Ciaradh

“Someone’s been having fun in here,” said Gideon. Harrow shot her a look but did not enforce the vow of silence. “Yes,” she said. “Me.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Gideon the Ninth

“Gideon winked at her increasingly agitated companion. She said, sotto voce: “But then you couldn’t have admired … these,” and whipped on the glasses she’d unearthed back home. They were ancient smoked-glass sunglasses, with thin black frames and big mirrored lenses, and they greyed out Harrow’s expression of incredulous horror as she adjusted them on her nose.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Gideon the Ninth

“I need you to trust me.

I need you to be trustworthy.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Gideon the Ninth

“She had left Harrowhark a note on her vastly underused pillow— WHATS WITH THE SKULLS? and received only a terse— Ambiance.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Gideon the Ninth