A Graceling is, at best, half a monster. Some of them are not even worth that, with useless talents that only serve to frustrate Leck and make him do things he did not intend to do, like kill them quickly. He could almost regret it, but he does not make a habit of regretting things.

He can control and seize and warp, but he cannot feel out the edges of their minds the way he knows a monster could. All of his experiments are for naught, without a monster to be his advisor. No one had flinched when the Dells had learned so much advanced medicine at the hands of its king and monster. The problem with Monsea was obvious: Leck alone could not be king and monster, and he was only the brute force of the balance.

He hates that she escaped, years ago, and banished him back here, where things are dreary and no one challenges him or provides him any joy at all. She could have been his monster queen. Instead, he must be satisfied with the Gracelings he is working with for now. If he could join them up, perhaps Graces could be additive. He could build a monster of his own if he could not steal or grow one.

Instead, they always die. Leck hates them, and their plainness, and their stupid, ordinary selves, very nearly as much as he wishes he had been born rightfully monstrous instead of this half-useless Grace. He hates so much. But none so much as her.