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Tamsyn Muir Biography

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“The smooth claw of the finger joint felt cool against your mouth. Her head was quite close to yours. The lace nightgown gapped, somewhat, at the front. The Princess of Ida said, “I already know how I’m going to thank you,” and you were bemused. You absolute idiot baby, you were mystified. You were tired, and you were embarrassed, and you were riding high from the satisfaction of doing one half-perfect thing—of having committed a low miracle of your own devising—of, for a handful of minutes, being Harrowhark Nonagesimus again, the greatest necromancer produced by your dark and sacred Drearburh.”

“The dancer moaned and scrabbled at the cage mesh. She made guttural honks of frustration and excitement. The raspberry mouth opened to reveal the long black tongue and pointed pink teeth. It was a lot of noise and fuss, but nothing especially frightening. Nothing new, right up until the ghoul's cold pupils fixed on her - fixed, then suddenly transfigured. No mindless hunger. The badly painted lips peeled off those sharp pink teeth. "Amy," the ghoul panted. "Amy, I still dream about you.”