"Do not be ridiculous," she says, but Gideon's already moving, turning, coming again to rest. Something in the long stretch of her body recalls their last moments together--Harrow's weak necromancer's hands fisted in the other girl's shirt, how she'd pulled and pulled until she came free, until she was a crumpled weight on the ground--but Harrow pushes it away. Gideon's head on her thigh is a heavy, insistent presence, her golden eyes not vacant and staring but blazingly, brilliantly alive. Harrow leaves her hand linked with Gideon's, marking the rise and fall of her chest with each breath.