Trafalgar didn't answer the question. He looked at Esmond a moment longer, and turned his head a fraction toward Caelum, and that was answer enough.
Esmond understood at once. What little strength the water had put back into him went into one last, useless surge against the straps, his head twisting away, a raw sound climbing his throat.
"No. No, wait, I told you what you wanted, I answered, I..."
Caelum was already there. He caught the man's jaw with the same practiced ease as before, tipped his head back, and poured a fresh measure of pale liquid past his lips.
Esmond fought it the whole way, and it made no difference at all. The straps held him, the drug did the rest, and within a few breaths the fight drained out of his body by degrees until he lay slack against the bed once more, gone as deep as he'd been for the last two years.
