There is a thing called skin hunger, and despite the horrifying name, it is not something that only happens to necromancers. It happens to, for instance, little girls whose parents see them as a living reminder of their own absolute moral nadir.

Harrow is, for the second time in a few short weeks, in the arms of an absolutely enormous swordswoman and has no idea how she is supposed to react. There is a roaring in her ears. As she did with Gideon, she pretends to be unconscious.

Until the inconvenient question. Damnation. "...99," she croaks, and then flops her head back dramatically.