Silva had moved on, and that was for the best.
He had lost his only reason for living. He’d lost the ability to breathe without pain. He’d lost every ounce of dignity he possessed, which by all accounts wasn’t much to start with. He had no home, no job, no purpose, no reason to carry on.
But he had a chocolate milkshake and a stolen grabber, and that wasn’t nothing.
At this point, Tate thought, wheezing in pain as he dragged himself up the three shallow steps on the bus,not nothingwas the best he could do.
Silva
The Plundered Pixie was silent when she arrived that morning.
Aelin was sound asleep at her grandmother’s house, her great-grandmother already on scene, practically hopping from foot to foot, eager for an afternoon of unsupervised spoiling. The Pixie staff wouldn’t be around for several hours, and the alley was empty upon her arrival. Silva was glad of it. She didn’t have it in her to deal with conversations beyond the single one on her agenda. She wasn’t sure if she was even ready for that one.That one is going to be hard enough.
The hallway was dark when she entered it, pushing open the door from the alley, relieved to find that her key still worked.I guess that’s a good sign. She was aware of every creak in the ancient wood as she crept her way up the staircase to the apartment, taking note of the grocery delivery on the stoop.He’s here then.
A case of water, a case of energy drinks, a case of the fruit and nut-packed protein bars he used to keep in his office. There was nothing else. Silva frowned.Hardly groceries. There was abrown paper bag on top of the case of water, slightly crumpled, rolled tightly and stapled, indicating the groceries had been sitting there since the previous day, at least.
Good drugs ~ R
Silva pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. These clearly hadnotcome from a pharmacy.
There was no answer to her knock at the door. She’d been half expecting that. Once upon a time, she would have stood on these steps flailing with indecision, utterly bereft at the thought of being ignored by the orc inside, simultaneously flagellating herself for her desperate neediness and feeling sorry for herself over Tate’s inability to be transparent about anything.
That Silva, she reminded herself, sliding her key into the lock, was long gone. If he’d wanted to keep her out, he should have been more proactive about calling a locksmith.
The first thing she noticed after dragging in the completely insufficient grocery order was how empty the apartment still was. The last of her moving boxes had been removed two weeks prior, more than enough time for his to have been delivered. Silva had cleaned the blood from the floor after she’d left his side at the hospital, not wanting it to stain the tiles and feeling almost guilty as she did so, as if she were erasing him for good.
Looking at it now, no one could guess the big room had been the scene of his bloody arrival just two weeks earlier.
Two weeks.
Silva had gone straight to the hospital after leaving Aelin with her mother.
“I might need you to keep her overnight. I-I have to go to the hospital. A friend is hurt, and I don’t want to pick her up too late.”A friend. She knew her daughter would be fine. Aelin loved spending time with Silva’s mother and grandmother and knew that they would keep her well entertained.
She didn’t know what she’d been expecting upon her arrival in Starling Heights.Are you family?Yes, she was prepared to answer.
Too late, because there was alreadyfamilypresent speaking for Tate. Rukh had called Elshona, and the orc had met the ambulance at the hospital, identified herself as Tate’s next of kin, his medical power of attorney, and his voice in the world while he was unconscious.
Silva felt in the way, useless, relegated to the sideline, his long-ago birthday party all over again.
. . . And then, when the doctors had demanded to know what had happened to him, telling them he was suffering from a hemopneumothorax, needed to be intubated and have a chest tube placed to drain his collapsed lung, she’d been grateful thatshehad not been the one to stammer and lie before the human doctors.
After he was stabilized, she and the big orc woman stood silently beside his bed.
“Didn’t expect to see you again, lamby.”
Silva gave Elshona a ghost of a smile, nodding. “I could probably say the same to you. And yet here we are.”
“Here we are indeed.”
When Elshona had left to find coffee, Silva continued to sit there at his bedside, her fingertips resting on the crisp white hospital sheets, centimeters away from his hand, tears running down her face.
“Pleasedon’t die. If you die before we get a chance to talk about things, I’ll have you brought back to life just so that I can kill you myself. I know a witch.”
She was afraid to take his hand fully in hers, not wanting to jostle him, afraid of touching the IV in his hand and the tube in his side. She hooked her pinky finger around his, deemingthat safe enough, the contact of his skin enough to open the floodgates of her tears.
Five years. And now he was back.
