The Inheritance Trilogy

by N.K. Jemisin

“My mother often told me I was too blunt,” I said. “Why are you here?”

“I’m not sure that would be proper,” I said at last. “You are very much older than me, and yet clearly underage. It would be a scandal, either way.”

A write off of human males? Not projecting!

When I turned, Sieh had finally stopped laughing. He sat on the edge of the bed, watching me, thoughtful. “I could be older,” he said softly. “If you’d rather have me older, I mean. I don’t have to be a child.” I stared at him and did not know whether to feel pity, nausea, or both at once. “I want you to be what you are,” I said.

I did not understand his constant need to touch me. I didn’t mind, but it made me wonder who he cuddled when I was not around. I wondered what price they demanded of him in exchange.

“Bright Itempas also embodies order,” I said, hoping to change the subject. “If everyone in the world killed to get what they wanted, there would be anarchy.”

Disappointing that she doesn’t understand the meaning of the word anarchy

wanted to deny what I had seen in Dateh’s face: Paitya’s gentle smile, Dump’s square teeth, Madding’s eyes. And many others. There was almost nothing left of Dateh himself—nothing but will and hate.

This is so golem, down to the similarity in name sounds, e.g. Serymn, Sauron

Ah, yes—someone had already told her that girls had to be dignified while boys could be rowdy, and she had foolishly listened to that advice. (One of many reasons I’d settled on a male form myself. Mortals said fewer stupid things to boys.)

and I had been chained within a sack of meat that slurped and leaked and thumped about,

Then I was in Deka’s arms, being carried like a child, bump te bump te bump. It was nice that he was so much bigger than me.