The girl's first reaction, that fascinated awe and the hesitant way she reaches towards the construct, is close enough to what Harrow had been hoping for. It settles pleasantly over her, that sense of being appreciated, being beheld in even this small fraction of her power--only to be snatched away at the last moment when terms the girl ought not to know come falling out of her mouth. Her tight-pinched face screws up even further.

"Not like Palamedes," she says. Harrow studies her, realizing with no small amount of irritation that she has to look up into the face of this adolescent. Her eyes narrow. "He is...a competent necromancer, but his facility with bone is unequal to mine." She lets that sit in the air for a moment. "But...you do have the terms correct. I will grant that."