“I have been led to believe that giving such constructs what they wish of you is unwise, in Thedas.” Despite herself, she cannot quite help the faint smile that Davidias' visible consternation produces— her hand falls away from the obelisk and she lifts her skirts enough not to trip on them as she steps up out of the pyre-pit.

She averts her gaze from him to Bastien. The shrug is elegant,

“Thedas has shown me such things before. Madame d'Asgard witnessed my death. Enchanter Julius, an imagined end for my queensguard,” a tip of her head, “at the hands of my husband. Miss Jones, upon the same occasion, was told quite a tale by his shade—though he did not mention my death, nor his part in it.”

She says, “I am as much a ghost as they. I think it would be different, if I were newer, or imagined that the Fade might send me to anything but wherever that body I remember was interred.”