The irrational thought I would be thirteen if I were in another House almost blurts out of her mouth. Gideon wants a lecture about ‘how astronomy works, Griddle’ as much as she wants one about ‘how to be a proper nun, Nav.’ Instead, she chooses a much more infuriating option. “I was just the smallest toddler the Ninth House had ever seen,” Gideon says. There, now she’s thirteen. You’re not the only one that can cheat time.

In ten thooooooooousand years, no one in the Ninth has heard of a color as bright as one on Harrow’s face. If anyone did, the great aunts would die of shock. Harrow, the most Ninth nun to ever Ninth, is not one to throw off tradition.

She pauses. There was that time Harrow opened the Locked Tomb. Okay, all bets are off.

Gideon looks around them. The average age in the area has dropped fifty years at least. “What locale is this local faith in?” Gideon asks. “Did the Ninth branch out with an army of your constructs? You cannot go and make yourself god, Harrow.”