"It has barely been a month," says Harrow, shooting Gideon another exasperated glare before she reaches for the bread. "Your gross lack of patience is not actually my problem."

What is, she knows, is the flaw and failing that made her push for as much of a delay as she could get. To call this something concrete, to go out into the light as more than what they'd been, felt and still feels utterly impossible. They are not meant to do this; they are not meant to have this, either as necromancer and cavalier or just as Harrowhark and Gideon. They were never built for it.