A Strange and Stubborn Endurance

In so many ways, I wish I could be other than I am. But I am only myself, beyond alteration.

Stolen me? As well to say a caged bird can be stolen by the sky.

Saints,” Caethari muttered, casting a longing glance towards the wine. “This is exhausting. Why is this exhausting?” “Because people are exhausting.

You fainted." "Yes." "Out of the way of a crossbow bolt?" "I am a man," croaked Velasin, with as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances, "of many talents.

If women were meant to be valued for their feminine skills, then why were the skills themselves devalued?

Yours is a strange and stubborn endurance, Velasin. Just like your mothers.” A strange and stubborn endurance. The words might have been a prophecy, for they never ceased to be relevant: not in my childhood, and certainly not to my adult self.

You must be patient with me, dear Cae, as I learn to inhabit myself.” “For you, anything.

Your feelings are not a burden. You are not a burden, and whatever happens in the future, I am not about to rush off and leave you just because things here are complicated.” He snorted. “After all, when have our lives not been complicated one way or another?

Take care of yourself,” signed Markel. “I know you’re out of practice, but please try.

You're not an inconvenience, Velasin. You're my husband.

We’ll catch up again soon,” she said. And then, with just a hint of smirk, “Go be with your husband.” Cae's neck flushed hot. “I will,” he said, loudly. “He’s very good company!” “I’m sure he is,” said Nairi, waggling her eyebrows. Cae turned away, heading to where he’d left Alik. “Fine, goodbye, I hate you!” “Hate you too!” she called cheerfully after him.

Which is why you wanted to marry the Ralian

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." That's ... oddly reassuring." Velasin lifted his head, and just like that, the tiny smile was back.

he carried too the determined self-possession of a survivor; that almost indefinable capacity, not just to endure, but to recover.

As Velasin swallowed and licked his lips, Cae wondered which particular god or saint he’d so displeased, to be subjected to this level of torment first thing in the morning. He was already doing his level best to accept his cohabitation with a beautiful man he was on no account to flirt with, let alone touch; he didn’t need such a vivid reminder of all the reasons why he might want to.

I felt a sudden, furious rush of sympathy for every Ralian woman who’d ever been the subject of marital bartering; I was ashamed of my prior indifference to the phenomenon, and wondered, with a certain, sick fascination, if being raised in expectation of such a fate made enduring it any easier. Remembering Lady Sine’s testimony, I doubted it.

…rest assured, making a spectacle of myself by kissing strange men at parties is one of my foremost skill sets.

I didn’t know wether I’d acted as I had because I wanted to live or because I hope to die; only that, either way, I hadn’t succeeded.

I should warn you, once we’ve sorted all this out, I’ll probably get a bit strange.” “Strange how?” “Oh, the usual.” Velasin flapped a hand. “Insecurity, mania, expecting you to read my mind, being generally impossible.

I swear, when it comes to unchecked proliferation, books are worse than spring hares.

All I could do was go forwards, into whatever small scrap of future remained for me. I didn’t look back.

Magic is intention channelled by will and executed by power. Charms are a simple use of intention; cantrips are a variable manipulation of intention; spells are complex products of intention. All magic derives from ambient power, including the strength of the caster. The caster is both a source of power and a conduit for it; the stronger the caster, the greater their ability to imbue or draw from sources beyond themselves, including latent sources. An ambient source is elemental, active and continuous;

It was like being haunted: I had no control over what apparently innocent thing would suddenly turn spectre, making me fear his hands, his voice, as though it were happening again; as though, in some ugly sense, it was happening still

Better to borrow milk than trouble—” “—but neglect sours all.