Mosca said nothing. The word ‘damsel’ rankled with her. She suddenly thought of the clawed girl from the night before, jumping the filch on an icy street. Much the same age and build as Beamabeth, and far more beleaguered. What… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
Truth is dangerous. It topples palaces and kills kings. It stirs gentle men to rage and bids them take up arms. It wakes old grievances and opens forgotten wounds. It is the mother of the sleepless night and the hag-ridden… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“It is dangerous to lock oneself away and lose track of what is happening outside.” — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“Clent, however, suppressed any sense of pity without the slightest difficulty. His brain was busy with the icy clockwork of calculation. If only this… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“I swam across the torrent of my madness, and pulled myself upon the shore of a new and better sanity.” — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“Before her escort could react, she sprinted out from their little pool of lantern-light into the darkness, her feet pounding the soft, treacherous clods… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“She was not undamaged, however, and she knew it. No food or drink had passed her lips, but she had drunk deep of the… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“All her life, Neverfell had suffered the dull, embarrassed ache of the knowledge that she was always the maddest person in the room. Funnily… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“Well, if you are to help me with my work, you had better get used to stories without endings. True stories seldom have endings.” — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“And you may comfort yourself with the thought that you have been the caltrop under her satin shoe every step of the way. You… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“The little pedlar, it seemed, fancied that he had the tools to fix the wheel. The footmen were glad to hear this, and agreed… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“For a second, she could almost see Caverna as the Kleptomancer did, a murky, monstrous beauty, smiling her fine-fanged smile as she prepared to… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you’re sane? That you’ve always been sane? That perhaps you’re the sanest person in the city?"… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“Thank you," she whispered. "I promise I will not interfere in Court business again." "Oh yes, you will." Zouelle looked up to see her… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
