He makes a mental note to consult Dorian about the wine. His palate is more refined. No one strictly has to know that the requested bottle isn't for his own enjoyment. He tells himself that if she is a spy, there's a chance kinder treatment could incline her toward less mischief. As he says it to himself, he knows it's not his true motivation. Sussing out what is is proving to be more difficult.

"We don't really do that sort of thing anymore when we can help it." Abominations still must be put down, but the treatment of mages, well. Under Cassandra as Divine Victoria, he has a feeling that will change for the better.

"Yes, Cullen." He nods. "The guards shouldn't be speaking of me at all in your earshot." Several someones are going to get a dressing down tonight. As they turn down another corridor, two guards flanking a door come into view.

"Ah, here we are." He takes her the rest of the way to reveal a small room without a window, but decently lit and decently appointed, with a small fireplace and a supply of wood, a seating area with a little round table, a feather bed, a washstand and basin, and a tub big enough to sit up in but not spread out. It's painted eggshell blue and colorful, the rug on the floor plush. One small shelf contains several books.