What isn’t a woman’s office is the office of a witch, and where no man would right her wronged cousin, it was a witch who went to war for them. A laugh flitted through her ears like flecks of gold eddying in a river — the laugh of the other Beatrice, the Beatrice who answered her bitterest jests and never turned away with a jade’s trick. “Come,” she cackled, “remember the sin,” because some sins should never be forgiven.