Gideon the Ninth (The Locked Tomb, #1)

by Tamsyn Muir

“I said saddle up, sunshine. Come on. You know what to do.” “I manifestly don’t, and never tell me to saddle up, sunshine ever again.”

I was engineered into a man who doesn’t—pick and choose his decencies!”

“Ninth,” he said, “if she were capable of anything, in order to become a Lyctor—don’t you think she’d be one already? If she really wanted to watch the world burn—wouldn’t we all be alight?”

“Harrow,” said Gideon, “if my heart had a dick you would kick it.”

“I have tried to dismantle you, Gideon Nav! The Ninth House poisoned you, we trod you underfoot—I took you to this killing field as my slave—you refuse to die, and you pity me! Strike me down. You’ve won. I’ve lived my whole wretched life at your mercy, yours alone, and God knows I deserve to die at your hand. You are my only friend. I am undone without you.”

“Too many words,” said Gideon confidentially. “How about these: One flesh, one end, bitch.”

“Reverend Daughter, you know as well as I do that the Eighth House wouldn’t let a little thing like fair play get in the way of its sacred duty to do whatever it wants.”

“I discarded it as ghastly. Ghastly, and obvious.” “Ghastly and obvious are my middle names,” said the pale twin.

“Stop fighting me,” said Silas, without opening his eyes. Colum said gruffly: “Don’t do it. Don’t put me under. Not this time.” “Brother Asht,” said his necromancer, “if you cannot believe, then for God’s sake obey.”

“Why was I born so attractive?” “Because everyone would have throttled you within the first five minutes otherwise,” said her necromancer.

“Then we’re all dead, Nav, but let’s bring hell first,” said Harrow.

“We do bones, motherfucker,”

“I meant it,” she said earnestly. “You were wonderful. You would have made that little nun such a cavalier—I almost wish you’d been mine.” “You couldn’t fucking afford me,” said Gideon.

“I need to be inside you,” Harrow bellowed over the din. “Okay, you’re not even trying,” said Gideon.

She drawled, “Is this meant to kill me?” “Give me time,” said Camilla, through gritted teeth. Cytherea gave this due consideration. “I’d rather not,” she said.

Gideon wished she was less interested and more dying, but you had to take victories where you could get them.

The wall was already feeling pretty sorry for itself, and at this last insult it gave up entirely and collapsed, with a terrific rumble and crash of rock and brick and bursting glass slumping outward onto the garden terrace.

“It’s time for round two.” She considered that. “Wait. Is this round three now? I keep losing count.”

“This plan is stupid, and you’re stupid.

“I’m not getting haunted by Palamedes Sextus’s crappy-ass revenant all telling me doctor facts for the rest of my life, just because I let you get disintegrated.”

She was Gideon Nav, and Nav was a Niner name.

“You’re already two hundred dead daughters and sons of our House. What’s one more?”

“I cannot conceive of a universe without you in it.” “Yes you can, it’s just less great and less hot,” said Gideon.