Riften's jail was just as dark and oppressive as I remembered from all those months ago. I'd been right, I noted dully as the guard locked the barred door behind me. Being underground did make it far worse. I felt as though I was being shut into a tomb, forever abandoned and forgotten.

"Sorry, milady," the guard said again. "I, er, I hate to be doing this. Wish we had somewhere more comfortable to put you. I know it's cold, I'll bring you some more blankets soon as I can."

He was looking at me with something akin to pity. I didn't understand it. I was an attempted murderer. Why wasn't I being treated with revulsion and scorn? It was what I deserved.

"Thank you — I'm sorry, what was your name? I don't believe we've met."

"Torbjorn," he replied, standing up a bit straighter. "Thank you for asking, milady. I'll be back soon with those blankets. Hold tight milady, I'm sure this will all get cleared up right soon."

He sketched a small bow, then disappeared back the way we'd come.

After several long seconds staring numbly at the empty space in which he'd been standing, I turned my back on the cell's bars and sank onto the narrow cot in the corner. I hugged my knees to my chest and buried my face in them, trying to banish the cage in which I'd been locked.

Far worse lurked behind my eyelids. Flashes of the scene in Sibbi's chambers sprang unbidden to my mind's eye: Sibbi, unlacing his shirt. Sibbi, immobile, blood trickling from his nose. Sibbi, crying. A small red-haired woman, burning white-hot with fury and vengeance; a person I recoiled from and didn't want to recognise as myself.

The memories hurt, but I didn't try to push them away. It was only right that I feel the heavy, shameful pain of the choices I'd made. The person I'd become.

Would Mara still want me as Her champion after this? And what would Mother and Father think of me, when they found out? What would Inigo? I was glad that Saerlund either hadn't found him, or had gone straight to the guards instead. I couldn't bear the thought of Inigo witnessing what had happened in that room.

I huddled in the corner of my cold, dark stone cell, weeping into my knees, and for the first time in my life wished that I could be someone who wasn't me.

In the end it wasn't Torbjorn the guard who brought me extra blankets, but Saerlund.

"Gods, Kirilee, I'm so sorry about this," he said, pushing a large stack of woolen blankets through the bars of the cell. "I came down as soon as I could. Inigo and Meeko will too, once they're allowed — it's all gotten very … complicated. But it'll be sorted out soon, I promise."

"Everyone keeps saying that. That they're sorry, and it'll be sorted out soon. Saerlund, I tried to kill him."

He lifted a finger. "But you didn't."

"But I was going to. I nearly did."

"But you didn't. And he's perfectly fine. The only thing you really hurt was his ego, for which half the city, including me, owes you a drink." He smiled reassuringly.

I hung my head, staring at the folded blankets in my hands. Why was he trying to make me feel better?

Saerlund reached through the bars and placed a hand on my shoulder. "It'll be okay, Kirilee. I promise. And, well, if … if everything goes wrong … you'll notice nobody's thought to put magic-cancelling manacles on you." He raised his eyebrows.

"No!" I gasped. "I couldn't! No, Saerlund. I'll face whatever … whatever is to come. It's no less than I deserve."

Saerlund shook his head but said nothing, only tightening his grip on my shoulder. We stood in silence for a few seconds.

"Is Laila very angry?" I asked softly.

"Er … yes. Yes, quite. But I know her temper, she'll cool down soon enough. Once she's a bit calmer I'll explain everything." He pulled a small time-piece from his pocket. "I'm sorry Kirilee, I've got to go. But this won't be for long. I promise. I'm doing everything I can."

I dropped the blankets and took his hands. "Thank you, Saerlund. I … You're a good friend. Better than I deserve."

His mouth twisted into an odd little half-smile. "Funny. I was going to say the same about you."

By the time Inigo and Meeko were allowed to come see me I was well and truly lost to despair. They found me crouching by the bars where Saerlund had left me, staring vacantly into nothingness, the pile of blankets lying forgotten at my feet.

"Kirilee!" Inigo cried, throwing himself to the ground, while Meeko tried desperately to push through the bars. "My friend. Are you all right? You are unhurt? Moons, I have been so worried!"

"I'm fine," I said, not meeting his eyes.

"You are lying. But this is to be expected. Oh, Kirilee, I am so very happy to see you at last. When Saerlund told me what happened …"

My stomach clenched. "You … you know everything then?"

"Yes." He took my hand and held it. I still couldn't look him in the face. "Do you … want to talk about it?"

I didn't answer. I merely held his hand with both of my own, my fingers running back and forth over his dense fur. Within me warred shame that Inigo should see me so, and overwhelming relief to have him by my side at last.

After a long time, I finally spoke.

"Do you remember how we met?"

"How could I forget? There have been few moments so important in my life. But yes, my friend, the parallel does not escape me." He gripped my hand more tightly.

"This is the same cell."

Inigo's ears shot up. "It is?"

"It is. It's … comforting, in a way. If a small comfort."

A long silence.

"I was going to kill him, Inigo." My voice was barely above a whisper. I stared at the ground. "I wanted him to die. I even started casting the spell to do it. I promised Danica I never would, and I did. I betrayed everything — everyone —"

I'd thought I had no more tears to cry, but I'd been wrong. They stung my eyes as they fell. My body shook with small sobs. I felt so empty.

"Why did you not?" Inigo asked, very gently.

"I … I don't know. Maybe just because I was interrupted."

"No, that is not true. Saerlund told me that you had already stopped whatever you had been doing when the guards arrived. You chose not to go through with it. Why?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to remember again, but forcing myself to.

"He was so frightened," I whispered. "Frightened of me. I hurt him, and he didn't want to be hurt any more. And I … couldn't hurt him any more. I thought of you, and everyone else I love, and I … couldn't."

Inigo reached out with his free hand to cup my face and turn it towards him. His amber eyes held my own, and he spoke very slowly and carefully.

"Kirilee. You could have. This is the very important thing: you could have, and you chose not to. I cannot say that you did not make a mistake, but when the moment came, you chose love and mercy over hatred and revenge. This is the thing that matters. You were pushed to the brink, and you did not step over it. Your kind heart prevailed. You prevailed."

At that, I dissolved into full-throated sobbing. Inigo held me as best he could through the bars of the cell as I rocked back and forth, crying like a lost child. It was a long time before I stopped. But when my tears had finally run dry, and I'd wiped my eyes, and asked Inigo to tell me the story again of how he got his scars … I no longer felt so empty.

Inigo and Meeko left only when Torbjorn apologetically forced them to around midnight, leaving me to a restless sleep and dreams I longed to forget. The next morning I woke bleary-eyed and stiff, hearing jangling keys and the rusty squeak of my cell door opening.

"Saerlund," I croaked, swinging my legs off the side of the narrow cot and rubbing my sandpapery eyes.

He gave me a wan smile. His own eyes were shadowed, with dark circles pooling beneath them. "Good morning, Lady Dobraine. I trust Riften's finest accommodations were to your liking?"

I forced my mouth into something I hoped approximated a smile. "Quite."

"Well, you're free," he said, spreading his arms wide. "Mother cooled off overnight. It helps that Sibbi is, er, hardly her favourite, while you rather … are. Maven's furious, of course, but as there are multiple witnesses who can attest to Sibbi having extended you a standing invitation into his chambers, and given Sibbi's, well, proclivity for rather loosely interpreting what constitutes consent … well. It wasn't too hard to bring Mother around to believing you acted in self-defence. And Sibbi's unhurt, so really, there's very little Maven can actually do about it. For once." His smile broadened.

"Thank you, Saerlund," I said softly. "But you shouldn't have lied. You know it wasn't self-defence."

Saerlund shrugged. "Maybe not. But it was still the right thing for me to do. Inigo told me the whole story, and … well. You may have gone a little … overboard, but Sibbi did murder your friend. It's not fair for you to be in jail and not him."

"Weren't you the one telling me that fair doesn't matter? That it's just how things are?"

Saerlund took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. "Well. Actually …" He glanced over his shoulder, then lowered his voice when he saw Torbjorn had left us in private. "Look. Kirilee. I … I've done a lot of thinking overnight, about everything you've said and done. And everything I've said and done. How I just casually dismissed an assassination attempt on you, the best friend I've had in a long time, because that's just how things are … Gods, Kirilee, I'm so sorry." He pressed his eyes shut for a second, and sucked in another shaky breath. "You're right. You've always been right. I … I can't keep pretending that nobody can do anything. That I can't do anything. Not after seeing how much you, an outsider, have been trying to make things better."

My breath caught. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying … that change does have to start with someone taking that first step. And … if you want to stop Maven. Really stop her. I might have the solution."

He withdrew from his pocket a small bronze key, and held it out to me with a shaking hand.

"Maven has a private room, downstairs in the manor. Nobody ever goes in there but her, and one very old servant, and … occasional guests. Among … other things, there's a safe set in the wall behind a painting of Maven herself. This key opens it. I … I think she keeps documents in there. Secret documents. If there's anything which will constitute irrefutable proof of illegal activity, it'll be in there."

I looked from the unassuming little key to his face: fearful but determined, with the stubborn set of the jaw identical to his mother's.

"Saerlund … How do you know all this?"

He didn't reply. The shame and regret in his eyes told me everything nonetheless.

"Divines," I breathed. "Divines, Saerlund, I'm so sorry. Which one …?"

He dropped his eyes.

Oh.

"Maven herself?"

More silence.

I took the key, then on impulse pulled Saerlund into a hug. "Thank you. Thank you so much. Not just for this, but for everything. I'm so proud of you. You've been so brave."

To my utter shock, Saerlund started to shake in my arms. He was crying.

"B-Brave? Me? I-I've been everything but. I — I c-couldn't — I —"

"Hush. It's okay. I understand." I held him while he wept into my shoulder. "It's not your fault."

He clutched me tightly, his fingers tangling in my hair. Torbjorn appeared around the corner at the noise but withdrew again, wide-eyed, when I shook my head. I didn't know what to say. Poor Saerlund. Poor, poor Saerlund.

"Please," he whispered at last, "don't tell Mother."

"I promise."

I should have been angry, I thought. I should have been furious that Maven had taken even that which should have been beautiful and special from Saerlund, and turned it ugly and shameful. But as I clenched the little key in my hand, holding my crying friend, it wasn't anger or hatred that burned in my breast. It was love, and compassion — and hope.

Just like all those months ago after my very first Riften soiree, Inigo and I made a plan while walking along the shore of Lake Honrich on a carpet of golden aspen leaves. This time, however, it wasn't a plan to survive Maven Black-Briar, but to destroy her.

"You really think this will work?" I asked Inigo anxiously.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps not. But I do not see that we have much choice. We have a very narrow window to act before Madame Maven realises the key is missing and takes steps. This is our best chance, I think."

"You're right. If only we could get hold of some invisibility potions though …" Angeline's Aromatics in Solitude was closed on a Sundas, and we'd decided that we couldn't risk trying to buy any potions in Riften. It would immediately tell Maven exactly what had happened afterwards, as well as put a target firmly on the back of whoever sold them to us — assuming our plan actually worked, of course.

Inigo shrugged. "It cannot be helped. We are just lucky that I am very sneaky even without any magical assistance. You are ready? Shall we head back?"

I wasn't, and didn't think I ever would be, but I set my jaw and firmed my resolve nonetheless.

"Yes." Despite my fluttering nervousness my mouth curved into a grin. "We're doing her a favour, really. Maven's lived here for two decades and probably never had the full Riften experience. After today she'll be able to call herself a true citizen of the Rift."

Half an hour later everything was in place. Inigo and I waited hidden in Black-Briar Manor's garden, near a back entrance Sibbi and Hemming had both told me they used for late night trysts. It had been locked, presumably in response to the events of the day before, but unlocking it with magic had been a simple matter.

I gazed at the manor through the screen of leaves behind which I crouched, trying to still my racing heart and shaking hands. What was usually nothing more than an elegant, perhaps slightly over-ostentatious building housing my least favourite family in Tamriel today seemed an impenetrable fortress, rife with unknowable dangers. For the hundredth time in the last hour I wished I knew a Detect Life spell. It was on the list of spells Viarmo wanted me to learn, but I'd been so busy with my music and spy work that I simply hadn't had the time.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" I whispered to Inigo. "There are so many unknowns. We don't even know how many people are in the house. What if you're caught? I don't think they'd be as lenient with you as with me. Maybe … maybe I should be the one to go in, and you can keep watch." My stomach erupted with even more violent nerves, but I held Inigo's eyes steadily.

Inigo squeezed my hand. "Do not be foolish. I am much better at sneaking than you are. I will be in and out before you even notice I am gone. Besides, you remember what Saerlund said. It is only the servants and Madame Maven herself who go into that part of the house at all. As long as she is away I will be safe. And speaking of which …"

I looked in the direction Inigo was pointing and saw Meeko bounding towards us through the manicured grass. Every Sundas at around this time Maven visited the Temple of Mara for an hour of devotionals. Meeko had been lurking in a nearby alleyway pretending to be a stray, but actually watching for when Maven had left for the temple.

I swallowed sharply. It was time.

Inigo gave my hand one final squeeze then dropped it and fixed his gaze on the manor. The same determined look settled onto his face as when we had delved into Dead Men's Respite, or Orphan Rock, or when he had left the inn in Falkreath to raid the assassins' stronghold. This was Inigo the Brave, my fearless protector who would face any danger to keep me safe.

He turned back to me and his face relaxed into a smile. "Be careful, my friend. And remember, do not summon me out unless you are sure there is no other option. We will not have another chance at this."

"I promise."

One last hug and a pat for Meeko, then we each set off towards our respective positions — Meeko to the back door, me to the front door, and Inigo inside the sabre cat's den itself.

The minutes passed torturously slowly while I loitered near the entrance of the manor. I gripped my arms, and had to forcibly prevent myself from pacing. My stomach roiled; my skin felt itchy. I tried to reassure myself that there was no need to be so nervous. Inigo was certain that slipping into Maven's private room, robbing the safe, returning the key and slipping back out again would take no longer than twenty minutes, while we should have more than a full hour before Maven returned, and Saerlund had told us that that part of the manor was usually deserted. Nevertheless, I couldn't help the lurking certainty that something was going to go wrong. One of the men would decide to visit his mother's hidden room while she was out, or the servant would choose that moment to do a quick tidy and dust, or Maven herself would for some reason come back early from the temple and go straight in through the back door instead of the front, somehow incapacitating Meeko so I didn't know anything had happened until it was far too late … Ever more improbable scenarios chased themselves through my head, until I was so anxious I thought I was going to throw up.

I closed my eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths, counting to ten on each inhale and exhale just as Master Lorent had taught me.

Calm down, I told myself. Calm down, trust your friends, trust your plan. It will be fine. It will be fine.

I felt myself relax, my heartbeat slow, and the knot in my stomach loosen. It would be fine. I was being foolish. There was no reason everything shouldn't go exactly to plan.

Then I opened my eyes to see Maven Black-Briar striding down the street towards me, clearly in a towering temper.

Instantly my heart started beating so hard and fast I thought it might burst out of my chest. My mouth went dry and my breathing was too rapid and shallow; I felt myself growing lightheaded. It was too soon. It was far too soon. Inigo couldn't have been inside more than ten minutes; why was she back already? And what in Oblivion was I going to do?

The forms to summon Inigo sprang into my mind, my first instinct being to pull him to safety. With enormous effort I pushed them away. No. I couldn't. For one, it would be far too suspicious if Inigo were to magically materialise right in front of Maven's nose — perhaps even with the incriminating documents in hand — but just as importantly, Inigo was right. This was our only chance. My only chance. I had no doubt that after what I had done to Sibbi, Maven would already be planning retribution.

There was only one thing to do. I needed to stall her and give Inigo as much time as possible to find and collect what he could.

I forced my breathing to slow and my fists to unclench. I could do this. I'd been born to this; trained to this. If I couldn't win Inigo at least another five minutes I may as well go home to Solitude and tell Viarmo his confidence in me was misplaced, and he'd better find someone else to swan about Skyrim's courts.

I stepped out of the shadows and into the sunlight. Maven stopped in her tracks.

"You."

Her voice was a sabre cat's growl, her eyes those of a predator. I nearly turned tail and ran then and there at the feral expression she wore.

Another second and she was in control once more. She paced forwards until she was a few feet away and stared down her nose at me.

"I distinctly remember telling Laila that if I ever saw you again I'd tear you limb from limb myself. Nobody hurts my children."

A furious rage roared to life within me, leaping from belly to throat with a burning heat. Hurt? I wanted to say to her, You want to talk about hurt? I longed to throw in her face all the hurt she'd caused, to shout at her about gentle Saerlund and sweet Illdi, about mead and misery and murder.

But I didn't. I forced away the anger and pushed it deep inside me. When had acting on my unbridled emotions ever worked out well? Yesterday's lesson was still fresh in my mind. I needed to do better than surrendering to righteous fury if I was to win this battle.

So I drew forth the shame and regret which had been lurking just below my consciousness all day and wore them, instead. My face fell, becoming meek and timid. I dropped into a clumsy curtsey made difficult by my narrow-skirted linen day dress. It was rumpled from its second day of wear and still smelled musty from the dungeon. I hoped it would add to the dejected picture of a miserable, frightened young girl come to make amends.

"I'm sorry, Lady Black-Briar," I said, dropping my eyes. "I know you're very angry, but I just had to come and see you."

"And why is that, girl?"

'Girl' and not 'Lady Dobraine', I noted. She really was confident in her power. With any luck, that wouldn't hold for much longer. If I could just keep her from walking through that front door.

"To apologise."

I carefully lifted my eyes from her polished leather shoes, up her immaculately tailored navy blue gown and let them rest on her face. Her mouth was pulled into a thin line. I met her own eyes for a second then dropped my gaze, the hesitant glance of a child who had done wrong, and knew it.

"Well?" she said.

"I … I'm terribly sorry, Lady Black-Briar. For barging into your home, and … and assaulting your son." I swallowed. "It was the worst choice I've ever made. The worst thing I've ever done in my life. I regret it terribly."

My voice trembled. It wasn't feigned emotion, and it wasn't a false apology. What I'd done had been wrong, and whatever else happened, I owed it to both Maven and Sibbi to tell them so.

Maven hadn't said anything for several long seconds. I chanced a glance back up from her shoes. She was eyeing me consideringly.

"You actually are, aren't you? My, my. You're even weaker than I thought. Imagine regretting taking action against the man who killed your friend. Yes, girl, I know who that boy was to you," she said, seeing the surge of heat to my face. "I'd wondered for some time how you could stomach Sibbi's advances, knowing what he'd done. It seems my initial assessment was correct, even if not all of my assumptions were. You're simply a snivelling little girl-child, too weak and pathetic to stand up for what matters to you. No wonder you couldn't take the pressure of rule."

I clenched my teeth and let her words wash over me. The longer she monologued about my perceived failings, the longer Inigo had to get into the safe and get out. How long had it been since we'd started talking? It was difficult to gauge the passage of time with my emotions so high.

"So, learning to guard your tongue at last," she said. "I suppose even a dull child will learn a lesson when it's been taught to her a sufficient number of times. Your apology is noted. Now get out of my way. I have a letter to draft to the Head Priest regarding the oversight of Riften's temple. I hope you're not too attached to that long-eared bitch."

Not yet! Inigo needs more time!

"Ah — wait. I'm not finished yet. I, ah, also wanted to apologise to you. Personally."

She arched an eyebrow.

"Yes." My heart thudded. Try as I might, I couldn't stop my hands from trembling, so I tucked them behind my back, hoping it would add to the image of a frightened schoolgirl. "I've realised that since arriving in Skyrim I've treated you very unfairly. I thought you were bad for the city and its people; I even tried to complain to Laila once …"

"I am aware," she said through a thin-lipped, humourless smile.

"Well. In the time since I've realised I was wrong about you after all. Not just wrong — jealous." I swallowed. My throat was very dry. "You're right, you see. I'm … I've lived a very sheltered life. I arrived here full of naive idealism … but really, as you said, it was weakness. I wasn't strong enough to live up to my responsibilities back home, and ran away here. And when I got here, I — I saw in you a woman who was everything I wasn't. Strong, capable, powerful. Ruling from behind the throne. Needing nobody; beholden to nobody. I envied that, and you. I wanted to be like you and couldn't. That's why I tried to guide Saerlund towards making changes in Riften. I thought I could … could learn to be like you, even just a little bit."

Maven's eyes had narrowed as I talked until they were little more than slits. I cringed. Had I overdone it?

She sniffed. "If that little speech was meant to endear yourself to me, consider it wasted words. Flattery will win you no favours. Pretty words won't make me forget you attacked my son." Though nothing about her posture changed, suddenly she veritably crackled with radiated power and authority. "I will say this once: leave my city, never return, and for Laila's sake I will let you live your simpering little life out in peace, so long as you never cross me again."

Just a little more time … just a little more …

"Otherwise?"

Turning away from me to the door, she spoke over her shoulder. "Do you really think I'm stupid enough to speak a threat out loud to a duke's daughter, even one as vapid as yourself? Otherwise, girl? Otherwise, you might one day simply wish you'd listened to my advice after all."

The door swung open and she stepped through it without another word. My heart racing, I hurried around the corner and into an alley.

"Please," I muttered aloud, crossing my fingers, "please let it have been long enough …"

How long would it take her to get to the downstairs room? She'd said she was going to write a letter — would she do that there, or somewhere different? Would she first change in her chambers into something more comfortable?

I paced up and down the alleyway. It had been perhaps fifteen minutes since Inigo had entered the manor, and he'd said he needed twenty. My hands ran through my hair over and over again. Only if absolutely necessary, he'd said. Well, it was necessary now.

Thirty seconds. I'd give it thiry more seconds, then summon him.

One, two, three …

I closed my eyes. Would he have found the safe? Would it even have had anything in it?

… eight, nine, ten …

What if there wasn't anything? Saerlund hadn't been sure; he'd merely said that if there was anything, that was where it would be.

… fifteen, sixteen, seventeen …

What if he was already captured?

My eyes sprang open. I couldn't wait any longer.

The forms appeared in my mind, and I strung them together to cast — only to be startled by a hand falling on my shoulder. Heart pounding, I wheeled around.

It was Inigo, wearing an enormous grin, and clutching a small stack of notebooks and papers. Meeko was at his heels, his tail wagging furiously.

My heart leapt.

"We have her," he said.

As soon as we arrived back in Solitude I headed straight for the College at a dead run, clutching the bag containing the precious documents to my chest. I was expecting to arrive to see the festival in full swing, and was already planning ways to surreptitiously draw Viarmo away, but the courtyard was empty of all save a flock of pigeons. It must have been held the previous day, then — it was too much to hope for that it had been cancelled altogether.

I stopped outside the front door, hot-faced and panting. Before entering I shut my eyes for a few moments to gather my thoughts and calm my breathing. It would do nobody any favours for me to arrive in Viarmo's office a gibbering mess, or so out of breath I couldn't even speak.

I took a deep breath, triple checked the documents were safe in my bag, and entered.

Inside, too, the College had the echoing emptiness typical of weekends. The weather was particularly fine with summer just around the corner, and I could hear even fewer scales than usual from the practice rooms. Luckily, however, Viarmo hadn't been enticed outside by the glorious late spring day, though from the sallow cast of his skin I rather thought it would have done him good.

Viarmo's eyes narrowed as I entered the room. "I've had a bird from Laila."

Of course he had. "I know. I'm sorry. I lost control. It … won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't."

"Yes, sir."

Silence stretched between us, tight and taut. Finally he shook his head, looking suddenly much older and more tired.

"No, Kirilee. I'm sorry. I knew how far I was pushing you, how close you were to breaking — I should have foreseen something like this happening. This is on me."

I blinked. "Sir?"

"You heard me. This was my fault. If I hadn't been so … but never mind. It's just lucky for all of us that you've got such a gods-damned sunny personality."

"Um. Yes, sir. Good friends are a true blessing."

He sighed. "You're not wrong. But why are you looking so damn excited all of a sudden?"

Instead of answering, I pulled the stack of documents from my bag and set them on the desk between us. My hands were trembling.

"Have a look at these, sir."

For once, Viarmo's own emotions showed as plainly as mine. Curiosity turned to outright astonishment, followed by gleeful delight — a very peculiar expression on the old mer's face. He looked as though he might kiss me.

"Kirilee! This — these — where did you get these?"

I filled him in on everything: Sibbi, and Saerlund, and everything that had happened in Black-Briar Manor that weekend.

"Saerlund's information was good," I said. "Inigo found these in the safe behind the portrait. That book in your hand, that's a ledger detailing almost two decades' worth of dealings with the Thieves' Guild. Including multiple instances of racketeering, often with their help, you'll see. What happened to Honningbrew was only the tip of the iceberg."

"This is perfect," he said, examining the slim volume as though all his Saturalias had come at once. "We've got her, kid. You've done it. This is the final nail in the coffin of Maven Black-Briar." He grinned at me, and his golden eyes gleamed. "That bitch is finished."