Page 82 of Close Quarter
Rhys froze.
"Good night, Mr. Matherton." Vasil slipped away, up the deck and into the night.
How long it took him to walk back into the garden, Rhys didn't know. His face was wet, his eyes stung, his breathing harsh in his ears.
Thoughts flicked about his mind. Silas's laugh, the sharp hatred of Anax-bastard's snarl, his father's dismissal of him at the reading of his mother's will. The flash of a silver blade.
Rhys found Silas where he had left him, on the bench in the garden. Silas had lain down on the length of wood. His eyes were closed.
The sword lay under the bench.
Rhys knelt down by Silas's head. "I don't want you to die."
"Nor I, you." Silas did not open his eyes.
"I don't want you to sacrifice yourself for me."
Silas flicked open his eyes. They had returned to their warm-honey coloring. "Nor I, you."
"You didn't ask when you took energy to heal Vasil."
Silas turned onto his side and brushed two warm fingers over Rhys's cheek. "You didn't ask when you took my sword."
"There wasn't time."
Silas said nothing. Loudly.
"Damn it, Silas."
"You very nearly burned to death."
Silas's fingers against his lips stilled his next words.
"You nearly burned to death," Silas said, "because I could not act. Because I let myself get caught by Anaxandros. Because I let my emotions get the better of me. Again." Fire in those words.
"Vasil nearly died and now has the burden of Sight, and you nearly burned to death because of my weakness."
Rhys wrapped his fingers around Silas's wrist and pulled Silas's hand away. "You're blaming yourself again."
"Who else is there to blame?"
No one. Guilt twisted in Rhys's stomach. Not too long ago, he was heaping similar words on top of Silas. He let go of Silas's wrist. "You could let me help you. I mean, really help you."
Color touched Silas's cheeks. "I don't want to."
Yes. Obviously."Why?"
Silas stroked Rhys's cheek again. "I chose this path for me. I took the Messengers' sword. My life..." He withdrew his fingers. "Blood and ash and nights and death. That's the heart of my life, Rhys. It's far from the normal life of a fae. Why would I want to drag someone I love into that?"
Rhys fingered the burned edges of his tux's sleeves. Pieces of fabric broke off and fell to the tile floor. "But I'm already here."
Silas swallowed hard. "I know." Voice tight, he looked down at Rhys's arms. "And I am so very sorry that I have done this to you. If I had known --" He croaked a bitter laugh. "Ah, gods."
Rhys leaned forward and kissed him, pushing his tongue against the other man's lips until Silas relented and opened his mouth. Rhys plunged in, shifting to find a less awkward angle. He cupped Silas's face and licked and sucked at the other man's tongue until Silas uttered a deep groan. Then he pulled back. "If I had known, I still would have chased you down that hall."
Breathing hard, Silas lay his head back onto the bench. "Impetuous, rash--"
Rhys kissed him again, just to shut him up.
