Allison Henle

“Her going full atria was perfectly over-the-top. The crew on your horrible flagships are always trying to martyr themselves whenever you so much as ask for an orange juice.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Harrow the Ninth

“O corse of the Locked Tomb, she prayed silently to herself, the cold death to anyone who looks at me in pity; the heat death to anyone who looks to me in amusement; the quick death to anyone who looks at me in fear.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Harrow the Ninth

“I could protect you, if you’d only ask me to,” said Ianthe the First. A tepid trickle of sweat ran down your ribs. “I would rather have my tendons peeled from my body, one by one, and flossed to shreds over my broken bones,” you said. “I would rather be flayed alive and wrapped in salt. I would rather have my own digestive acid dripped into my eyes.” “So what I’m hearing is … maybe,” said Ianthe. “Help me out here. Don’t be coy.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Harrow the Ninth

“You didn’t have your original thumb and I’d touched your intestines, which is usually what, fourth date, but you were fine.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Harrow the Ninth