I had mixed feelings about the end of my residency in Riften. On the one hand, my first official appointment as a court-bard had truly felt like a measure of real success I had won for myself, and a taste of the life I was working towards. I had felt very grown up, and like a real professional musician. On the other hand, just as I'd feared, I'd hardly been allowed to actually be a court-bard ever since Laila had learned of my true identity. I longed to return to my real life, though I couldn't help worrying that I'd return home to find everything changed there too. Even more than my fears about how my friends would react to learning who I really was and that I'd been lying by omission for months, the prospect of facing Felix hung over me like a headsman's axe.

About leaving Riften, too, I was ambivalent: I finally felt like with Saerlund I'd been helping to bring about real and lasting change not just to him but to the city itself, and I hated to leave what I'd started unfinished. However, as I kept reminding myself, Riften was Saerlund's city, not mine. I had to trust that the seeds I'd planted would take root, and one day bear fruit. I was hopeful. Saerlund had thrown himself into helping the orphanage with zeal, and I was sure that he would do more for the rest of the city as well, if and when he had the resources to do so. It might have been my imagination, but I thought that since the revelation of my identity Laila had perhaps been a bit warmer towards her younger son.

Saerlund seemed hopeful of this too. "She actually asked me if I'd come to your farewell dinner tonight," he said over his shoulder. He was leaning over a travelling trunk into which he was placing carefully folded doublets and socks. "But I told her I had to take a morning carriage if I'm to be in Solitude by the time you arrive tomorrow evening. She was actually rather put out I couldn't make it, I think!"

A boyish smile lit up his features, and I couldn't help smiling in response. No matter how much came between them, I didn't think a child could ever truly stop wanting the approval of their parent.

"What did she think of your trip?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"She thinks it's a good idea — or at least, she didn't object. While I'm not sure she really believes that Solitude is the safest city in Skyrim, or that Whiterun is much more prosperous than Riften even with the war, she certainly admitted the merit in travelling to other cities and trying to learn from how they're governed. She even expressed some regret that she couldn't come too, if you can believe it."

"I can." I smiled. "Your mother has a good heart, Saerlund."

He froze, a half-folded pair of breeches in hand. After a moment's pause he relaxed again with a slump. "You know, I think you're right. Which makes it all that much harder."

"Perhaps this will help mend bridges between you?"

"Perhaps … though it's hard to ignore the mammoth in the room, isn't it? But perhaps with your influence and mine she might begin to rethink her position on the war …"

I only shrugged, though this had been a secret hope of mine, too. I wasn't sure what Viarmo's plans were for Saerlund, but I couldn't help hoping for a happy ending in Riften not just for the Empire, but for the whole Law-Giver family. However, as a member of the College I was officially neutral, and couldn't openly support one side or another. It had been a delicate dance, trying to nudge Laila towards a more favourable view of the Empire and unfavourable view of the Stormcloaks without seeming to do anything of the sort. Whether I'd been at all successful, I had no idea.

"In any case, it will be lovely to have you come visit for a little while," I said instead.

That same boyish smile spread across Saerlund's face again. "It will. I'm ever so looking forward to it."

My final night in Riften was accompanied by a great deal of pomp and panoply. Laila had ordered Anuriel to organise a formal five-course dinner, much to her steward's obvious annoyance. All of Riften's prominent nobles were invited, including the Black-Briars, to my own chagrin. I was the guest of honour, seated at Laila's right, which meant I was sitting directly opposite Maven herself.

Luckily, I'd had a lot of practice over the past weeks in maintaining a bland and placid countenance in the face of the people in Skyrim I loathed most. It was almost fun, watching Hemming preening at my polite courtesy, which he naturally interpreted as fawning interest. More than once I saw Ingun snort into her soup, and at one point when her mother and brothers were distracted talking to Laila she shot me a tiny smile and wink across the table. I'd not had much to do with Ingun, as her interests ran to alchemy and study rather than the family business, and I found myself wondering whether she was perhaps not as bad as the rest of her family — or whether she was instead like the city of Markarth, with beauty and gloss on the surface hiding a crushing darkness underneath.

I tried to pay attention to the conversations swirling around me, but I found it difficult to concentrate. For once, it wasn't ruminations about Felix distracting me. The next morning Inigo and I would be collecting Aventus from the orphanage and taking him home.

"You seem in extraordinarily high spirits, Lady Dobraine," Maven remarked down her nose over pudding.

"What can I say?" I replied. "I'm simply enjoying the fine company. To your health." I lifted my goblet and inclined my head towards her.

Maven's eyes narrowed slightly, but she made no further comment. Inwardly, I burned with triumph. Matriarch of Riften she may be, with the entire city downtrodden under her polished boots, but perhaps not for good. Things were beginning to change. Aventus was going home.

The next morning when I arrived at the orphanage Aventus was sitting by the door, bag already packed, fast asleep.

"He's been there all night," Constance said in a whisper while bundling up a parcel of bread, cheese and leathery winter apples for his breakfast. "Wouldn't hear otherwise. Insisted he'd be ready to go the moment you arrived, the dear." She smiled at him fondly. "I'll miss him, but it's wonderful to see him go home. He's the first, you know."

I frowned. Constance had told me on a previous visit that Grelod hadn't allowed adoption, instead using the children as free labour for menial tasks for which she pocketed the pay. She'd claimed it was only her due. When the children did age out of the orphanage they'd almost always ended up in the Thieves' Guild, apparently — those that even survived to the age of sixteen. Aventus hadn't been wrong about children sometimes disappearing and never being seen again.

"The first of many," I said firmly.

"Yes," she replied. "That Lord Saerlund's a treasure, isn't he? He's been such a help. And his adoption campaign! We've even started getting enquiries from Whiterun and Rorikstead! And he's talking about getting some of the street urchins in here, once there's space … oh, my Lady. There's hope again."

I beamed. Saerlund had come such a long way so quickly.

Aventus jumped like a jack-rabbit when Constance touched him on the shoulder, his eyes red with lack of sleep, an enormous toothy grin splitting his face wide open.

"Is it time? Are we going home?"

"We are."

I didn't think it was possible for his smile to grow even wider, but somehow he managed it. Then, after graciously tolerating a long and slightly teary hug from Constance, we were off.

"Don't you want to say goodbye to your friends?" I asked as we walked through the marketplace. It was early enough that the streets were still quiet and the air cool, though the rays of morning sun were rich and golden and promised a dazzling spring day ahead.

"I already did, yesterday. Where's Inigo and Meeko? En't they coming?"

"They're at the carriage already."

"Oh, good! I like them. Meeko's the best dog ever, en't he? D'you reckon Inigo could teach me how to use a sword? If he's teaching that girl already I bet it wouldn't be too hard to teach me too. You will all come visit me'n Uncle Angrenor, won't you?"

Aventus kept up his excited prattle all the way to the carriage, then after a brief break for a welcoming whoop for Inigo and a thorough patting for Meeko, all the way to Windhelm. As we rode through the ever-golden forests of the Rift — Aventus so excited Meeko had to sprawl across his lap so he wouldn't fall out of the carriage — I was overcome by a complete and utter contentment. The sun was warm and syrupy as Illdi's parents' honey, the breeze was sweetened with fragrant spring flowers and joyous birdsong, and we were doing something good and right. This was far too special to spoil by worrying about Felix.

The air grew increasingly chilly as we rode north, until by Windhelm we were pulling on cloaks and gloves. Aventus was nearly vibrating with excitement, which shifted into a nervous restlessness as we crossed the broad Windhelm bridge on foot. Just in front of the towering city gates he stopped us, biting his lip and looking a little anxious.

"Um, Miss Kirilee. I was wondering … d'you think it'd be all right … could Sofie maybe come live with us too? There's lots of space, if it's only me'n Uncle Angrenor. And Sofie's all alone, and en't got anywhere to sleep at night, and Windhelm's so cold. And I really like her, she's my friend. Can my house be her house too? Would that be all right?"

"Of course." I smiled, and my heart swelled. "It's your house, and if you'd like to share it with Sofie, that's what we'll do. It's a very selfless and mature choice, Aventus. I'm impressed."

Inigo ruffled his hair proudly. Aventus stood up very straight and looked incredibly pleased with himself.

Sofie the little flower-girl was even more gobsmacked than Aventus had been. She wouldn't believe what we were telling her — Aventus had to repeat his offer three times before she'd accept it wasn't a trick. When she finally realised it was real she dropped her basket of flowers and burst into tears, then threw her arms around Aventus' neck and sobbed into his shoulder. He looked absolutely terrified, but with some encouragement from Inigo hugged her awkwardly and patted her on the back, her fine blonde hair catching on his gloves.

Angrenor was delighted to see Aventus and Sofie both. "I were going to suggest we take the little lass in too, milady, but I didn't want to overstep," he said in a low voice, while we watched the children thunder around their new home and exclaim delightedly at each piece of furniture.

I shook my head. "I'm not in charge here, Angrenor. Neither is Father, really. This is your home, and theirs. I'm only here to make sure you can all live how you please without interference."

Angrenor went very red and muttered something I couldn't quite make out. Inigo, however, grinned broadly.

We spent the afternoon together, sharing in the warmth of Aventus' cosy hearth and the warmth filling our hearts. Angrenor cooked a slaughterfish soup for lunch, which was quite as good as Corpulus' own.

"Arr, 'tain't hard to make, milady," he said, after I'd told him so. "You've just gotta remember to take out the mud vein. Real simple recipe otherwise. Gotta be, for a soldier's meal."

Shifting uncomfortably, I took an extra large spoonful of soup to save myself from replying. I never liked being reminded of Angrenor's past in the Stormcloaks.

"You were a soldier?" Sofie asked. She had a remarkably beautiful speaking voice, soft and gentle as raindrops on petals.

"Aye."

Her face clouded. "I'm glad you're not any more. It's … You're safer here. Nobody should be a soldier."

"It'd be brilliant, I reckon," Aventus said, going up on his elbows. He'd already finished his soup, and was lying on his belly on the floor, playing with Meeko. "But I reckon being an assassin would be even better! Don't you think so, Inigo?" Sofie stared at him, appalled.

Inigo just shook his head. "No, Aventus. We have spoken of this before, yes? It is not a good path."

Aventus shrugged and returned his attention to Meeko, while I made a face at Inigo over my soup. He'd grow out of it, surely.

I settled back into my chair, my awareness drifting in the warm, sleepy room. Aventus was now pestering Inigo for adventuring stories while Angrenor insisted Sofie eat another bowl of soup. She was very thin. Closing my eyes, I breathed in deeply. I felt so happy and proud and fulfilled — I'd really made a difference. Three people's lives were better now because of choices I'd made. Nothing had ever made me feel quite so good. I could understand a bit better now what gave Father so much satisfaction in his work and in his position as Duke. Using one's wealth and position to improve the lives of those with less … it was intoxicating, in a way.

Next to the rich draught of joy and pride filling me, the actions of a petty and stupid boy didn't seem very important at all, any more. This was important. And to think he'd told me it wasn't my problem and I should just let it be!

I pushed the bitter thoughts away. No, I wouldn't spoil this with feelings of resentment. Felix wouldn't ruin this for me. I would enjoy this perfect moment, in which everything had come together to make something whole and beautiful, while it lasted — after all, in just a few short hours we would be returning to Solitude, where I was sure things would not be so simple, or so sweet.

We met a tired but bright-eyed Saerlund at the Solitude carriage station as the sun was setting. He was searching for a porter to carry his rather excessively full travelling trunk, but I shook my head and shot him a wink, then cast a Feather spell. Load suitably lightened, we set off up the steep hill towards the upper city together.

"Handy spell, that," he said. "Never could get the hang of any magic. Not that I tried particularly hard — not an appropriate pastime for a jarl's son, and so on."

"It is quite useful," I replied, "but by the Divines, Saerlund, how many doublets did you pack? Aren't you only staying in the city for a few days?"

"You brought at least as much with you to Riften!" Saerlund puffed, clutching a stitch in his side. Inigo smirked.

I lifted my chin while pointedly not thinking of the enormous pile of luggage I'd already dropped off at home. "Yes, well, I was in Riften for weeks. And I have all those gowns — what's your excuse?"

"Just because I'm not of the fairer sex, it doesn't mean I'm a barbarian, Kirilee. A gentleman must prepare to dress appropriately for any occasion."

I grinned. I supposed he had a point, at that.

The closer we got to the Skeever the more my excitement turned to dread. By the time we were inside the upper city gates I was trembling. Meeko pressed his warm bulk against my hip and Inigo watched me with concern, but Saerlund thankfully seemed too distracted mentally cataloguing his impressions of Solitude to notice.

I pushed open the door and there he was, directly opposite me, not ten feet away. He looked up, and our eyes met, and for a moment I saw sorrow and regret and an unsaid apology, and I thought that perhaps everything would be all right after all … but then his eyes moved to Saerlund, who was adjusting his lace-trimmed doublet with one hand and smoothing his moustache with the other. Felix's face hardened, and his expression was a terrible thing to behold. For the first time, I was frightened of him. Then a moment later that was wiped away too, to be replaced by a mask of polite indifference.

Inigo had clearly noticed; I could hear him breathing hard behind me. As for Saerlund?

"Goodness, this is the famous Winking Skeever, is it? How exciting! I've always wondered what it's like to stay in an inn!"

Felix disappeared out the back, and a moment later a beaming Corpulus emerged. By his face I could tell that here, too, the news of my identity had quickly spread. I took a deep breath.

"Larkling! You're back! Or should I say — Lady Larkling?" He winked, and I smiled weakly in response. The line was becoming rather tiresome.

He pulled me into a hug, then held me at arm's length, smiling proudly. "I always knew there was something special about you."

The smile on my face became fixed. There it was.

I didn't have time to dwell on it, however, because in the next moment Corpulus was asking to be introduced to my 'fine young friend', which was followed by the business of booking Saerlund the best room in the inn, then offering him a number of options for supper — I sighed, and let my eyes wander around the common room as they talked. Just as I'd expected, avid stares quickly dropped as my gaze fell on people who'd seen me perform nearly every day for the past six months, and hissed whispers were audible even over Lisette's lute. Lisette, for her part, met my miserable eyes with nothing more than a cheery smile and a nod, no different than any of the hundreds of other times she'd greeted me. The knot in my chest loosened a little.

"Are you all right?" Inigo asked, his voice low.

Felix's cold stare appeared unbidden in my head. "I'm okay," I said. Inigo squeezed my shoulder, then pointed to an empty table.

I sank into a seat and rested my forehead on the polished wood. Divines. It was happening, just as I'd feared.

"Kirilee? What's wrong?" came Saerlund's hesitant voice from my right.

I straightened up and pushed the hair out of my face. "Don't worry about it. I just … No. It was a stupid thing to hope for." I wasn't sure whether I was referring to Felix or Corpulus or the rest of the inn.

"I don't understand. Was it that man? Oh! You said you had a beau working here, right? Was that … Oh." He swallowed. "I see. Well. At least everyone else in the inn seems delighted to see you? Goodness, Kirilee, I've never seen one person lift a place's atmosphere so much. You're clearly very well-liked here."

I tried hard not to frown. "That's part of the problem, Saerlund. This is the first time I've come in here since my true identity's been made public. That's why they're acting that way. I … I wanted to stay just Kirilee, the bard."

"Erm … I don't mean to be contrary, but that's not it," he said, his brows drawing together. "I've seen how people respond to the novelty of nobility. That's not it. Or at least, not just it. These people genuinely care for you. I mean, yes, they're excited to learn you were secretly a duchess-in-waiting this whole time, of course, but can you blame them? It's like something out of a story-book. I'm still getting to grips with it myself, and I've spent the last four weeks becoming intimately acquainted with all your annoying habits."

"I don't have annoying habits," I muttered, my face heating. I lowered my eyes.

"He is right," Inigo said, taking my hand. "They may find the prospect of you being High Rock nobility thrilling, but only because you won their hearts first. As just you."

"R-Really?" I lifted my eyes to Inigo's, hardly daring to breathe.

"Certainly," Saerlund said. "I assure you."

The tension left my shoulders and I relaxed into a smile. "Thank you both." Suddenly the inn felt ten times warmer and more welcoming, and for just a moment, I was glad to be home.

Then Felix came over to our table.

I braced myself, and opened my mouth, still unsure of just what I was going to say — but Felix got there first.

"Good evening, Lady Dobraine! I trust you've had a pleasant time away. Can I offer you a meal, or some ale?" His mouth pulled into a brittle smile, and he continued in the same jolly voice, "Oh! I'm dreadfully sorry, I forgot, you prefer wine, don't you? It's tricky to keep track of all our regulars' usual orders. I apologise."

I stared at him, my lips still loosely parted. Tears sprang into my eyes. I'd expected coldness, or anger, or hurt — though part of me had still hoped for gentleness, and reconciliation — but this? What in Oblivion was he playing at?

"What about you, Master Inigo? While the Lady's deciding? I'm afraid we don't have any mouse on the menu tonight, but we can rustle up some salmon, perhaps?" He chuckled to himself.

Saerlund was looking from Felix to me to Inigo in utter bewilderment. Inigo's tail twitched dangerously, and I could tell he was working hard to keep his anger contained.

"No, thank you, Master Vinius," Inigo replied flatly. "We are fine. We will speak to your father if we require anything."

Felix gave a little mock bow, his smile now a horrific rictus. "As the Lady and her entourage wishes."

"Kirilee? What was that about? Are you … all right?" Saerlund said, tearing his horrified eyes from Felix's retreating form.

"I'm fine," I said thickly, dashing my eyes on my sleeve.

But I wasn't. Of course I wasn't. And I only became less and less fine as the night wore on. I soon paid little mind to whether my friends and acquaintances were treating me any differently in the face of how Felix was treating me. His mask of forced heartiness and joviality didn't slip once, and he persisted in speaking to me as though we were little more than strangers, though mostly he didn't speak to me at all. It was unnerving. Insulting. My hurt soon shifted into anger, then outright disgust at his childish cowardice.

As if that hadn't been bad enough, while Felix barely spoke to me, he certainly spoke a great deal to others. He flirted loudly — and to be frank, embarrassingly poorly — with almost every woman in the inn that night, ending up with a delighted Fironet hanging off his arm.

While presumably for my benefit, Inigo, Saerlund and I were hardly the only ones to notice. Lisette was giving Felix a furious cold shoulder, while shooting me encouraging smiles whenever she looked up from her lute. Nythriel seemed torn between being scandalised and delighted. Corpulus stood behind the bar, arms folded, watching his son with an ever-darkening expression.

As for me? I was shaking so hard with anger I slopped wine from my goblet into my lap, and leapt out of my seat with a curse — just as Minette wandered into the common room. She took in the scene with a stricken expression on her young face — me, furious, dripping with wine; Felix, smirking, Fironet stroking his arm — then dashed out again. Even from across the room I could see the tears sparkling in her eyes.

"Hold this," I muttered, thrusting my half-empty goblet at Inigo, and hurried after her, ignoring the spreading winestain on my breeches.

I found Minette in the alley behind the inn, sitting in the dark and poking at the cobblestones with a stick. Her cheeks glistened in the light of the moons overhead.

"Minette?" I said softly.

She startled, and her stick snapped with a loud crack that rang in the still air.

I conjured a Candlelight. "Sorry — I didn't mean to —"

But her eyes were filling with tears again; her narrow shoulders were shaking. She drew her knees up to her chest as though trying to make herself as small as possible. My heart ached.

I sat down next to her and carefully put my arm around her shoulders. She didn't shrug it off, which I took as a good sign.

"Minette."

Silence.

"Minette, I'm sorry. I … I don't know why Felix is acting like he is right now. But I guess it means that things … probably aren't going to work out between us. I'm sorry."

She bundled in even smaller on herself.

"I wanted them to," I continued. "I really did. I'm sure he did too. But a very wise woman told me recently that not all love is meant to last forever, and that it doesn't mean it wasn't worthwhile. Mostly though," — I drew her closer — "while I know this must be very difficult for you, I … I really hope it doesn't affect our relationship any more than it has to. You're very important to me, Minette."

At this the tears she'd been trying to hold back burst forth, and she threw her arms around me. Her whole body heaved.

"I-I-I, I thought — I thought — I thought you were going to be my sister," she sobbed. I could barely make out the words through her tears. "I, I always wanted a sister. And first S-Sorex, now Felix … I hoped … and with Sorex gone … I — I —"

I hugged her fiercely back, tears welling in my own eyes. "I always wanted a sister too," I said. "I grew up an only child, did I tell you? I always longed for and dreamed and imagined that I had a little sister to play with and teach and love — someone just like you, Minette. Since I moved here I've come to love you exactly like the little sister I never had. I still do. And I always will, no matter how I feel about anyone else in your family."

Minette clutched me tightly. We held each other in that dingy alley for a long time, until her sobs had subsided to hiccups, and finally to nothing. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and looked up at me with red-rimmed brown eyes, so very like her brother's.

"Promise? You won't … leave?"

"I promise."

She nodded seriously, then stared at the ground for a time. When she looked back up her eyes were clearer, though now a little wary, almost hesitant.

"Are you really a lady?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Oh." Another long silence. "… Can I still ride Talara?"

"Of course."

"Oh. Okay. Well, I guess that's all right then." She stood up and brushed herself off, then held out her hand. "I'm reading a really good book right now. It's about a girl who goes on lots of adventures. She's a lady in disguise too, but a shieldmaiden not a bard, and she falls in love with another shieldmaiden, not an innkeeper-slash-blacksmith. I haven't finished yet so I don't know whether they end up together, but I hope so. I really like it. Do you want to come up and see?"

I took her hand. I did.