Page 58 of Tell No Tales
"We could keep him unconscious," Vadim offered.
Frost frowned. "No. That's unreliable, especially since he is still a healer. What if you inadvertently give him some healing power back?"
"Yvette and Coryn agree—death weaves don't work that way."
Frost shook his head. "I don't want to take that chance. You might need your full strength to heal someone. I heard your seeker fell overboard a few days ago."
Vadim didn't want to be reminded of that. "He did."
"He needed healing?"
He'd needed many things, a blowjob among them. Gods, Vadim wished he could still taste him on his tongue. He could quickly be addicted to Klaus's taste, the scent of his sweat, and the silky feel of skin beneath his bare hands. So much for working his way out of Klaus's system. He was more firmly cementing Klaus in his own heart with each attempt to rid the seeker of his crush.
"I healed him, yes."
"Jermain has a bad cough." Frost studied his hands, splaying one over the palm of the other and then reversing them. "Would you be able to help him?"
"Only if he consents to healing. You know how it works."
Frost's gaze snapped to his. "For life or death, but Martiz has never asked permission to heal minor afflictions."
The knife. Somehow, it all tied back to the knife. Vadim had yet to puzzle out how it worked. "I'll discuss it with Jermain. One question first."
Frost met his gaze. Vadim had always liked the ice weaver. He'd been distant but kind. Vadim hated to ask such a direct question, but his conscience wouldn't let it rest. "Did you ever suspect Martiz of wrongdoing?"
"I heard the stories, same as everyone, but they were secondhand at the tavern. Jermain heard them straight from the captains, mates, and quartermasters themselves. If I'd known what he'd done to you, I swear to you, I would have killed him long ago." Frost swallowed hard and offered his hand.
Vadim bowed his head and shook Frost's hand. Nothing would change the past. They could only move forward and try to fix the wrong Martiz had done. "Send Jermain up, and I'll see about his illness."
Alone, he allowed himself to feel his adverse emotions. Gratitude for Frost's admission and regret for not telling anyone battled for dominance. He let the feelings wash over him one at a time, equal parts good and bad.
He'd been too ashamed to disclose Martiz's actions before he left for the academy. He was a death weaver, after all. He should have been strong enough to drain Martiz of consciousness, with or without consent. What had stopped him?
Vadim heard Jermain's cough before he emerged from the hold. The morning light glistened off his sweaty forehead and deepened the pronounced circles beneath his eyes.
"Are you all right?"
Jermain leaned against the side of the captain's cabin. "Nothing a little time on deck won't cure."
"I can attempt to heal you, if you'd like." Vadim tugged at the finger of his glove.
Jermain nodded. "It might be just as well. Frost said to trust you."
"Yvette said healers always change what they heal." Vadim closed his eyes for a moment to gather his composure. "How many times has Martiz attempted to heal you?"
"I'm an old man," Jermain said. "You know as well as I do, he can't heal us forever."
"Did he change you? Did you have more or less air, or earth, or gain additional powers after his healing?"
"Not that I know of," Jermain said. "He never touched me with that dagger of his. Why? What are you thinking?"
"I wish I knew what he was doing, with or without the dagger." He removed his glove and held out his hand palm up. Jermain placed his hand in it, and a jolt of knowing passed between them. Vadim sensed the illness in Jermain's lungs. It had been there, festering, for many months.
"When were you last healed?"
"Two weeks ago."
Vadim shook his head. "No. This is much older. Festering. Possibly fatal if left untreated."
