Sophia could not forget the last time she left the Keep, as much as she wanted to. She could remember the way she felt, that crushing knowledge that her brother was still dead, but she still had to struggle to keep others from suffering the same fate. But there had been a kind of hope, too, a glimmer of hope that whatever she attempted could still work, only compounded when she learned of the existence of the book that the Qunari sought for. Of course, there had never really been any hope for that. The people in this city had been intent on murdering each other. A pointless, futile...
No, she didn't want to think about that right now. Any thoughts about what had happened that day brought little but pain, and she'd had just about enough of that for a while. Today would be her first day out and about, she had decided. She wasn't entirely sure if she was ready for that, given that she'd only been able to start moving around the Keep again two days ago, but... she couldn't stand to stay in there for another minute. She avoided the throne room as though it carried a plague, and did the same for Bran, for Meredith, for anyone of note who inevitably desired to ask her about what she planned to do next.
Sophia did not know the answer to that. There were many things that she did not want to do, and taking up her father's rule was right at the top of that list. The discussion of selecting a new Viscount or Viscountess had not even begun among the nobles; all of them seemingly thought that Sophia simply needed some time, and that soon she would settle back down and accept her inheritance. Perhaps they just didn't want to suggest Meredith step down from her position of temporary Stewardess of the city. Sophia could not give them a worthwhile answer one way or the other. Maybe they were right, and she just needed time and distance from recent events, to clear her head, and decide the best way forward.
In any case, it didn't have to happen today. Nostariel was due up to the Keep for a check-in on Sophia's recovery, but by Sophia's understanding of it, the Warden hadn't fared well from the strain, either. Rather than ask her to spend another afternoon expending magical energy she sorely needed to recover, Sophia wondered if they might not take a walk about Hightown instead. Any time out of the Keep would put Sophia in a better mood, she did not doubt, and it would be good to talk with her friend again.
So to that end, the Viscount's daughter, or the Viscountess (the Five-Minute Queen, she'd heard once), or whatever she was now, dressed herself comfortably and pulled her hair back into a ponytail, heading carefully down the steps of the Keep to meet Nostariel at the base, so that she would not need to climb any more for nothing.
Nostariel, as it turned out, still felt a little bit like she was walking on clouds. Not literally, of course, but there was just this lightness to her step that she wasnât sure she could remember having experienced before, like if she wasnât careful, her feet would stop hitting the ground and sheâd just float away somewhere else. She even managed to hum to herselfâsomewhat tunelessly, as it turned outâas she went, aware of the lingering signs of a month ago but resolved for the moment not to let them dampen her mood. There was, she could say from years of experience, plenty of opportunity to be appropriately solemn and sad; opportunities for happiness like this were far fewer, and worth the cherishing.
So she flittedâactually flitted about the clinic that morning, packing a small satchel of things Sophia might need and finishing the last bit of tidying. After all the use theyâd seen, sheâd had to change her tables and countertops, as well as a lot of the rest of her equipment, but fortunately, she had friends who were not bad with such skills as carpentry and whittling, so the clinic might actually look better now than it ever had. It seemed to fit, really.
Twisting her hair into a knot atop her head, she fastened it in place, tied on the Warden sigil, just in case, and swung the light satchel over her back, leaving Oathkeeper and her arrows at home. Her injuries and exhaustion had faded to a dull ache, and for that, exercise was just as good as rest, really, and so she didnât mind the walk up to the Keep at all, breaking out into a wide smile when she saw Sophia already descending the steps. âNow, milady, are you sure your healer would allow you out and about so soon?â The chastening note in the question was entirely for show, and the expression on her face made it rather obvious. Of course, Nostariel did wonder about Sophiaâs current state of mind, considering, but it was unlikely to be something she wanted to talk about at present. There were plenty of other people sure to be reminding her of it at every opportunity. So Nostariel at least would not, not unless Sophia brought it up first.
Part of Sophia was rather tired of being referred to as milady, but the smile on Nostariel's face helped her look past it, and she actually returned it, though her own was not nearly so full. It was good to see her again, looking almost none the worse for wear after all she'd been through during the attack. In fact, the Warden seemed in high spirits, and Sophia imagined that her being up and about once again wasn't the entire cause of that. "The way I see it," she said, reaching out to give Nostariel a hug, "as long as my healer accompanies me on my walk, we shouldn't have any problems." She was glad to see that Nostariel was bouncing back physically. Now she didn't have to feel guilty about leaning on her just a little.
Sliding her arm under Nostariel's, she set out at an easy pace, taking a moment to enjoy just how much more open the air seemed out here than inside the confines of the Keep, lofty as they were. "Really, though, I think I just needed to get out of the Keep for a while. It's not... well, I just needed to get out for a while." There was no good way to describe it, she supposed. It was either a feeling one understood or one that they did not. She wondered if Nostariel had ever felt that way about the Circle, before she'd become a Warden.
"Do you know if the market is open again?" she asked, changing the subject. There had been heavy fighting there, if she recalled correctly, and while Hightown was the first part of the city to have order restored to it by the Templars, many of the merchants were not eager to come out and risk their goods so quickly, with the city guard as depleted as it was.
Nostariel could definitely sympathize, and resolved to keep the topics of conversation well away from anything to do with why it might be that Sophia felt the need to get out for a bit. âMostly, I think. There are a few merchants who might not feel comfortable setting up for a while, but if thereâs one thing Templars are always good at, itâs imposing a sense of order. I suspect most people feel fairly safe by this point.â Sometimes that was a good thing, sometimes not so much, but she restricted her comment to that, because talking about the Templars right now was talking about the state of the city, and it was only going to circle back to unpleasant things eventually. Given how ubiquitous such matters were, thoughâŠ
âWhy do you ask? Have you the sudden desire to peruse exotic silks? Taste the new spice shipments from Antiva? Complain that the Orlesian vintage for sale is clearly not sufficiently aged?â Nostarielâs smile crinkled her eyes at the corners. Minus possibly looking at silk, none of those things were like Sophia in the slightest, and the very mental image of her (mostly) practical friend doing something so frivolous as complaining about the date on a bottle of Orlesian red was rather incongruous. Enough so that she found it funny.
"I've forgotten my jewelry today, I'm afraid," she said, taking up a slightly haughty tone, "I always need my jewelry if I'm going to harass the merchants." She had, of course, never harassed a merchant in her life, as best she could recall, and certainly wouldn't do so over something like a vintage or a shipment of spice. The markets sounded nice, however. Sophia didn't intend on purchasing anything, as she hadn't even brought any money with her today, but if there was a specific place that had the most color and energy in Hightown, it was there. Well, she supposed the Blooming Rose could have it beat, but she wasn't really looking for that kind of color and energy. Mostly she was looking for a place to walk around, where interesting things could catch her eyes.
Nostariel, though... Nostariel was acting strangely, in perhaps the best way possible. Sophia had expected her to still be tired, exhausted even, perhaps in low spirits as well from all that had happened recently, but she was quite the opposite. "You are positively glowing today, you know that?" Her tone was the slightest bit teasing, as she could guess that the good mood wasn't just for her benefit. "I suspect I know what this is about. A certain kiss comes to mind, at any rate." One look at her was enough to confirm that. She hadn't thought much of it at the time, given everything else that was going on, but with some separation from it, Sophia could realize just how much that would mean to Nostariel. She nudged her gently in the ribs with an elbow.
"Let's hear the details, then."
Nostariel coughed off to the side, clearly more than a little abashed by how obvious she was being, but too happy to really do anything about it. Still, when next she lifted her eyes to Sophia, her enthusiasm had contained itself into a smile with a tinge of embarrassment. âIâm being insufferable, arenât I?â She rolled her eyes in a good-natured fashion, and sighed, half from a sort of self-effacement and half⊠well the other half was honest-to-Maker dreaminess, if she was being completely honest. âIt was, um⊠awkward, actually. Though Iâm sure thatâs not hard to guess. I think⊠I think we were both a little⊠wary, maybe. Cautious at the very least. I was admittedly terrified.â A bit like jumping off a cliff without knowing if the drop was two feet or two hundred. A piece of her recent conversation with Lucien came back to mind.
âItâs difficult, not knowing. Even if it seems obvious to everyone else, maybe. I suppose it was obvious, wasnât it?â She wasnât certain she wanted to know how muchâthat might be even more embarrassing in retrospect. All the hedging, the dancing around. A bit silly, now that she knew thereâd been nothing to worry about. Perhaps theyâd each had to come into themselves a little first, but there was nothing much stopping them, afterwards, save their own hesitations.
The two women reached the market proper, the sight of the former Viscountâs daughter arm-in-arm with an elf of all things hardly even registering on the scale of strangeness anymore. Perhaps in another month or two, such things would again be worthy of skeptical sideways looks, but for the moment, everything was a bit too unsettled to lean so heavily on conventions. Or so it seemed to Nostariel. The air in the market was, as it often seemed to be, a little thick with the aromas of some of the wares for sale: perfumes, spices, steel. It wasnât overpowering, but it was easily perceptible. A few of the stands still had damage here or there, but by and large, things were in working order. Merchants could hardly afford extended recovery times, after all.
âBut⊠I suppose I canât regret even that. He was very sweet. I mean, Ash is always sweet, but⊠well.â The Warden colored slightly, shaking her head. âWe went up to a lookout point on Sundermont, you know, view of the whole city. Oh that sounds dreadfully clichĂ©d now that I say it out loud.â The thought amused her more than anything, though. âI asked him⊠how I should take that, you know⊠the kiss. It took us a bit of time, but eventually we wound up in the right place.â Nostariel realized she was rambling somewhat, and perhaps had been doing so for quite some time now, and the permanent smile became apologetic for a moment. âI ah, didn't mean to gush there, sorry.â There was a pause. She wasnât sure how to ask her next question tactfully, so she settled for asking it gently. âDid⊠did Lucien say anything to you, after you woke up? He never left you, you know. I told him it might help you if people talked to you, so he spent most of his time reading you things, or reciting Orlesian poetry. I didnât understand most of it, but it sounded nice.â
Sophia had been delighting in Nostariel's awkward ramblings, but her smile faded somewhat when the topic of Lucien was brought up. She supposed she should have expected it, given how she prodded into Nostariel's own personal affairs, but still the prospect of actually talking about it caught her off guard. If anyone else had asked, she might have politely told them that it had been a difficult time for both of them and she didn't wish to discuss it, but she and Nostariel were close enough of friends to overcome any wariness she had.
"I... don't remember any of that. I wish I did, though." It didn't surprise her that Lucien would not leave her side, or that he would read to her, speak to her, do whatever he thought would help to make her well. That was just the kind of man that he was. And every time she realized she had that kind of affection from him, she felt nervous, light as air, warm, and now... the slightest bit guilty.
"We didn't talk much after I woke, it wasn't long before I needed you. But... I know that I hurt him, with what I did. He forgave me, of course... but I don't think I'm ready to forgive myself just yet." She fixated her eyes on whatever seemed most interesting to look at. Stalls selling wares to nobles who had already forgotten the trouble with the Qunari, patrolling Templars walking the routes that the city guard had once taken care of. She wasn't going to have another breakdown, she knew, and she was glad for that, but this was still a difficult thing to talk about. Next to the deaths of her father and brother, it was high up on the list of things that troubled her. Still, it was better not to keep it bottled inside.
"I know how much he cares, and I know I feel the same, but I'm not sure if it can ever work. Maker knows I want it to. It's like there has always been a wall between us, the complications of our circumstances, everything that has gotten in the way. I'd thought we might have been close, before... but now I just don't know." Lucien's situation had never been ideal, but with time, things seemed to be improving. Her own, she knew, had just become considerably worse. There were things that were expected of her, and they did not include running away from her responsibilities, living a more simple life somewhere with the man she loved, but she could not deny that was her greatest desire. In truth, there seemed to be no right answers.
Nostariel frowned thoughtfully. It was really the opposite problem, wasnât it? Getting to the point of mutually acknowledging what was between them probably wouldnât be all that difficult for Sophia and Lucien. Translating that into some kind of actual relationship would be the tricky part. There were so many barriers in the way of it. Entirely too convoluted, as far as Nostariel was concerned, but that wasnât the fault of either of them. Sheâd had a bit of experience trying to navigate a similar situation, but her solution back then had been to sidestep the station problem by changing her station, an option that wasnât exactly available to them in the same way. It was not a situation she could ever envy. âThatâs⊠certainly not an easy fix.â A grave understatement.
The Warden sighed, and reached her free arm over to pat Sophiaâs hand where it was resting on her other one. âBut really, if there are any two people Iâve ever known who can figure it out, it would be the two of you. I doubt it will be easy, but then⊠that doesnât really seem to be the way any of us do things, especially not you and he. You donât have to figure it out today, at any rate.â She smiled the most encouraging one she had, then turned her attention back to the market stalls. Something smelled absolutely delightful. âA problem we can solve right now is our obvious lack of cookies. My treat.â
No, she didn't want to think about that right now. Any thoughts about what had happened that day brought little but pain, and she'd had just about enough of that for a while. Today would be her first day out and about, she had decided. She wasn't entirely sure if she was ready for that, given that she'd only been able to start moving around the Keep again two days ago, but... she couldn't stand to stay in there for another minute. She avoided the throne room as though it carried a plague, and did the same for Bran, for Meredith, for anyone of note who inevitably desired to ask her about what she planned to do next.
Sophia did not know the answer to that. There were many things that she did not want to do, and taking up her father's rule was right at the top of that list. The discussion of selecting a new Viscount or Viscountess had not even begun among the nobles; all of them seemingly thought that Sophia simply needed some time, and that soon she would settle back down and accept her inheritance. Perhaps they just didn't want to suggest Meredith step down from her position of temporary Stewardess of the city. Sophia could not give them a worthwhile answer one way or the other. Maybe they were right, and she just needed time and distance from recent events, to clear her head, and decide the best way forward.
In any case, it didn't have to happen today. Nostariel was due up to the Keep for a check-in on Sophia's recovery, but by Sophia's understanding of it, the Warden hadn't fared well from the strain, either. Rather than ask her to spend another afternoon expending magical energy she sorely needed to recover, Sophia wondered if they might not take a walk about Hightown instead. Any time out of the Keep would put Sophia in a better mood, she did not doubt, and it would be good to talk with her friend again.
So to that end, the Viscount's daughter, or the Viscountess (the Five-Minute Queen, she'd heard once), or whatever she was now, dressed herself comfortably and pulled her hair back into a ponytail, heading carefully down the steps of the Keep to meet Nostariel at the base, so that she would not need to climb any more for nothing.
Nostariel, as it turned out, still felt a little bit like she was walking on clouds. Not literally, of course, but there was just this lightness to her step that she wasnât sure she could remember having experienced before, like if she wasnât careful, her feet would stop hitting the ground and sheâd just float away somewhere else. She even managed to hum to herselfâsomewhat tunelessly, as it turned outâas she went, aware of the lingering signs of a month ago but resolved for the moment not to let them dampen her mood. There was, she could say from years of experience, plenty of opportunity to be appropriately solemn and sad; opportunities for happiness like this were far fewer, and worth the cherishing.
So she flittedâactually flitted about the clinic that morning, packing a small satchel of things Sophia might need and finishing the last bit of tidying. After all the use theyâd seen, sheâd had to change her tables and countertops, as well as a lot of the rest of her equipment, but fortunately, she had friends who were not bad with such skills as carpentry and whittling, so the clinic might actually look better now than it ever had. It seemed to fit, really.
Twisting her hair into a knot atop her head, she fastened it in place, tied on the Warden sigil, just in case, and swung the light satchel over her back, leaving Oathkeeper and her arrows at home. Her injuries and exhaustion had faded to a dull ache, and for that, exercise was just as good as rest, really, and so she didnât mind the walk up to the Keep at all, breaking out into a wide smile when she saw Sophia already descending the steps. âNow, milady, are you sure your healer would allow you out and about so soon?â The chastening note in the question was entirely for show, and the expression on her face made it rather obvious. Of course, Nostariel did wonder about Sophiaâs current state of mind, considering, but it was unlikely to be something she wanted to talk about at present. There were plenty of other people sure to be reminding her of it at every opportunity. So Nostariel at least would not, not unless Sophia brought it up first.
Part of Sophia was rather tired of being referred to as milady, but the smile on Nostariel's face helped her look past it, and she actually returned it, though her own was not nearly so full. It was good to see her again, looking almost none the worse for wear after all she'd been through during the attack. In fact, the Warden seemed in high spirits, and Sophia imagined that her being up and about once again wasn't the entire cause of that. "The way I see it," she said, reaching out to give Nostariel a hug, "as long as my healer accompanies me on my walk, we shouldn't have any problems." She was glad to see that Nostariel was bouncing back physically. Now she didn't have to feel guilty about leaning on her just a little.
Sliding her arm under Nostariel's, she set out at an easy pace, taking a moment to enjoy just how much more open the air seemed out here than inside the confines of the Keep, lofty as they were. "Really, though, I think I just needed to get out of the Keep for a while. It's not... well, I just needed to get out for a while." There was no good way to describe it, she supposed. It was either a feeling one understood or one that they did not. She wondered if Nostariel had ever felt that way about the Circle, before she'd become a Warden.
"Do you know if the market is open again?" she asked, changing the subject. There had been heavy fighting there, if she recalled correctly, and while Hightown was the first part of the city to have order restored to it by the Templars, many of the merchants were not eager to come out and risk their goods so quickly, with the city guard as depleted as it was.
Nostariel could definitely sympathize, and resolved to keep the topics of conversation well away from anything to do with why it might be that Sophia felt the need to get out for a bit. âMostly, I think. There are a few merchants who might not feel comfortable setting up for a while, but if thereâs one thing Templars are always good at, itâs imposing a sense of order. I suspect most people feel fairly safe by this point.â Sometimes that was a good thing, sometimes not so much, but she restricted her comment to that, because talking about the Templars right now was talking about the state of the city, and it was only going to circle back to unpleasant things eventually. Given how ubiquitous such matters were, thoughâŠ
âWhy do you ask? Have you the sudden desire to peruse exotic silks? Taste the new spice shipments from Antiva? Complain that the Orlesian vintage for sale is clearly not sufficiently aged?â Nostarielâs smile crinkled her eyes at the corners. Minus possibly looking at silk, none of those things were like Sophia in the slightest, and the very mental image of her (mostly) practical friend doing something so frivolous as complaining about the date on a bottle of Orlesian red was rather incongruous. Enough so that she found it funny.
"I've forgotten my jewelry today, I'm afraid," she said, taking up a slightly haughty tone, "I always need my jewelry if I'm going to harass the merchants." She had, of course, never harassed a merchant in her life, as best she could recall, and certainly wouldn't do so over something like a vintage or a shipment of spice. The markets sounded nice, however. Sophia didn't intend on purchasing anything, as she hadn't even brought any money with her today, but if there was a specific place that had the most color and energy in Hightown, it was there. Well, she supposed the Blooming Rose could have it beat, but she wasn't really looking for that kind of color and energy. Mostly she was looking for a place to walk around, where interesting things could catch her eyes.
Nostariel, though... Nostariel was acting strangely, in perhaps the best way possible. Sophia had expected her to still be tired, exhausted even, perhaps in low spirits as well from all that had happened recently, but she was quite the opposite. "You are positively glowing today, you know that?" Her tone was the slightest bit teasing, as she could guess that the good mood wasn't just for her benefit. "I suspect I know what this is about. A certain kiss comes to mind, at any rate." One look at her was enough to confirm that. She hadn't thought much of it at the time, given everything else that was going on, but with some separation from it, Sophia could realize just how much that would mean to Nostariel. She nudged her gently in the ribs with an elbow.
"Let's hear the details, then."
Nostariel coughed off to the side, clearly more than a little abashed by how obvious she was being, but too happy to really do anything about it. Still, when next she lifted her eyes to Sophia, her enthusiasm had contained itself into a smile with a tinge of embarrassment. âIâm being insufferable, arenât I?â She rolled her eyes in a good-natured fashion, and sighed, half from a sort of self-effacement and half⊠well the other half was honest-to-Maker dreaminess, if she was being completely honest. âIt was, um⊠awkward, actually. Though Iâm sure thatâs not hard to guess. I think⊠I think we were both a little⊠wary, maybe. Cautious at the very least. I was admittedly terrified.â A bit like jumping off a cliff without knowing if the drop was two feet or two hundred. A piece of her recent conversation with Lucien came back to mind.
âItâs difficult, not knowing. Even if it seems obvious to everyone else, maybe. I suppose it was obvious, wasnât it?â She wasnât certain she wanted to know how muchâthat might be even more embarrassing in retrospect. All the hedging, the dancing around. A bit silly, now that she knew thereâd been nothing to worry about. Perhaps theyâd each had to come into themselves a little first, but there was nothing much stopping them, afterwards, save their own hesitations.
The two women reached the market proper, the sight of the former Viscountâs daughter arm-in-arm with an elf of all things hardly even registering on the scale of strangeness anymore. Perhaps in another month or two, such things would again be worthy of skeptical sideways looks, but for the moment, everything was a bit too unsettled to lean so heavily on conventions. Or so it seemed to Nostariel. The air in the market was, as it often seemed to be, a little thick with the aromas of some of the wares for sale: perfumes, spices, steel. It wasnât overpowering, but it was easily perceptible. A few of the stands still had damage here or there, but by and large, things were in working order. Merchants could hardly afford extended recovery times, after all.
âBut⊠I suppose I canât regret even that. He was very sweet. I mean, Ash is always sweet, but⊠well.â The Warden colored slightly, shaking her head. âWe went up to a lookout point on Sundermont, you know, view of the whole city. Oh that sounds dreadfully clichĂ©d now that I say it out loud.â The thought amused her more than anything, though. âI asked him⊠how I should take that, you know⊠the kiss. It took us a bit of time, but eventually we wound up in the right place.â Nostariel realized she was rambling somewhat, and perhaps had been doing so for quite some time now, and the permanent smile became apologetic for a moment. âI ah, didn't mean to gush there, sorry.â There was a pause. She wasnât sure how to ask her next question tactfully, so she settled for asking it gently. âDid⊠did Lucien say anything to you, after you woke up? He never left you, you know. I told him it might help you if people talked to you, so he spent most of his time reading you things, or reciting Orlesian poetry. I didnât understand most of it, but it sounded nice.â
Sophia had been delighting in Nostariel's awkward ramblings, but her smile faded somewhat when the topic of Lucien was brought up. She supposed she should have expected it, given how she prodded into Nostariel's own personal affairs, but still the prospect of actually talking about it caught her off guard. If anyone else had asked, she might have politely told them that it had been a difficult time for both of them and she didn't wish to discuss it, but she and Nostariel were close enough of friends to overcome any wariness she had.
"I... don't remember any of that. I wish I did, though." It didn't surprise her that Lucien would not leave her side, or that he would read to her, speak to her, do whatever he thought would help to make her well. That was just the kind of man that he was. And every time she realized she had that kind of affection from him, she felt nervous, light as air, warm, and now... the slightest bit guilty.
"We didn't talk much after I woke, it wasn't long before I needed you. But... I know that I hurt him, with what I did. He forgave me, of course... but I don't think I'm ready to forgive myself just yet." She fixated her eyes on whatever seemed most interesting to look at. Stalls selling wares to nobles who had already forgotten the trouble with the Qunari, patrolling Templars walking the routes that the city guard had once taken care of. She wasn't going to have another breakdown, she knew, and she was glad for that, but this was still a difficult thing to talk about. Next to the deaths of her father and brother, it was high up on the list of things that troubled her. Still, it was better not to keep it bottled inside.
"I know how much he cares, and I know I feel the same, but I'm not sure if it can ever work. Maker knows I want it to. It's like there has always been a wall between us, the complications of our circumstances, everything that has gotten in the way. I'd thought we might have been close, before... but now I just don't know." Lucien's situation had never been ideal, but with time, things seemed to be improving. Her own, she knew, had just become considerably worse. There were things that were expected of her, and they did not include running away from her responsibilities, living a more simple life somewhere with the man she loved, but she could not deny that was her greatest desire. In truth, there seemed to be no right answers.
Nostariel frowned thoughtfully. It was really the opposite problem, wasnât it? Getting to the point of mutually acknowledging what was between them probably wouldnât be all that difficult for Sophia and Lucien. Translating that into some kind of actual relationship would be the tricky part. There were so many barriers in the way of it. Entirely too convoluted, as far as Nostariel was concerned, but that wasnât the fault of either of them. Sheâd had a bit of experience trying to navigate a similar situation, but her solution back then had been to sidestep the station problem by changing her station, an option that wasnât exactly available to them in the same way. It was not a situation she could ever envy. âThatâs⊠certainly not an easy fix.â A grave understatement.
The Warden sighed, and reached her free arm over to pat Sophiaâs hand where it was resting on her other one. âBut really, if there are any two people Iâve ever known who can figure it out, it would be the two of you. I doubt it will be easy, but then⊠that doesnât really seem to be the way any of us do things, especially not you and he. You donât have to figure it out today, at any rate.â She smiled the most encouraging one she had, then turned her attention back to the market stalls. Something smelled absolutely delightful. âA problem we can solve right now is our obvious lack of cookies. My treat.â