"I could guess, but I don't think that will serve us."

Maybe it's a shrewd guess, maybe it's even correct, but they won't know for certain. His thumb runs gently over her knuckles and back.

"I think there need not be conflict," is a speculative thought. "Ferelden cherishes it's independence. There's some common ground there, but with Rutyer..."

It's not so simple as common cause. The man balks at things. John had seen his unease when they'd spoken of the Chantry, had taken note of his response in the wake of the abomination. And even without any of those aspects, there is the difficulty of how limited Byerly's view can be. John sighs, shakes his head.

"I intend to try harder with him."