“How does this fucking thing work?” the prince screeches. “Shit!” “Such a broad and varied vocabulary you have,” Zoltan says dryly. “Did your father teach you nothing of merfolk and magic?” “Not much,” snarls the prince. “Perhaps he realized that the more you knew about sources of power, the more dangerous you would become,” says Zoltan. “You are neither intelligent nor persistent. You grasp at each new shiny thing, destructively, foolishly, selfishly.”
