““I’ve just told you why I’m worried, in detail, and I think that matters quite a lot.” “Camilla and Palamedes were loved by Nona,” said Paul. “Pyrrha was loved by Nona. It’s finished, it’s done. You can’t take /loved/ away. We loved you too. Palamedes and Camilla loved you.” Pyrrha was there too, floating into view above Nona’s head, in the darkness. Her mouth was set in that unmistakable /need-a-cigarette/ shape. “Don’t worry, kiddie,” she said tiredly. “I’ll keep loving you–my problem is I don’t know how to stop. And, you know … who you are … were … you’re capable of more than you think, right now. I liked you. He liked you–Gideon liked you. My necromancer and I always liked you … and hey, what’s /like/ except a love that hasn’t been invited indoors?””
— Nona the Ninth, by Tamsyn Muir
