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rose_in_winterCharacters: Fenris, Mage Female Hawke, Sebastian Vael (Fenris/f!Hawke/Sebastian)
Rating: NC-17
Contains: Canon-typical violence, explicit sex
Fic Wordcount: 117,000
Chapter Wordcount:
Notes: Canon-divergent, ignoring most of Act 3. A thousand thanks tosenmut's Discord server for cheering and brainstorming and reactions and encouragement.
Beta: breadedsinner and MikWrites_InSpace
Summary: After the duel with the Arishok, Ariane Hawke looks around at the wreckage of her life in Kirkwall and asks herself: what is left for me here? As tensions increase between the Circle and the Templars, she turns to helping Sebastian retake Starkhaven. Meanwhile, she is trying to figure out how to love Fenris when he hates mages, and also definitely not looking at Sebastian's gorgeous eyes. Definitely not. Neither is Fenris. Sebastian is not looking back.
Definitely.
Canon divergence in which almost all of act 3 goes in the bin, and three damaged people try to find a way to live with each other and themselves, and maybe heal a bit.
Chapter index here.
Odd messages arrived at all hours at Hawke's home. She was accustomed to that. Most of the time the messages weren't urgent and could be shoved through a slot into the locked box that Bodahn kept outside for this purpose. After the second time some self-important merchant had awakened half the household with a midnight demand for her assistance, Hawke had made it clear that disrupting her household for trivialities was unacceptable. She didn't mind the lost sleep for herself, but her staff deserved better.
This morning's mail was of roughly usual proportions. Several supposed investment opportunities--most of which were opportunities to throw good coin away--mixed with four social invitations she didn't want to honor, three household bills that made her wince less than she could have, and two requests for her particular assistance. There was also a badly scribbled, half torn scrap of foolscap that might have been intended to threaten her. The most interesting item, which she pulled out of its envelope as Sebastian came in to join her for breakfast, was a note from Zevran.
She'd been sharing the manor with Sebastian for a few days and it was disconcerting how much it resembled living alone. He set aside time for prayer several times a day, and the rest of the time he was either researching in her library or haunting the Merchant's Guild to get more information on the current state of Starkhaven. Hawke had coaxed and pleaded and finally snarled at Varric to to keep an eye on him. Varric had reported back that "for someone who spent the past however many years in the Chantry, Choir Boy is surprisingly good at dealing with merchants who are trying to flatter him into signing exclusive contracts for when he retakes his throne."
"Good morning," Sebastian said, taking his usual chair.
"Good morning." Hawke smiled over her cup of tea. "Busy today?"
He looked thoughtfully at her, then at the note in her hand. "Nothing that cannot wait," he said.
She passed him the note, and he read it. Zevran was brief and to the point. I have what you asked.. The morning sun fell full on his face, throwing his fine features into bright relief against his dark hair. Hawke wanted to comb it back with her fingers--not to straighten it, but to muss what was tidy. She reminded herself to behave.
"Are you prepared for this, Hawke?" Sebastian asked her. He did not sound as if he doubted her--which would have had her spitting like an angry cat--but rather as though he understood how badly she was about to burn every bridge in Kirkwall. Not just with the templars, but the Circle as well.
"I don't think I can really be prepared," she answered, speaking more to the cup in her hand, "but I am certain."
"Then we will go."
Hawke nodded and skimmed the rest of the notes. "I think it's going to be a long day."
Fenris arrived halfway through breakfast, touching Hawke's shoulder lightly on the way to his accustomed seat. She shivered at the brush of his hand. He smiled first at her, then at Sebastian, and poured himself a cup of tea. The conversation turned to light topics until they had all finished eating, and then they set off to find Varric and then Zevran.
The way to his hideout in the Docks was clearer without the stifling blanket of fog to hide it, though less atmospheric. Hawke found the place easily enough, and Catalina admitted them without comment or challenge. A door closed elsewhere in the building as they entered. Zevran was perched on the farther of the two couches, feet tucked up under him like the namesake of the assassin's order. On a battered low table before him--new since her last visit--was a single sheet of parchment next to a small stack of more parchment. As Hawke crossed the room, she caught a whiff of salt and a familiar perfume. She almost stumbled in surprise.
"You just missed Isabela," Zevran said, "though as she fled through the back door when she knew it was you, that's hardly surprising." He smiled, warmly. "She did leave behind a few bits of information to add to what I collected, though."
Hawke wasn't sure how she felt about Isabela literally running away from her, but she supposed that if she were someone who'd once betrayed someone with her own reputation, she probably would take any opportunity to not be in the same room. "I....don't mean her ill," she said cautiously.
"Of course you do not," Zevran said, "or I would not have told you she was here. She and I are friends of many years. I would not knowingly endanger her." He paused. "Some wounds heal better when covered," he added gently.
Hawke made herself nod.
"To business, then," Zevran said. Catalina disappeared up the stairs once more, and Zevran gestured them over to the couches. "You wished to know whose coin drove the pen to sign the contract against you with the Crows. This was simple to find. The Gallows looks to secure its inner workings, not those who would come in from outside--although it does the former just as poorly." He made a tsking sound. "The Knight-Commander offered Grace privileges she would otherwise not have to sign this contract in her stead, but since your return to Kirkwall, the privileges were revoked, and Grace was entirely willing to disclose all of the terms. She even wrote it down, with a bit of persuasion." He tapped one of the sheets of parchment on the table before him. "More interestingly, she told me where the First Enchanter kept some documents." Now he tapped the pile of parchment.
"Why would she do that?" Hawke asked.
Zevran hummed. "A clever woman," he said. "She quickly realized that if you survived the Crows, and wanted to know more about the contract, then she wanted to be on your good side. I believe she also has designs on the First Enchanter's seat." He shrugged, as though to indicate a low opinion of her chances at that. "In any event, she sends these documents with her, ah, compliments, and says you will find things of interest to you personally within them." He gathered all of the parchment into a single stack and offered it to Hawke.
She didn't take it. "This is more than we agreed," she said.
He didn't lower his hand. "The price hasn't changed," he said. At her expression, he smiled faintly. "I saw many things as I wandered the Gallows. I am not a man of charitable inclinations, but I make an exception for this." His smile grew sharper and his tone warmer. "Of course, if you wished to trade kisses, or perhaps more, this could be discussed."
"A generous offer," Hawke said, "but my affections are spoken for."
Zevran laughed. "Bring as many friends as you like." He winked. "You know where to find me if you wish."
Hawke took the papers and made no reply; she couldn't think of one. "Thank you," she said instead, sincerely.
He nodded. "I wish you luck," he said, more soberly. "I think you will need it."
"You may not want to go wandering in the Gallows for a while," Hawke said. "It might be uncomfortable, even for someone with your skills."
"Understood." He hopped off the couch and escorted them to the door. "If your future life has need of an assassin," he said, "I am open to new contracts."
"I'll keep that in mind," Hawke said. There were worse things than knowing an assassin who was favorably inclined to you, if one was attempting to take a throne.
They stepped out into the damp air of the docks and heard the door close behind them. Hawke looked down at the documents in her hand. "Well," she said, "I think that went better than expected."
Varric craned his head to try to read them. "What do you suppose the First Enchanter is hiding?"
"Blood magic," Hawke and Fenris said together. She looked at him in surprise. He shrugged.
Varric frowned. "That's not encouraging."
"I'm not reading these out here," Hawke said. She could feel her knuckles aching from how she gripped the pages.
"Hanged Man is closer," Fenris said.
She didn't like the idea of this evidence being out in the world where someone could steal it, but she was desperately curious and didn't want to wait. She nodded, and they headed to Lowtown.
She bypassed Varric's usual table to go straight up to his "office." He lagged behind, presumably asking Nora to send up drinks and food, but joined them quickly. Hawke claimed the closest chair to the door and immediately started to read.
Grace's document was written in the clear script of a scholar. It was short. Meredith had bribed her with offers of special privileges to meet a contact for the Crows and sign her own name to the document. Grace had not asked why the Knight-Commander wanted a go-between or this particular target. She had been given the choice of privileges if she did, or punishment if she declined. Hawke thought of the cells below the Gallows and couldn't find it in her to blame the woman. Grace had made plenty of poor choices, but no mage in Meredith's dubious care had good ones.
Hawke handed that off to Fenris for his turn, with Sebastian reading over his shoulder--she saw the way Sebastian rested his hand on Fenris's shoulder, and the way Fenris inclined his body ever so slightly toward him. The brief thought of having that light, but intimate, touch on her own shoulder danced through her mind and she shoved it aside. There would be time for that after they left Kirkwall. It would be a long trip to Starkhaven. There would be time.
She turned resolutely to the additional documents.
All had Orsino's distinctive handwriting--it seemed the plain script of scholars had not suited him. The first was a list of reagents for use in joining spirits to flesh. Hawke felt a grinding nausea seize her as she read the notes. Three were noted as being more useful with elven flesh, and there were a number of possibilities for replacing the necessary lyrium in the event that the ritualist was working with dwarves, given their resistance. She swallowed hard and kept reading. The two reagents noted as particularly efficacious for humans had extensive notes referencing Quentin's experiments.
Hawke gave up and bolted for the basin in the corner, where she was thoroughly ill. There was a small ruckus behind her as Fenris and Sebastian abandoned their reading with sounds of alarm. She sank to her knees, grateful she'd braided her hair back this morning, and leaned back, knowing she'd find Fenris standing there.
"That bad?" Fenris asked her.
She just shook her head, exhausted beyond words. Sebastian had grabbed a cup of water, and the rustle of paper told her that Varric was following up on her reading. He cursed with even more creativity than she had expected from him.
She dragged herself to her feet and back to her chair, where she held out her hand to Varric for the stack of parchment.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Sebastian said.
"I know it isn't," she said, "but I have to read all of it, because it is the only way I am going to convince myself that whether they kill him or make him Tranquil, it's what he deserves." She forced her eyes to stay open. "Otherwise I'll kill him myself."
There was a prickling, brittle silence.
"Why is that a problem, Hawke?" It was almost gentle, by Varric's standards.
She took the parchment stack while he was distracted and ignored his curse. If she'd given him a paper cut, she'd heal it. "Because I need both him and Meredith out of the picture, and if I kill him, she'll hold on to power by using him as proof for why she's right."
"Please don't tell me you expect Junior to be the voice of reason for the Templar Order," Varric said after she'd given up on a response and started reading again.
"No," she said, "but I think Knight-Captain Rutherford can." She could hear his disbelief even though he said nothing aloud. She went back to her reading. Every time she finished a page, she held it out and one of the others took it. She squashed a wave of guilt for focusing this way, ignoring them and demanding first look, but she couldn't bring herself to let go. She read twenty-five pages of Orsino's depravity, any one of which would have been enough for Meredith to sentence him to Tranquility before she was halfway through the text.
The worst part, she thought, wasn't even the things he had studied. It was that he'd let others take the risks for him, and hadn't even had the will to bloody his own hands with the cost of his experiments. He sat safe in the Gallows, encouraging his compatriots to ever more horror, and claimed to be safeguarding the mages from Meredith.
The last page she read had notes about experiments on mages deemed unable to pass their Harrowing, and she gripped the side of the chair with her free hand until her nails bent back to keep herself from vomiting again.
When she looked up, Fenris was watching her with concern. Her hand shook when she handed him the parchment, and then she laid her hands flat on her thighs and concentrated on breathing the way her father had taught her when she was first learning to channel magic. Breathe in, hold, breathe out, hold. Slower and slower until her heartbeat stopped racing and some of the nausea receded. She realized then that the background noise she had been hearing was Sebastian quietly reading the pages aloud to Fenris. She wondered when Fenris had admitted that gap in his education. She decided it didn't matter. She watched as Sebastian's already horrified expression grew darker.
She'd never thought she'd ever be grateful to have lost her sister--but thank the Maker that Bethany hadn't had to live here, in this tainted pit of blood magic and templar violence and everything else Kirkwall had wrong with it. She bit the inside of her cheek as soon as she thought it, because Bethany deserved better--but that was the point, wasn't it? Deserving better.
Their mother had thought she was doing the right thing bringing them back to the city of her birth, but Hawke knew now that the only thing that awaited her in Kirkwall was more, and worse, of what she'd already had.
She had to leave before it could corrupt her more.
The others were looking at her.
"I am going to arrange a meeting with Carver and Knight-Captain Rutherford," she said, "and I will do what is necessary to put an end to this, or at least this part of it."
"I am with you," Fenris said quietly.
"And I," Sebastian said.
"Am I the only one who thinks we should just kill both of them and let the rest sort it out?" Varric sighed. "You know I'm in, Hawke."
"Then here is what we'll do," she said, and started to outline the plan.
Chapter Thirty
Rating: NC-17
Contains: Canon-typical violence, explicit sex
Fic Wordcount: 117,000
Chapter Wordcount:
Notes: Canon-divergent, ignoring most of Act 3. A thousand thanks to
senmut's Discord server for cheering and brainstorming and reactions and encouragement.Beta: breadedsinner and MikWrites_InSpace
Summary: After the duel with the Arishok, Ariane Hawke looks around at the wreckage of her life in Kirkwall and asks herself: what is left for me here? As tensions increase between the Circle and the Templars, she turns to helping Sebastian retake Starkhaven. Meanwhile, she is trying to figure out how to love Fenris when he hates mages, and also definitely not looking at Sebastian's gorgeous eyes. Definitely not. Neither is Fenris. Sebastian is not looking back.
Definitely.
Canon divergence in which almost all of act 3 goes in the bin, and three damaged people try to find a way to live with each other and themselves, and maybe heal a bit.
Chapter index here.
Odd messages arrived at all hours at Hawke's home. She was accustomed to that. Most of the time the messages weren't urgent and could be shoved through a slot into the locked box that Bodahn kept outside for this purpose. After the second time some self-important merchant had awakened half the household with a midnight demand for her assistance, Hawke had made it clear that disrupting her household for trivialities was unacceptable. She didn't mind the lost sleep for herself, but her staff deserved better.
This morning's mail was of roughly usual proportions. Several supposed investment opportunities--most of which were opportunities to throw good coin away--mixed with four social invitations she didn't want to honor, three household bills that made her wince less than she could have, and two requests for her particular assistance. There was also a badly scribbled, half torn scrap of foolscap that might have been intended to threaten her. The most interesting item, which she pulled out of its envelope as Sebastian came in to join her for breakfast, was a note from Zevran.
She'd been sharing the manor with Sebastian for a few days and it was disconcerting how much it resembled living alone. He set aside time for prayer several times a day, and the rest of the time he was either researching in her library or haunting the Merchant's Guild to get more information on the current state of Starkhaven. Hawke had coaxed and pleaded and finally snarled at Varric to to keep an eye on him. Varric had reported back that "for someone who spent the past however many years in the Chantry, Choir Boy is surprisingly good at dealing with merchants who are trying to flatter him into signing exclusive contracts for when he retakes his throne."
"Good morning," Sebastian said, taking his usual chair.
"Good morning." Hawke smiled over her cup of tea. "Busy today?"
He looked thoughtfully at her, then at the note in her hand. "Nothing that cannot wait," he said.
She passed him the note, and he read it. Zevran was brief and to the point. I have what you asked.. The morning sun fell full on his face, throwing his fine features into bright relief against his dark hair. Hawke wanted to comb it back with her fingers--not to straighten it, but to muss what was tidy. She reminded herself to behave.
"Are you prepared for this, Hawke?" Sebastian asked her. He did not sound as if he doubted her--which would have had her spitting like an angry cat--but rather as though he understood how badly she was about to burn every bridge in Kirkwall. Not just with the templars, but the Circle as well.
"I don't think I can really be prepared," she answered, speaking more to the cup in her hand, "but I am certain."
"Then we will go."
Hawke nodded and skimmed the rest of the notes. "I think it's going to be a long day."
Fenris arrived halfway through breakfast, touching Hawke's shoulder lightly on the way to his accustomed seat. She shivered at the brush of his hand. He smiled first at her, then at Sebastian, and poured himself a cup of tea. The conversation turned to light topics until they had all finished eating, and then they set off to find Varric and then Zevran.
The way to his hideout in the Docks was clearer without the stifling blanket of fog to hide it, though less atmospheric. Hawke found the place easily enough, and Catalina admitted them without comment or challenge. A door closed elsewhere in the building as they entered. Zevran was perched on the farther of the two couches, feet tucked up under him like the namesake of the assassin's order. On a battered low table before him--new since her last visit--was a single sheet of parchment next to a small stack of more parchment. As Hawke crossed the room, she caught a whiff of salt and a familiar perfume. She almost stumbled in surprise.
"You just missed Isabela," Zevran said, "though as she fled through the back door when she knew it was you, that's hardly surprising." He smiled, warmly. "She did leave behind a few bits of information to add to what I collected, though."
Hawke wasn't sure how she felt about Isabela literally running away from her, but she supposed that if she were someone who'd once betrayed someone with her own reputation, she probably would take any opportunity to not be in the same room. "I....don't mean her ill," she said cautiously.
"Of course you do not," Zevran said, "or I would not have told you she was here. She and I are friends of many years. I would not knowingly endanger her." He paused. "Some wounds heal better when covered," he added gently.
Hawke made herself nod.
"To business, then," Zevran said. Catalina disappeared up the stairs once more, and Zevran gestured them over to the couches. "You wished to know whose coin drove the pen to sign the contract against you with the Crows. This was simple to find. The Gallows looks to secure its inner workings, not those who would come in from outside--although it does the former just as poorly." He made a tsking sound. "The Knight-Commander offered Grace privileges she would otherwise not have to sign this contract in her stead, but since your return to Kirkwall, the privileges were revoked, and Grace was entirely willing to disclose all of the terms. She even wrote it down, with a bit of persuasion." He tapped one of the sheets of parchment on the table before him. "More interestingly, she told me where the First Enchanter kept some documents." Now he tapped the pile of parchment.
"Why would she do that?" Hawke asked.
Zevran hummed. "A clever woman," he said. "She quickly realized that if you survived the Crows, and wanted to know more about the contract, then she wanted to be on your good side. I believe she also has designs on the First Enchanter's seat." He shrugged, as though to indicate a low opinion of her chances at that. "In any event, she sends these documents with her, ah, compliments, and says you will find things of interest to you personally within them." He gathered all of the parchment into a single stack and offered it to Hawke.
She didn't take it. "This is more than we agreed," she said.
He didn't lower his hand. "The price hasn't changed," he said. At her expression, he smiled faintly. "I saw many things as I wandered the Gallows. I am not a man of charitable inclinations, but I make an exception for this." His smile grew sharper and his tone warmer. "Of course, if you wished to trade kisses, or perhaps more, this could be discussed."
"A generous offer," Hawke said, "but my affections are spoken for."
Zevran laughed. "Bring as many friends as you like." He winked. "You know where to find me if you wish."
Hawke took the papers and made no reply; she couldn't think of one. "Thank you," she said instead, sincerely.
He nodded. "I wish you luck," he said, more soberly. "I think you will need it."
"You may not want to go wandering in the Gallows for a while," Hawke said. "It might be uncomfortable, even for someone with your skills."
"Understood." He hopped off the couch and escorted them to the door. "If your future life has need of an assassin," he said, "I am open to new contracts."
"I'll keep that in mind," Hawke said. There were worse things than knowing an assassin who was favorably inclined to you, if one was attempting to take a throne.
They stepped out into the damp air of the docks and heard the door close behind them. Hawke looked down at the documents in her hand. "Well," she said, "I think that went better than expected."
Varric craned his head to try to read them. "What do you suppose the First Enchanter is hiding?"
"Blood magic," Hawke and Fenris said together. She looked at him in surprise. He shrugged.
Varric frowned. "That's not encouraging."
"I'm not reading these out here," Hawke said. She could feel her knuckles aching from how she gripped the pages.
"Hanged Man is closer," Fenris said.
She didn't like the idea of this evidence being out in the world where someone could steal it, but she was desperately curious and didn't want to wait. She nodded, and they headed to Lowtown.
She bypassed Varric's usual table to go straight up to his "office." He lagged behind, presumably asking Nora to send up drinks and food, but joined them quickly. Hawke claimed the closest chair to the door and immediately started to read.
Grace's document was written in the clear script of a scholar. It was short. Meredith had bribed her with offers of special privileges to meet a contact for the Crows and sign her own name to the document. Grace had not asked why the Knight-Commander wanted a go-between or this particular target. She had been given the choice of privileges if she did, or punishment if she declined. Hawke thought of the cells below the Gallows and couldn't find it in her to blame the woman. Grace had made plenty of poor choices, but no mage in Meredith's dubious care had good ones.
Hawke handed that off to Fenris for his turn, with Sebastian reading over his shoulder--she saw the way Sebastian rested his hand on Fenris's shoulder, and the way Fenris inclined his body ever so slightly toward him. The brief thought of having that light, but intimate, touch on her own shoulder danced through her mind and she shoved it aside. There would be time for that after they left Kirkwall. It would be a long trip to Starkhaven. There would be time.
She turned resolutely to the additional documents.
All had Orsino's distinctive handwriting--it seemed the plain script of scholars had not suited him. The first was a list of reagents for use in joining spirits to flesh. Hawke felt a grinding nausea seize her as she read the notes. Three were noted as being more useful with elven flesh, and there were a number of possibilities for replacing the necessary lyrium in the event that the ritualist was working with dwarves, given their resistance. She swallowed hard and kept reading. The two reagents noted as particularly efficacious for humans had extensive notes referencing Quentin's experiments.
Hawke gave up and bolted for the basin in the corner, where she was thoroughly ill. There was a small ruckus behind her as Fenris and Sebastian abandoned their reading with sounds of alarm. She sank to her knees, grateful she'd braided her hair back this morning, and leaned back, knowing she'd find Fenris standing there.
"That bad?" Fenris asked her.
She just shook her head, exhausted beyond words. Sebastian had grabbed a cup of water, and the rustle of paper told her that Varric was following up on her reading. He cursed with even more creativity than she had expected from him.
She dragged herself to her feet and back to her chair, where she held out her hand to Varric for the stack of parchment.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Sebastian said.
"I know it isn't," she said, "but I have to read all of it, because it is the only way I am going to convince myself that whether they kill him or make him Tranquil, it's what he deserves." She forced her eyes to stay open. "Otherwise I'll kill him myself."
There was a prickling, brittle silence.
"Why is that a problem, Hawke?" It was almost gentle, by Varric's standards.
She took the parchment stack while he was distracted and ignored his curse. If she'd given him a paper cut, she'd heal it. "Because I need both him and Meredith out of the picture, and if I kill him, she'll hold on to power by using him as proof for why she's right."
"Please don't tell me you expect Junior to be the voice of reason for the Templar Order," Varric said after she'd given up on a response and started reading again.
"No," she said, "but I think Knight-Captain Rutherford can." She could hear his disbelief even though he said nothing aloud. She went back to her reading. Every time she finished a page, she held it out and one of the others took it. She squashed a wave of guilt for focusing this way, ignoring them and demanding first look, but she couldn't bring herself to let go. She read twenty-five pages of Orsino's depravity, any one of which would have been enough for Meredith to sentence him to Tranquility before she was halfway through the text.
The worst part, she thought, wasn't even the things he had studied. It was that he'd let others take the risks for him, and hadn't even had the will to bloody his own hands with the cost of his experiments. He sat safe in the Gallows, encouraging his compatriots to ever more horror, and claimed to be safeguarding the mages from Meredith.
The last page she read had notes about experiments on mages deemed unable to pass their Harrowing, and she gripped the side of the chair with her free hand until her nails bent back to keep herself from vomiting again.
When she looked up, Fenris was watching her with concern. Her hand shook when she handed him the parchment, and then she laid her hands flat on her thighs and concentrated on breathing the way her father had taught her when she was first learning to channel magic. Breathe in, hold, breathe out, hold. Slower and slower until her heartbeat stopped racing and some of the nausea receded. She realized then that the background noise she had been hearing was Sebastian quietly reading the pages aloud to Fenris. She wondered when Fenris had admitted that gap in his education. She decided it didn't matter. She watched as Sebastian's already horrified expression grew darker.
She'd never thought she'd ever be grateful to have lost her sister--but thank the Maker that Bethany hadn't had to live here, in this tainted pit of blood magic and templar violence and everything else Kirkwall had wrong with it. She bit the inside of her cheek as soon as she thought it, because Bethany deserved better--but that was the point, wasn't it? Deserving better.
Their mother had thought she was doing the right thing bringing them back to the city of her birth, but Hawke knew now that the only thing that awaited her in Kirkwall was more, and worse, of what she'd already had.
She had to leave before it could corrupt her more.
The others were looking at her.
"I am going to arrange a meeting with Carver and Knight-Captain Rutherford," she said, "and I will do what is necessary to put an end to this, or at least this part of it."
"I am with you," Fenris said quietly.
"And I," Sebastian said.
"Am I the only one who thinks we should just kill both of them and let the rest sort it out?" Varric sighed. "You know I'm in, Hawke."
"Then here is what we'll do," she said, and started to outline the plan.
Chapter Thirty