“Be that as it may, I’m afraid his heritage won’t win him any points in Halamshiral.” Josephine frowned. “Orlesian nobles aren’t known for their open minds.”
“All the more reason I shouldn’t step on any toes, literal or figurative. Will you help me?”
Josephine’s lips curled in a mischievous smile. “Hoping, perhaps, that you’ll have a chance to dance with Cassandra?”
His grin widened. “If only she would have me,” he said, his voice wistful. For a moment, he had considered asking Cassandra to show him how to dance. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to talk to her, but she avoided him these days. She was probably hoping he would take the hint.
Wil briefly considered asking Dorian, but didn’t want to endure the inevitable teasing (even if he deserved it).
“Well, there will most certainly be dancing, and there is no faster way to dazzle at a ball,” said Josephine, pulling him from his thoughts and extending her hand.
He was right to come to Josephine. Laughing, she showed him how to lead, the movements coming back to him as if he had only learned them in a dream.