His fingers went to the signet ring on his little finger, and he twisted it back and forth. And back and forth. He grimaced. “This may take a moment.” “Colin, really. You don’t have to—” “Almost have it,” he said through gritted teeth. His face was red and contorted with effort. “Wait . . . wait . . .” He turned away and crouched, still tugging at the ring. Minerva began to grow worried for him. “There.” Panting for breath and wearing an expression of triumph, he held up the ring for her inspection.
