She's still for a moment, and then slaps the unused glass that had been set out with the wine she'd asked for, sending the crystal skittering and spinning across the floor as she surges unsteadily to her feet to give vent to her anger.

"How dare he do this to me. How dare he force me to find out with everyone else. Like everyone else."

She hadn't told Byerly, when she and Loki had made such promises. But she had thought him unaffected, then. She had not yet gone to confess herself, nor left again, nor made attempt at reconciliation. They had not been, hesitantly, uneasily, something approaching... friends.

He had said, then, that his other love affair commanded all his loyalty. Had meant, she'd thought, that the crown of Ferelden did not—could not—share. She had thought she could make herself happy with that. And then this.

"I had thought..." She's quiet now, mostly breath, settling again to her knees. "But I was wrong. And a fool."