Reactions to advance reading copies of Nona the Ninth are torturing me.
The next one shows a poem that precedes the title page of Nona. It might be considered a slight spoiler, so beware.
In the appointed hour
I’ll pull up your sheets. I’ll kill the light,
Lie down beside you; die; and sleep the night.
This time will be the time we get it right;
Forgiveness not so hard, nor anger long;
Our graves will be less deep, our lies less true.
You held aloft the sword.
I still love y