Page 14 of The Curse Between Us

The following day, Zephyr made it clear that there would be no business, no meetings, no regency affairs. The people of Eskarven had done well enough without him for this long; one more day would not cause irreparable damage. "You have managed this long without me," he said to Pierce, the regent. "You can manage one day more."

Pierce let out a dramatic sigh, a playful gleam in his eyes. "Run along, then, Zephyr. I suppose I can bear the burden of rule a little longer." He waved Zephyr off with mock exasperation, his amusement clearly visible.

Zephyr, grinning, gave a deep, mocking bow. "With your leave?" he asked, enjoying the jest.

"Yes, yes. Go." Pierce was far too accustomed to Zephyr’s antics to be fazed.

After teasing his cousin one last time, Zephyr made his way back to his chambers to find Edric, who had managed to sleep even later than Zephyr himself. The sight of Edric still sleeping, his features softened by slumber, was a rare and precious gift. The quiet beauty of his face in repose stirred something deep within Zephyr—a profound sense of peace and gratitude. This was a moment they could steal for themselves, a rare day where he didn’t have to think about ruling, about responsibilities. Today was for them.

Edric, unaware of Zephyr’s silent observation, was already awake by the time Zephyr entered. He stood by the window, his back to Zephyr, gazing out at the glittering snow and the distant palace grounds. The morning sunlight illuminated the room, casting a golden hue over everything it touched.

“I have a surprise for you,” Zephyr said, his voice light and full of excitement as he moved toward Edric.

“A surprise?” Edric turned to face him, his eyes wide with curiosity.

“Yes.” Zephyr grinned and gestured for him to follow. “Do you have the boots that were left for you? Good. Come with me.”

Edric raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing as he followed Zephyr through the winding halls of the palace. "Are there not things we should be doing today? Meetings with your regent, discussions about your coronation?" he asked, his tone betraying his concern.

Zephyr shook his head firmly. "Not today. Today is for us." His voice carried a quiet authority, the sort that Edric had long learned to respect.

A flash of pleasure passed through Edric's eyes, though he quickly masked it with a neutral expression. Zephyr could see, however, how the prospect of spending the day together—just the two of them—filled him with warmth. It was a beautiful, sunny morning. The cold was sharp enough to steal breath, but there was little wind to bite at their skin, making it a perfect day for what Zephyr had planned.

When they reached the side door of the palace, Zephyr paused, glancing over at Edric with a grin that spoke volumes. There, propped against the wall, were several wooden sleds, sturdy and clearly designed for more than just children’s play.

“What—?” Edric began, a curious frown forming on his face as he looked down at the sleds.

Zephyr grinned up at him, his energy and excitement contagious. "We are going sledding," he declared with unrestrained joy.

Edric eyed the sleds skeptically, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his thick cloak. “I’ve never—”

“Don’t worry,” Zephyr interrupted, passing him the rope tied to the largest sled. He slung the other sled over his own shoulder and moved towards the gate. “I’ll teach you.”

With a slight sigh, Edric reluctantly followed, his boots crunching through the snow. “Is this not an activity for children?” he asked, clearly unsure.

Zephyr laughed softly and shrugged. “Not at all. As you can see, these sleds are clearly made for fully-grown adults, and so, this is an activity for everyone, regardless of age.” He glanced over his shoulder at Edric, noting the skepticism still in his gaze.

Edric squinted at the slope ahead, raising one gloved hand to shield his eyes from the bright morning sun. “And we just… climb up a hill, then slide down it, only to do the same thing again?”

Zephyr shook his head, still smiling. "It’s much more fun than you make it sound, but yes.” He winked at Edric. “Try it. If you don’t enjoy it, we’ll find another way to pass the day.”

Edric’s pace increased as they made their way toward the hill, and Zephyr felt his heart lift with the prospect of having Edric fully in his element. "Very well," Edric relented. "I will indulge you and your strange customs, my lord, as I am a guest in your land."

Zephyr, still walking, caught the hesitation in Edric’s voice, but the words that followed, softer but unmistakably real, made his heart swell. “You are not a guest,” Zephyr said quietly, before he could stop himself. “You are my husband.”

Edric stopped dead in his tracks, and for a moment, the world seemed to still around them. Then, slowly, a smile spread across Edric's face, his eyes lighting up. “Then I will indulge you and your strange customs, husband.”

They shared a long, tender look before they continued up the slope, the weight of Zephyr’s words lingering in the air between them.

At the top of the hill, Zephyr set up Edric’s sled with great care, holding it steady while Edric climbed in, his movements somewhat awkward due to the thick layers of clothing they both wore. "Now hold to the rope, and—" With a gentle push, Zephyr sent Edric sliding down the slope, watching as he let out a surprised shout, the joy in his voice ringing clear.

Zephyr followed close behind, laughing as the wind whipped past him. The speed, the thrill of it all, was unlike anything he had felt in a long time. When he reached the bottom, he saw Edric already standing, an expression of joy and exhilaration on his face. "So?" Zephyr asked eagerly, his breath coming in quick bursts.

Edric grinned and, without warning, shoved Zephyr playfully to the ground. "I’ll race you to the top!" he declared, his voice full of energy.

Zephyr scrambled to his feet, chasing after Edric, but Edric was quicker, reaching the top with a triumphant grin. "Oh, very well," Zephyr sniffed, rolling his eyes, but his smile betrayed him. "I guarantee you I can reach the bottom before you, though."

“I’ll take that bet,” Edric said, already preparing to climb into his sled.

They raced up and down the hill for over an hour, laughing and shouting, until even Zephyr began to tire. “Truce?” he asked, his voice breathless as they reached the top once more.

“Truce,” Edric agreed, extending his hand to Zephyr.

But as Zephyr approached, Edric’s next move took him by surprise. "Edric, what are you—" Zephyr started, his words faltering as Edric pressed himself tightly against the sled, making space in front of him.

“Please?” Edric said softly, a glint of something tender and hopeful in his eyes.

Zephyr hesitated, then, with a slow exhale, he climbed into the sled, settling against Edric’s chest. The sensation of being so close to him was almost overwhelming. Edric’s arms wrapped around him gently but securely, holding him as they slid down the hill. Time stretched, the world narrowing to nothing but the warmth of Edric's chest against his back, the cold wind rushing past them, and the pure, untainted joy of the moment.

When they reached the bottom, Zephyr turned his head slowly, meeting Edric's gaze. The distance between them was almost nonexistent. Edric's cheeks were pink from the cold, his eyes sparkling, and the light of the afternoon sun made the freckles on his skin stand out sharply.

Before he could think twice, Zephyr reached out, his gloved hand cupping Edric’s cheek. Edric’s breath caught, his eyes fluttering closed at the touch.

“I want to kiss you,” Zephyr whispered, his voice low with longing. “Very badly.”

Edric’s eyes opened slowly, and he sighed softly, his voice trembling. “As do I.” He reached up, taking Zephyr’s hand and drawing it gently to his lips. “I wish—”

“I know,” Zephyr said, a soft, sad smile tugging at his lips. “As do I.”

They remained there for several moments, frozen in place, their faces mere inches apart. Zephyr could feel the heat of Edric’s breath against his skin, but the weight of their shared restraint held them in place. Finally, Zephyr dropped his hand with a quiet sigh. “We should be heading back,” he said reluctantly. “If I keep you out here much longer, you may catch ill from entirely natural causes.”

“Right,” Edric agreed, blinking as though waking from a dream. He gestured to the top of the hill. “Your sled is still—”

“I’ll get it,” Zephyr interrupted, shaking his head with a self-deprecating smile. "Wait here."

As he trudged back up the hill, he couldn’t help but reflect on how close they had come to breaking the fragile boundaries they had set. It was dangerous, but it was also undeniable. They had been so close—perhaps too close—but Zephyr knew that the temptation, as strong as it was, had to be resisted.

When he returned, the seriousness in Edric's eyes spoke volumes, and before Zephyr could open his mouth, Edric spoke first. "I know," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "It was a lapse of judgment. I cannot bear the thought of causing you that kind of pain again, Zephyr."

Zephyr met his gaze, his heart heavy with the same understanding. "We will be careful," he replied softly, and in that moment, he knew they would be. But the ache between them remained, undeniable, ever present.

◆◆◆

The next week passed in a whirlwind of council sessions, royal duties, and tours of the palace and surrounding areas. Each day was filled with meetings, speeches, and preparations for the future of Eskarven, but there were also moments of peace—precious, fleeting moments curled beside Edric in their wide, warm bed. These moments were the lifeline Zephyr clung to amidst the responsibilities of his newfound position as king.

On the fourth day, the long-awaited coronation took place in the grand Crystal Hall, a moment that Zephyr had anticipated with a mixture of solemnity and apprehension. The hall was magnificent, bathed in the shimmering light that reflected off the walls of crystal and ice. The beauty of the room was overwhelming, and as he stood there before the gathered crowd, Zephyr could barely recall the details of the ceremony itself—only the sound of the jubilant cheers that echoed from the high, vaulted ceilings and the sensation of the crown being placed upon his head. The weight of it was both literal and metaphorical, a reminder of all that had led him here and all that would follow.

But amid the grandeur of his coronation, there was a growing sense of unease—something Zephyr could not shake. Though he had ascended to his rightful place as king, his heart felt heavy with the knowledge of the future’s uncertainties. The week had been filled with triumph, but in the depths of it, something was wrong.

On the sixth day, Edric developed a cough.

It started innocently enough—just a dry throat that could easily be brushed off as the result of the cold, the long hours of travel, or the strain of the week’s events. But as the day wore on and the cough persisted, deepening with each passing hour, Zephyr’s heart sank. It was inevitable. The truth was starting to show itself, as it always did. The reprieve they had so eagerly stolen was coming to an end far too soon.

That night, as Edric coughed again in the quiet of their chamber, Zephyr felt his chest tighten with helplessness. “Sleep,” he urged gently, guiding Edric toward the bed though it was not yet late. “You’ll need the energy.”

Edric sighed but did as he was told, sinking into the pillows. “I will feel better in the morning,” he insisted, though they both knew it was a lie. The coughing fit had been harsher than the ones before, and Edric’s voice was rough with the effort.

“Of course you will,” Zephyr said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He resisted the urge to tuck the covers more securely around Edric’s shoulders, unwilling to make the moment more painful than it already was. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to rest while I attend to other matters.”

Edric’s lips parted, likely to protest, but his words were lost in another violent round of coughing. His head slumped back against the pillows, and with a wave of his hand, his eyes fluttered closed. “You will return soon?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Zephyr nodded, his heart like a stone in his chest. “As soon as I can.”

The door clicked shut quietly behind him, and as he walked through the palace halls, his steps quickened, frustration boiling in his veins. There was only one place where he knew he might find a moment’s peace.

The temple was at the far edge of the palace grounds, a smaller, humbler structure than its Rafrian counterpart but no less beautiful in its own way. As Zephyr entered the cold, shadowed sanctuary, he exhaled deeply, feeling the weight of the day settle in his bones. The flickering candles cast long shadows over the ice sculptures that lined the walls, their sharp, angular forms echoing the raw beauty of Eskarven. The silence was almost suffocating, but it was the kind of silence he needed—a space where he could hear only his own thoughts and his own heartbeat.

Zephyr made a slow circuit of the room, his fingers brushing lightly against the sculptures that told the ancient story of Plenty and Abyss. The figures of the battle were frozen in time—Plenty’s triumph as Abyss was cast down and imprisoned beneath the mountains. At the end of the four walls, a winding staircase descended into the catacombs where the royal ancestors rested, their bodies preserved in the frozen earth.

Hadden now rested among them. Zephyr’s hand lingered on the cold stone wall, a moment of quiet reflection before he stepped toward the staircase. He should pay his respects, but the thought of his ancestors—of the dead—felt so far removed from the turmoil in his chest. His mind was on the living, and more specifically, on Edric.

“You are troubled,” a soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

Zephyr jumped, startled by the sudden sound. His hand instinctively moved to the hilt of the dagger at his side, but he relaxed when he saw the figure emerge from the shadows. Clara stood there, her features soft and understanding.

“May I assist you, my king?” she asked, her voice steady, unwavering.

Zephyr let out a long breath, walking over to the low stone bench and sinking down onto it. “Please,” he murmured. “I could use some guidance.”

Clara joined him, settling gracefully on the cold stone beside him, her robes flowing around her as she mirrored his posture. There was no rush, no urgency in her movements, only quiet patience.

“Tell me,” she prompted, her voice warm with encouragement.

Zephyr traced a slow pattern into the cold floor, unwilling to meet her eyes. “Edric is falling ill,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “It started as just a cough—nothing serious. But it will worsen. I know it will.” His chest tightened as he continued, “And it has not even been a full week.”

Clara’s expression softened, and she laced her fingers together in front of her. She didn’t speak immediately but seemed to be considering his words carefully. “If we accept your theory that it is the foreign environment that causes this sickness,” she began, her tone deliberate, “it is possible that King Edric’s strengthened ties to his own land have hastened the effects of the illness.”

Zephyr blinked at her, confused. “Apologies, my lady. I do not understand.”

Clara sighed, her voice taking on the formal, commanding tone she used when presiding over ceremonies. “It is the struggle between our two lands that has kept them apart. As representatives of those lands, we too struggle when we cross into the other’s domain. This manifests physically, through illness. King Edric is deeply tied to his land, both by his royal blood and through his oath of kingship. It is possible that this deeper connection is accelerating the effects of the illness.”

A flicker of understanding passed through Zephyr, but with it came an uncomfortable thought. “Now that I have been crowned—”

“You might expect to see a similarly rapid decline, should you visit Rafria again,” Clara finished for him, her gaze steady and calm.

Zephyr stood abruptly, his frustration building. He ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. “It isn’t fair,” he muttered under his breath.

“No,” Clara agreed quietly, her voice filled with empathy. “It is not.” She tilted her head, as though considering him with newfound understanding. “You have done a good thing, my king. Agreeing to this treaty, to this marriage. But I am sorry that it has come at such a high personal cost to you.”

Zephyr sank back to the ground in front of her, his hands spread wide as he sought some answer, some clarity. “What do I do?” he asked, his voice thick with frustration. “Please, my lady, tell me what to do.”

Clara shook her head gently, her expression softening. “You can only do the best you can with the circumstances you have been given. There is wisdom in you, young as you are, and great strength. I believe you are being tested for a reason, though I cannot yet see what that reason may be.”

Zephyr sighed deeply, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I should hate to think of my suffering as meaningless.”

Clara raised an eyebrow, suddenly stern. “And do not forget that you are not the only one who is suffering,” she said quietly, her voice firm. At his confused frown, she gestured broadly toward the palace. “Go to him. Care for him while you can. We both know you will have to let him go, and soon.”

Zephyr felt a pang in his chest at her words, and he rose to his feet with a deep bow. “Thank you, my lady.”

Clara smiled slightly, her features softening with warmth. “I am always happy to be of service, my king. To you, and to the land.”

With a final bow, Zephyr left the temple, his heart heavy with everything he had just learned and everything that was still to come. He moved quickly through the halls, returning to his chambers as swiftly as he could. When he entered, he found Edric sound asleep, his breathing slow and steady despite the illness creeping through him. Zephyr undressed quietly, sliding into the bed beside him without disturbing him. Edric stirred slightly but didn’t wake, and Zephyr sighed in relief. For one more night, at least, they could have this.

◆◆◆

Edric was not better in the morning. Zephyr had been expecting that outcome, but it did not lessen the pain he felt when he woke to the sound of Edric’s coughing, to him pulling the blankets tightly around himself and curling into a ball in the centre of the bed. After several cups of hot tea and nourishing oats, he was steady enough to attend the day’s meetings, but Zephyr knew the time had come for him to depart.

When they retired to their chamber that night, he stood at the door, trying to find the words. Before he could begin, Edric sank onto the edge of the bed and met his gaze steadily from across the room. “It’s time, isn’t it,” he said.

Zephyr let out a slow breath and crossed to crouch in front of him. “Yes,” he answered quietly. “If you stay any longer, you may become too ill to travel. You promised me, Edric, when you said you would come here with me. You promised me you would leave while you still could.”

“I know.” Edric smiled ruefully. “And yet now that the time has come, I find myself reluctant to depart.”

“I wish you could stay.” Zephyr looked up at him, taking in the breadth of his shoulders, the healthy fullness of his cheeks. He could not bear to see Edric waste away here, the way he himself had in Rafria. He was just beginning to regain some of the strength and energy he had lost during his own illness. “I would show you the same care and consideration you showed to me. But I swore to Alec I would send you home to him, whole and healthy.”

Edric frowned, then, his eyes narrowing. “When did you and Alec discuss this matter without me?”

Zephyr shrugged, remembering that hushed conversation following Edric’s announcement that he would be accompanying Zephyr to Eskarven. Alec’s persuasive charm falling away in face of his concern for his brother, his coolness towards Zephyr vanishing in his desperation. “We have reached an understanding, Alec and I,” he said, evasive. “We share a concern for your well-being, and it is enough.”

“Hmn.” Edric still looked rather suspicious. “Am I to assume there were threats made against your own safety, should mine be compromised in any way?”

At that, Zephyr grinned. “No. But they may have been implied.”

“Even at the risk of his precious treaty?” Edric let out a low whistle. “I suppose I should be flattered.”

“That is unfair,” Zephyr chided him gently. “Your brother loves you, Edric. You should not take that lightly.”

Edric sighed, dropping his hands into his lap and looking down at them. “I know,” he said. “And he is right to worry, as are you. I can feel it”-- he lifted one hand and spread it across his chest-- “just here. A tightness. And an ache in my joints, like the first rumble of thunder before the storm erupts.”

Zephyr yearned to reach out, to take Edric into his arms and comfort him with the warmth of his own body, but he held himself back. If he did so, it would be too easy to seek the press of Edric’s lips against his own, to chase the feeling of bare skin on bare skin. Better that they not allow themselves the chance for such things to occur.

“In the morning, then,” he said, meeting Edric’s eyes. “In the morning, you will depart.”

Edric closed his eyes, a shudder passing through his body. “Yes.”

There was a pause, a moment while they both considered the future that awaited them, and then Edric opened his eyes once more, shining with fierce determination. “If that is to be the case,” he said, “will you do something for me before then, husband?”

“Anything,” Zephyr said. A reckless promise, but he trusted Edric.

A slow grin spread across Edric’s face as his eyes roved over Zephyr’s face and body, scorching him with their intensity. “We may not be able to touch each other,” he murmured, “but there is nothing that prevents us from touching ourselves.”

All the blood in Zephyr’s body rushed downwards, words failing him. He gaped at Edric, whose confident grin slowly faded as Zephyr made no response. “Unless-- forgive me, I was too bold. We never--”

“No.” Zephyr hastened to cut him off. “No, you misunderstand my silence. I--” He swallowed roughly, nearly letting out a groan at the mere thought of it. “I am awed by your cleverness, not shocked at your presumptuousness.”

Letting out a relieved sigh, Edric’s smile returned in full force. “So?” He leaned back slightly, one eyebrow raising.

“Yes.” It was barely above a whisper, but no less fervent for it. “By all the powers, yes.”

Zephyr scrambled to drag the large armchair closer to the bed as Edric began to pull his cloak over his head. They would need to keep some distance between themselves, and the chair would allow him to position himself for the best possible view.

He was strung too tightly to bother making a show of removing his clothes. Fortunately, it seemed Edric was in the same state, pulling off his thick woolen trousers with an impatient grunt as they tangled around his ankles. Mere moments later, they were both naked, and only then did Zephyr allow himself to look his fill.

Every gorgeous line of Edric’s body was on full display, the fire crackling in the hearth casting a warm glow over his exposed skin. He was turned slightly on his side, facing Zephyr, one hip jutting forward in a beckoning manner. Zephyr let out a shuddering breath and said, “I am the most fortunate of men.”

A pleased grin lit Edric’s features as his eyes travelled slowly down Zephyr’s own body. “Strange. I was thinking the exact same thing.”

“Even though we cannot--” Zephyr gestured to the space between them.

Edric’s face turned solemn, eyes shadowed. “Zephyr. I never expected to find myself married so suddenly, and it was to my great surprise that I found you an attractive husband. It was to my even greater surprise that I found myself wanting to touch you, not only with desire, but with affection. We cannot”-- he shrugged loosely, the muscles of his chest and shoulders rippling with the movement-- “but I would not trade this-- trade you-- for anything.”

Throat dry, Zephyr could only nod. He was aching with need, and though his own hands could never compare to the certain bliss of Edric’s touch, it would be enough. Licking his lips, he slowly trailed one hand down the centre of his chest, feeling Edric’s eyes follow its path. “I want to know how your hands would feel on me,” he confessed, voice low. “Rough, I imagine. Callused from years of holding a sword.”

“I imagine yours the same.” Edric was moving his hands across his own chest, barely brushing across his nipples. Zephyr watched every minute movement that he made, cataloguing them for the unlikely day he might be able to replicate them himself. “But gentle. Soft.”

“Yes,” Zephyr whispered. He rested one hand low on his torso, right above the base of his cock, and pressed down slightly. He was fully aroused, but he wanted to make this last, so he brought his hands upwards again, tracing over the lines of his hips. “You might hold me here. Dig your thumbs in while you smiled down at me.”

“While I kissed the side of your neck. It is bewitching, did you know?” Edric tilted his head to the side, exposing the rather tempting expanse of his own neck. “Is it sensitive?”

“Yes.” Zephyr ran the tips of two fingers down the column of his neck and shivered at the sensation that spread all through his body. “Very much so.” He repeated the movement, slower this time, luxuriating in the feel of Edric’s eyes on him as he did. “And you? Where are you sensitive?”

“Here.” Edric rolled one nipple between his fingers, gasping back an oath. “And here.” His hands skated over the soft-looking skin on his inner thighs.

Zephyr bit back a groan, imagining running his lips over those same spots. Teasing Edric with his mouth so close to his groin, so close to where he was hard and flushed with need. Taking him down to the root and feeling the weight of him on his tongue, feeling Edric’s hands thread through his hair as his breathing became unsteady.

He could resist it no longer. He wrapped one hand around his aching cock, head falling against the back of the chair in relief. Edric let out a shaky moan and did the same, both of them keeping their pace slow, watching each other. Zephyr noted the way Edric twisted his wrist, the way he added an occasional faster stroke to jolt himself out of his rhythm. He could hear the slick slide of skin against skin and the increasing harshness of their breath.

It was impossible to decide where to look: at the rosy head of Edric’s cock as it appeared and disappeared under his hand, or at his face, his lower lip caught between his teeth as a hiss of pleasure escaped him. “It has been a long time,” he said with an embarrassed laugh. “I may not--”

Zephyr nodded slowly. “It has been difficult to find a moment alone, has it not? Tell me, Edric.” He dropped his voice impossibly low, slowing the movements of his hand. “Did you think about it? Not when I was ill, but before. When we were sleeping apart, did your hands stray? Did you catch yourself just in time, then pass a frustrated night alone with your desire?” He smiled, then. “I know I did.”

“Zephyr--” Edric’s eyes were wide and glassy, his shoulders tense. “Please, keep talking.”

“Especially on our wedding night,” he continued. “You looked so striking that day, Edric. I could not take my eyes off you. And as satisfied as I was with our marriage, I could not help but wonder what it would be like were it more conventional, were we able to mark the occasion in a more traditional manner. I lay awake, sticky with sweat not only from the heat but from my lurid imaginings.” He let his eyes roam over the expanse of Edric’s skin, the freckles that dotted his body and the fine golden hairs glinting in the firelight. “I see now that they fell far short of the wondrous reality of you.”

Edric’s hand was flying quickly over his erection now, his lower body shifting against the mattress as he visibly strained towards climax. “Let me see you now,” Zephyr implored him. “Let me have this memory of you in utter bliss to carry with me, so that I may revisit it when we are apart and my hands are all I have.”

With a soft cry, Edric reached his peak, curling in on himself as he spilled over his own hand. Zephyr groaned at the sight and redoubled his own efforts, stroking himself with increasing speed. He could feel the tension coiling low in his belly, nearly at its breaking point.

He panted harshly as he swept his eyes over Edric’s body, relaxed now, wishing he could feel the press of it against his own. Wishing he could learn every inch of it, sink inside it, feel the warmth that radiated from Edric surround him in the most profound way.

As though reading his thoughts, Edric’s eyes flew open and locked on Zephyr’s, and he was lost to the crashing wave of his pleasure.

They stared at one another in the aftermath, as their bodies loosened and slumped bonelessly without the tension keeping them upright. “Well,” Edric said eventually, with a breathless laugh, “never let it be said that we have not made the best of our situation.”