Ancillary Mercy (Imperial Radch, #3)

by Ann Leckie

“Did you ever hear a song you didn’t like?” “Yes, actually.” “In the name of all that’s holy,” Sphene replied, “don’t sing it. I have enough misfortune in my life.”

Both Two and Four had been as obviously near death as either of them had ever been in their lives, just hours ago. They had failed in their mission, one they knew well enough everything had depended on. Even the next few minutes seemed uncertain, filled with pitfalls. Seivarden, with no apparent awareness of this, asked, bewildered, “You need me to drink tea?”

Sphene was silent for three seconds, and then said, “I don’t think that story communicates the point you seem to imagine it does.”