Empire in Black and Gold (Shadows of the Apt, #1)

by Adrian Tchaikovsky

‘It’s easy, once the lamps are lit, to scoff at shadows,’ was all he said, and then he had retired to bed.

‘Well, next time you shed my kinden’s blood, think on this: we are but men, no less nor more than other men, and we strive and feel joy and fail as men have always done. We live in the darkness that is the birthright of us all, that of hurt and ignorance, only sometimes . . . sometimes there comes the sun.’ He let the bowl fall from his fingers to the floor, watching it spin and settle, unbroken. ‘You should fly now while it’s still raining. People never look up that much in the wet.’