Deeplight

by Frances Hardinge

It is always a consolation to imagine outrageously rich people miserable and drowning.

Stories were ruthless creatures and sometimes fattened themselves on bloody happenings.

Maybe sometimes there isn’t a right thing to do. Maybe there’s just lots of wrong answers, and you have to pick one you can bear—something that doesn’t break who you are.

“Eels always have spines,” he answered. “They just bend a lot.”