Page 80 of Close Quarter
"I promised Vasil I'd help him finish cleaning up the bar."
The sword in Silas's hand flashed as he shifted his arm. He did not reply.
"It's not necessary." A gust of wind swirled the ash at Vasil's feet. "And I believe Mr. Quint needs your assistance more than I do." He nodded to both of them and walked toward the stern of the ship.
Silence fell over the deck. Then Silas spoke.
"I owe him quite a recompense for what I have done to him."
"What you have done to him?" Rhys didn't bother to keep the anger from his voice. Emotions tumbled like rocks in his gut. Fear that Silas would die, bitterness that Silas had stolen element without thought, and terror that they'd never see morning.
Silas laid his sword down on the deck. He placed both hands on his thighs and looked at Rhys. "He can't be glamoured. He's seen too much of the truth. Bitten by a vampire. Healed by a fae."
He shook his head. "He won't be able to ignore us anymore. His mind has learned how to see."
"So he's like me?"
Lines formed on Silas's forehead for a moment before smoothing out. When he spoke, his words were gentler than before. "In a way, yes."
"Then maybe he should be the one giving you assistance." Rhys rose, turned toward the sea. The view held no comfort. He watched Silas from the corner of his eye. A cold nausea rose in his throat.
All that talk about Silas not wanting to use Rhys.
The arm Silas had gripped while healing Vasil still felt like lead.
Silas grunted. "Fine." He gripped the sword and used it to help him to his feet. Twice he swayed, and Rhys almost--almost--reached out to catch him.
When Silas straightened, he ran a hand through his matted and bloodstained hair. "We should discuss what just happened."
Understatement of the year. "Yes."
"I do need to sit in the garden for a bit. As I said to Vasil, there's nothing I can do about the blood loss, but the poison... Well, let's just say that Anaxandros knows quite well how to cripple me."
Rhys stared at the waves, caught between the desire to scream at Silas and the need to take the man in his arms and soothe his pain.
Silas grunted again. "Take my key card, then.
I'll meet you back in my room when I've healed a bit more."
Heat touched Rhys's face. He turned away from the sea. "I didn't say I wouldn't come with you."
The key card in Silas's too-pale hand shook.
"Nor did you say you would."
"I'll come," Rhys said. "I could use some time in the garden too." Despite his healed arms, his joints ached, and the tips of his fingers prickled.
Silas slid the card back into his pocket and walked toward the garden. With each step, he paused to correct his balance. At this rate, it would be dawn before they saw the inside of the greenhouse.
Rhys's throat tightened. He caught up in three short steps. "May I help you?"
There was no change in Silas's expression or tone of voice. Both remained flat. "I'd greatly appreciate that, yes."
Rhys supported Silas's trembling frame the entire walk to the garden, but the pulling of element Rhys expected wasn't there. Worry warred with his anger. Was Silas holding back out of pride? Or was he too ill to draw from Rhys?
Then again, he wasn't sure how he'd feel if Silas took energy unasked from him.
When they reached the garden, Rhys helped Silas to a bench--the same one they had used before. But he didn't sit. "Try not to kill any plants this time."
