The Aeronaut's Windlass (The Cinder Spires, #1)

by Jim Butcher

Grimm would sooner hurl himself off Predator’s ventral mastworks than needlessly spend a drop of his crew’s blood. So he did what he could to make them fight as efficiently and ferociously as possible. He did nothing.

It had howled like a damned soul when it stooped upon a victim.

“He was the finest naval commander in the history of all of Spire Albion. In fact, the Spire might not be here at all if not for his courage and skill. You come from one of the greatest families in our history.”

“Why do all you people in the High Houses think that you are the only ones who can possibly manage matters that are none of your bloody business?

“Both of you. Stop it this instant. It’s like you’ve both read a book that I haven’t and you won’t stop talking about it. It’s most impolite.”

“Ah. Ah! A man of modesty, either so false that it may be true or so true that it seems entirely false. I can see why Bayard speaks so well of you, sir.”

Rowl leaned down to peer at Folly. “She seemed no more ridiculous to me than most humans.”

Bridget checked on Rowl again, but the two cats remained locked in their war of mutual indifference.

The older you get, I should think, the more you will come to understand that the universe is very much a looking glass, Miss Lancaster.” “Meaning what, precisely?” “That it reflects a great deal more of yourself to your senses than you probably know.”