The Last Necromancer (The Ministry of Curiosities, #1)

by C.J. Archer

"You're a tosspot." He grunted. "I expect a gutter dweller to come up with something more offensive than that." "A fucking tosspot." "Better.

"I am in charge of the ministry now, and I say how we treat our informants." Fitzroy's voice was cool and ominously quiet.

"Does he snore?" he whispered. Despite everything, I laughed. "Like a trumpet," I whispered back, keeping Fitzroy in my line of sight. Gus grinned, revealing a patchwork of broken and crooked teeth. "I knew there had to be something human about him." "Or maybe his gears get jammed when he lies down."

If he wanted to keep a close eye on me, I might as well annoy him. It was my duty as his prisoner.

"And you call my sense of humor dry," I muttered when I caught up to him near the stables. "Yours is positively parched."

death, been beaten to near death, left to rot in jail with men who wanted to do things to me that made me want to die. Unless you plan on killing me, your drastic measures will be a gift by comparison."

"I understand your fear, Charlie." "Do you? You're a necromancer wanted by a madman, are you?" I grunted. "Don't pretend to sympathize. You don't have a sympathetic bone in your body."

"You say I'm stubborn, but you are positively obstinate."

"Very well, I'll eat. If I indulge too much, however, Lord Gillingham will only have you to blame when I vomit over his shoes." "I'll have Cook double the quantity on your plate."

"Do not lie to us again or there will be consequences. Is that understood?" I stepped forward and touched my toe to his stick. I gave it a nudge so that he knew I could have done more if I'd wanted to. "Do not behave like an in-bred half-wit, or I might refuse to co-operate."

"Magic? Surely that's a joke?" "I don't joke." "Amen," Seth muttered

"I got embroiled in a melee." "Why the white face?" "My sword got in the way." "You ain't carrying— Ah." Gus snorted. "Dagger, more like."

sewing and embroidering since I was old enough to hold a needle. I'll do it." "Were you any good?" Seth asked. "Adequate." I shot Fitzroy a reassuring smile. "The wound is straight. Unless you want me to embroider Home Sweet Home, I can manage."

It was about a girl who learned she was adopted. At least her father wasn't a murderer.

Lord Gillingham wants me dead, the others think I ought to be exiled, and you want to dissect my brain for science." The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. Surely he couldn't be smiling at me. I had been entirely serious. "Your brain will be safe from me."