Gertie, I thought, and slid down the wall.
“You had a split second to make a decision,” Rosier said. “Exhausted, in the middle of battle, whilst freezing to death. You made the wrong one. It happens.”
“It doesn’t happen. It can’t happen.”
“You can’t hold yourself to that kind of standard. No one—”
He broke off when I put my head in my hands, as if realizing that the last thing I needed was another lecture. For a while, we just sat there in silence, me trying to think and Rosier . . . not doing much of anything. Because what was there to do?
“I never thanked you,” I finally said, “did I?”
His eyes were closed, and they didn’t open. But his voice sounded alert enough when he spoke. “Thanked me?”
“For helping, back at Nimue’s. I think I might have lost it, and gotten us all killed, if you hadn’t . . . intervened. So thank you.”
“What are you talking about?”
Rosier didn’t have any eyebrows yet, but he wrinkled some skin at
me. And yeah, I guessed some crazy stuff had happened since then, hadn’t it? “In the corridor,” I said. “You know, with the two fey?”
The wrinkling continued.
“In front of the portal?” I could feel myself blushing. Trust Rosier to make a simple thank-you awkward!
“I simply told you where the gate was,” he said, opening his eyes. “Although I didn’t expect you to plow through a cave-in headfirst! I still maintain—”
“I’m not talking about that,” I said, wishing I’d never brought it up.
“What, then?”
“Never mind!”
“You can’t thank me for something and not tell me what it is,” he said testily. “And it’s not as if we have anything else to—”
“The sex, okay?” I snapped, spelling it out. “Happy now? Thank you for help with the sex!”
He blinked. “What?”
I glared at him, too tired to be interested in games. “Drop the act. I know it was you. You did the same thing in the car—”
“What car?” He scowled. “When have we been near any—”
“A couple of weeks ago? Spartoi? Dragon’s blood? Ring any bells?” I made every sentence a question because Rosier still looked clueless. Although why, I had no idea.
It had been memorable.
A few weeks ago, Pritkin had been injured in a fight with the Spartoi. In fact, he’d been about to die, but we hadn’t been near any help, and it might not have mattered if we had. Regular old dragon’s blood is bad, but the blood of a shape-shifting demigod son of Ares was on a whole different level, and he’d been covered with it. It had been eating him alive.
I’d had to sit there, watching him die, with no ability to do anything. Except for the obvious, because incubi only heal one way. But he hadn’t been responding, hadn’t even seemed to know I was there, and I’d been frantic because I was about to lose him—
Until Rosier showed up, in spirit form, and used his powers the same way he had at Nimue’s tonight.
“You saved us tonight, like you did in the car,” I said, slowly and distinctly. “I was panicking, and you helped, and I wanted you to know—”
“I didn’t.”
“What?”