His leg brushed mine as our horses drew close, and then he leaned over and gripped my arm, squeezing hard enough that I met his gaze. “Stop belittling yourself,” Caethari said. His hand released me, but his eyes did not; they pierced me, sharp as obsidian and just as beautiful. “You are not inadequate.” “Please,” I said, and it came out shaky. The conversation had already brought me perilously close to the edge of everything I’d been blocking out of my mind all day; too much kindness and I’d be lost. “Please, not here. You can fight me about myself tomorrow all you wish, but please—not now.”
