Yes, I know,โ she said in answer to the unasked, for there was no time for explanations. โYes. My face is spoilt.โ Grandibleโs jowl wobbled and creased. Then, for the first time that Neverfell could remember, he changed to a Face she had never seen before, a frown more ferocious and alarming than either of the others. โWho the shambles told you that?โ he barked. โSpoilt? Iโll spoil them.โ He took hold of her chin and examined her. โA bit sadder, maybe. A bit wiser. But nothing rotten. Youโre just growing yourself a rind at last. Still a good cheese.
Frances HardingePerhaps illnesses could be left behind, just like small, badly concealed china corpses.
Frances HardingeAt one oโclock, the ever-logical Right-Eye Grand Steward woke up to discover that during his sleep his left-eyed counterpart had executed three of his advisors for treason, ordered the creation of a new carp pool and banned limericks. Worse still, no progress had been made in tracking down the Kleptomancer, and of the two people believed to be his accomplices, both had been released from prison and one had been appointed food taster. Right-Eye was not amused. He had known for centuries that he could trust nobody but himself. Now he was seriously starting to wonder about himself.
Frances HardingeIt was all very well being told that she could do nothing to make things better. Neverfell did not have the kind of mind that could take that quietly. She did not have the kind of mind that could be quiet at all.
Frances Hardinge