5.39.n-5.44.n-Cat

The Thief of Stars’s flesh was like a fresh corpse’s, which was rather uncomfortable to think about so I did not linger over it. Her I could still take from, I found. One of the aspects tasted like… flight, cold and in the dark. The starlit one? Hard to tell, my senses in this were hardly exact.

...

That aside, my remaining choice was being the aspect that tasted of running away and the one that felt like well-placed hands. You can never have too many ways to leg it, I decided, and took the first. I leaned forward, allowing my cloak to drape over me and hide the sight of the small carved wishbone the aspect had taken the shape of from the Pilgrim even as I palmed it.

- Book 5, Chapter 39: Looting

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A heartbeat later seven wooden pillars began forming around me, glamoured or not, and shit that was bad. I’d seen this hold the Princess of High Noon, and these days I was just a mortal with too much mouth and prayer. The moment the runes came up I’d be stuck. I managed to sneak my hand into my cloak just as four eldritch runes began to glow around me, linked by a faint circle of light. Frozen in place, I let out a sigh as my glamour shattered like glass.

“Hierophant’s own magic,” I said. “Ironic, I’ll grant.”

...

My fingers couldn’t move, frozen as they were by the binding, and my power was bound as well. But the small carved wishbone was held in my hands and that was enough. Its power, after all, was not mine. Not bound.

“Abscond,” I said, my voice lacking power.

But the wishbone broke, and it was enough: a trail of stars guiding me, I slid out of the binding and my steps took me right behind the Good King.

- Book 5, Chapter 44: Small Slights