"Who," says Gideon, grinning a little, even though it hurts, because Harrow is being nice to her and that's still too much of a novelty to pass up. "Who would even try, Crux would cry himself silly. I'm your cavalier, you dweeb; it's my privilege to break myself for you."

She shifts, winces, lies with the bald-faced confidence of the very tired and criminally earnest. "This! Nothing. I barely felt it. You can't get rid of me that easy, Reverend Daughter."