Lacking the courage to go straight back to Danarius, Hadriana ordered the bearers to carry her to her favorite tea house, where she demanded a private room and a pot of one of their special blends, one which contained a mild euphoric, guaranteed to lift the spirits when used in moderation. Two pots later, she had recovered enough to snap at the waitresses and shortchange them on the way out. Since she had not dared to keep Hawke's palanquin waiting, she hired one off the street and was borne off to the mage tower she had called home ever since Danarius had agreed to take her on.
The tea, or rather the drug within the tea, had done its work a little too well. It was false confidence which buoyed her on her way. She would tell Danarius she had planned what had happened that day, to lull Hawke into trusting her, the better to ferret out her secrets for his benefit. Yes, that would satisfy him—or it would, once she knew whatever Hawke did—how she had defeated the Qunari, how she manipulated the growth of plants, how to transmute lyrium. That would be a prize worth having! But once she knew whatever that hateful cow knew, would she even need Danarius?
As the rented chair approached the tower, she noticed with disgust that there was a great heap of rubbish in the middle of the street. It looked like a load of second hand clothing and other things intended for some Chantry charity had fallen off a cart or something. There were even people picking through the pile and taking what they wanted. Disgraceful!
Well, here was something she could take care of for Danarius. Whatever had happened, the cart driver should not have gone off leaving everything in the middle of the street for the riff-raff to pick over.
Then she recognized the braided trim on a robe hanging over an old woman's arm. It was hers. All of the things in the street were hers. Word of what had happened had reached Danarius before she did. Rather than bothering to discipline her or even speak to her, he had simply thrown her out.
