Meredith would want the accomplice brought in for questioning. She would want them spilling their guts and swearing sideways that they were innocent, all the while giving up anyone else who was aware of Quentin's whereabouts. And, logically, she wanted that too. If he came to her with information, she should cooperate and help them. She would want to. "You wouldn't want me to be there when we find them, Cullen," she said quietly.

"Whether it's your job or not, I don't simply let people look after my sister." As if she had a say in the matter now. "But I trust you."

She had heard about the lyrium addiction. Aveline had mentioned it in passing, a topic she never liked to discuss, and her father had spoken of it a few times when she was old enough to understand what that meant. But she had never seen it personally. What he was describing sounded more like old age than the side effects of a magical substance.

Her lips twisted in thought. "He didn't seem that far gone to me." Hawke brought one of her knees to her chest and wrapped an arm loosely around her leg, watching him. "He could have just as easily been wrong and he certainly wished he was. Don't blame yourself or your fellow Templars for it."