A Strange and Stubborn Endurance (The Tithenai Chronicles #1)

by Foz Meadows

Bare days ago, he’d been angry at the thought of marrying a foreign stranger; now he lay awake worrying for Velasin’s safety. Bad enough that some nameless coterie wanted him dead—did he really have to exhibit all the self-preservation instincts of a duckling, too? The man seemed wholly incapable of acknowledging his own limits, let alone sticking to them:

“Velasin, you might be adrift, you might be hurt and healing, but you’re not damaged.” “I feel damaged,” he said, softly. Cae inhaled, staring at the floor as he struggled to find his words. Finally, he said, “I can’t tell you how to feel about yourself, but I can say I don’t share the sentiment. That’s not how I think of you. That’s never how I’ve thought of you.”

I cared only that there was a vacant chair, into which I collapsed with trembling legs, still struggling—stupidly, wretchedly—to breathe, spots dancing in the edges of my vision. Though the floor was bare stone, Caethari knelt beside me, placing a warm hand on my arm. “Breathe in,” he murmured, and somehow I complied, holding the breath until he gave a gentle squeeze and said, “Breathe out.” I hated that it worked; hated that I needed it at all, and yet it did, and I did, and despite the shame I let him soothe me, following his soft instructions until my vision cleared and my chest stopped aching.

How can it even affect me at all, when I let it happen; when what I let happen was nothing compared with what it might’ve been?” I

“Take care of yourself,” signed Markel. “I know you’re out of practice, but please try.” I flapped a hand in not-quite-acknowledgement and left the infirmary, feeling somewhat lighter than I had on entry, if no less exhausted. Sleep would perhaps have been sensible, but just at that moment I lacked the wit to go and rest, as three separate people had now suggested I do, half out of fear that being alone with my own thoughts would cause my pending bill of distress to come due, and half out of sheer contrariness.

“My thanks for the food,” I said, and hurried back outside before either her kindness or her approval could inspire yet another complex feeling I’d have to deal with.

what if it was all possible, but nobody wanted me? To give up everything, only to learn that the fault was mine—that I wasn’t—that I couldn’t be wanted like that, not even in Tithena … I had rather stay in Ralia and never know, than leave and have that fear confirmed.” Caethari’s eyes were impossibly soft. “Of all the things you have to fear in Tithena, Velasin, being unwanted is not among them.” Oh. I ducked my head, heart pounding wildly. “That is … good to know,” I said,