What is written can be erased, alas. - Genevieve Cogman

“May I be frank?” Sherrington asked.
Irene sighed. This was always the sign of a fast-approaching insult.

Walking through a library—any library—as they made their way to the exterior had its usual comforting, balancing effect on Irene. It was a reassurance that such places existed and that they would continue, even if she herself was as temporary as any other human.

I dislike the fact that she treated you like a servant," Kai commented. His voice had an undertone to it that promised reprisals.
"Leave it for the moment," Irene said wearily. "I'm not going to waste my time feeling insulted. And don't you think we've got more serious problems to consider? Much more serious problems?