Your pluck will make it all the more rewarding to break you.” “It takes a lot to break me.” An imperious laugh vaults off Cerulean’s tongue. “You’re a human,” he says, as if that explains everything. “You bet, I am,” I say. “I’ve got frail bones, not to mention poor table manners. I’m not magically gifted, and I’ll die someday. Your kind think you’re so high and mighty. You think you’re the better species because you live forever, because you have strength and power you didn’t earn. Well, what you call powerful, I call lazy.
