The grinding of her teeth worsens. Who is she? A living saint. The only person capable of destroying the Fold, of destroying him.

And, a smaller voice says, a mapmaker. An orphan. A stick from Keramzin who has delusions of grandeur, and no chance.

It's this smaller voice that stops her from snapping any of this aloud. That keeps her growing self-aggrandizement inside, where it belongs. Instead, she sneers, "Do you really plan to embarrass yourself by throwing yourself at him?"