The garden has become a comfortable retreat in those fleeting moments where she has spare time. There are walls, but open air, and the scent of flowers and herbs all around despite the chill of autumn. In the mountains it tended to mean little. In Skyhold? Even less so.

But she is here, comfortably settled and reading a book of what looks suspiciously like Antivan poetry, though she does glance up now and then to watch Norrington's lessons progress.