Gideon the Ninth (The Locked Tomb, #1)

by Tamsyn Muir

“But for the love of the Emperor, Griddle,” she said gruffly, “you are something else with that sword.” The blood all drained away from Gideon’s cheeks for some reason. The world spun off its axis. Bright spots sparked in her vision. She found herself saying, intelligently, “Mmf.” “I was in the privileged position of feeling you fight,” Harrow continued, fingers nervously flexing. “And it took me a while to work out what you were doing. Longer still to appreciate it. But I don’t think I’d ever really watched you, not in context … Well, all I can say is thank the Tomb that nobody knows you’re not really one of ours. If I didn’t know that, I’d be saying that you were Matthias Nonius come again or something equally saccharine.” “Harrow,” said Gideon, finding her tongue, “don’t say these things to me. I still have a million reasons to be mad at you. It’s hard to do that and worry that you got brain injured.” “I’m merely saying you’re an incredible swordswoman,” said the necromancer briskly. “You’re still a dreadful human being.” “Okay, cool, thanks,” said Gideon. “Damage done though. What now?”