Harrow the Ninth (The Locked Tomb, #2)

by Tamsyn Muir

GOD STOOD IN YOUR DOORWAY and said, “You’ve thrown up again, Harrowhark.”

“You put it in my own hands, you skull-faced fruitcake,”

Ianthe had walked away from you, all split lips and gay loneliness;

thought that made you want to give yourself a lobotomy.

to prevent the Nine Houses becoming none House, with left grief.”

brilliant ruffled canary-yellow silk that made her look like a formal lemon—

And you walked to your death like a lover.

these motherfuckers had a hunger that only thumbs could satisfy.

You didn’t have your original thumb and I’d touched your intestines, which is usually what, fourth date, but you were fine.

screaming after an impromptu divorce between her arm and her shoulder.