Julian was achingly beautiful, but in the way a thunderstorm was beautiful — wild, rough, electric. And bound to leave devastation in his wake.

‘They’re fools,’ Reen’s voice whispered. ‘This entire plan will end in disaster—and your death will be your own fault for not leaving when you could.’

“I don’t drink,” Yadriel all but growled. He half expected Julian to guffaw or try to goad him into it. He braced himself, ready to argue on his own behalf. Instead, Julian just nodded. “My bad!” And then he was off to the next thing that caught his attention, leaving Yadriel standing there. He watched Julian as he wandered off toward a girl in a corn costume who had elote in stacks on catering trays she was selling for a dollar. Deflated, Yadriel wondered if he’d ever stop being surprised by Julian Diaz.

It hadn’t mattered to to Kelsier and the others that she drained their resources—they hadn’t exploited her weakened state, but had cared for her, each one spending time at her bedside.

“Isn’t doing nothing a kind of troublemaking?” “Doing nothing is doing nothing.” “Doing nothing is as good as collaborating.”