"Thank you," Marcus said, sitting just a couple of steps away from Khaat. He had been in a rather one track mindset--taking care of his client. The look in her face when she had thought Brian was doomed was a look that largely haunted Marcus, although he had a very composed exterior.
The fact was that he cared very much for her. He had had decades of taking care of middle aged or elderly potbellied Bulgarian politicians who always reeked of stale cigarette smoke and cheap cherry rakia. He had grown to hate what he thought was overly fruity Bulgarian wine. The smell of it, now, repulsed him almost as much as the muggle cigarettes the Bulgarian men smoked so freely.
This was so different here. His client was so different now. She was sensitive, smart, and she didn't fight him at every turn or try to elude him. In fact, she had developed an instinctive habit of simply grabbing hold of him when things got dangerous. He was growing to prefer it. As small as she was, he was finding it was a very easy way to keep track of her and to leave a situation quickly. He never had to look for her.
And she was a bloody good companion. They had gotten to be quite close friends. He did care about her, and it impressed him that she cared deeply and genuinely about him enough that she never saw him as just part of the furniture. He was never invisible to her. She was good at cards, challenging at backgammon, and one of the finest chess players he'd seen. She smelled of lilies and flowers. It impressed him that she was a true lady--not someone who merely knew the theatrics of appearing to be a lady. And it certainly didn't hurt that she was amongst one of the most beautiful he had ever seen.
He opened the bottle of water and took a sip. It was nice and cold, and he hadn't realized he was thirsty until he had a chance to get something to drink.
"Marcus?" Khaat's voice called him, sounding soft, timid and frightened. She seemed to be startled. And then he realized. He was out of her eyesight. She had been afraid he'd left her.
"I'm here," he reassured her in a quiet, steady tone, touching her fingertips of her broken right arm. He saw her want to move her fingers to clutch his hand but her fingers didn't move. "They aren't going to move," he said to her. "Not for a few days. Here. I'll do it." He closed his hand around her fingertips--the closest she was going to get to anyone holding her hand for a few days. "Sorry. I was out of your sight. I'm sorry," he said. He felt her fingernail press just slightly into his hand. "I won't do it again. I promise. I'll be right here."
"Fi," she said, just barely above a whisper.
"Sorry. What?" he asked.
"I have to tell Fi. And Kieran...." her voice trailed off.
"Oh!" he said. No one had told Brian's brother or sister. He looked at Steven. He didn't think they usually sent for Kieran or Fi when Brian was injured. But this was a bit different. Marcus didn't know if Robert would want them sent for or not. Not wanting to rattle Khaat any further, he looked at Steven, nodding towards the stairs that went below deck as a silent request to ask Robert about sending word to Kieran and Fi.