Cullen takes the key from the guard and unlocks the cell, the rusty hinges squeaking when he swings open the door and steps back. True to his word, once she joins him in the corridor, he offers his arm properly. It isn't entirely gallantry. The last thing they want are rumors running rife of strange prisoners being moved mysteriously through the palace. If she looks like a guest, it might not totally cut off talk. It will make it less alarmist talk.

He holds his silence and a pleasant expression when escorting her where others can see. Only when they reach the interior guest wing and can be sure others aren't close enough to eavesdrop does he break it. "The Winter Palace is known for its hospitality. You've managed a good time to be captured. The food is much more varied than it would be at other times."

He doesn't know how she feels about Orlesian fare. He's not a fan and plans to ensure she is offered some choice for the duration of her stay. "If you have questions of the sort it wouldn't typically be dangerous for someone to answer, I'll indulge."

Up close, he still smells faintly of oakmoss and elder flower. It is largely overpowered now by leather and silverite, plus the faint fur scent that always clings to his mantle.