What Moves the Dead (Sworn Soldier, #1)

by T. Kingfisher

(I am never sure what to think of Americans. Their brashness can be charming, but just when I decide that I rather like them, I meet one that I wish would go back to America, and then perhaps keep going off the far edge, into the sea.)

I did not know how to deal with this sort of death, the one that comes slow and inevitable and does not let go.

I shall assume, gentle reader, that you are of the former sort and explain, in the event that you have not encountered Gallacia’s sworn soldiers, or have only read of us in the more lurid periodicals.

Oh okay lady whistledown lay it on me

Sometimes it’s hard to know if someone is insulting or just an American.

Is it probably a dozen different disorders lumped under one name?

Oh so like no different than the real world lol

I saw her to her room, and she seemed to float through the door as if the earth could no longer quite hold her.

“Well, I am a superstitious soul,” said Angus, “and I know there is. It ain’t canny. The sort of place you find devils dancing on the moors.”

I think angus is my fav

he played dramatic compositions by great composers. (Mozart? Beethoven? Why are you asking me? It was music, it went dun-dun-dun-DUN, what more do you want me to say?)

“This place breeds nightmares,”

The hares. DUH ALEX.

“This is not a good house for anyone,” he said, “but certainly not for those of melancholic temper.”