Page 23 of These Immortal Truths
Anna stands off to the side, trying to find a moment of solitude but unwilling to remove herself from the celebration completely. Piers’ smile, even from all the way across the terrace, is bright enough to warm her heart. She believes, truly, that he will be happy. Right now, with the weight of an imminent goodbye looming ahead, it’s enough.
“Quite the party.”
An unfamiliar voice to match his unfamiliar face. Dark blonde hair curls softly around his ears, his brown eyes sharp. Anna has never seen him in her life, but the finery of his clothing gives him away. In a wedding of a midwife’s son and a baker’s daughter, and he does anything but blend in. She relaxes, her smile bittersweet. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Khiran raises a brow, his mask still perfectly in place. If it weren’t for his attire, he might have convinced her she was wrong. “Oh?”
Anna looks over the crowd and spots Piers dancing with his bride. She’s a sweet girl. Anna couldn’t wish more for them. “He’s alive,” she breathes, and in that moment she feels the wonder of it. “He’s healthy and happy, and his life is only just starting. You gave that to him.” She looks to him, hopes he sees the truth of her words reflected in her eyes. “Thank you.”
He shakes his head. “I gave you some things to get you by, nothing more.” Subtly, his hand gestures to the dancing and the wine-drunk laughter. “You are the one who fed him—who raised him. This life was given to him by the grace of your hands, not mine.”
Anna could argue, but she feels like it would be wasted. Instead, she says, “I didn’t know you to be humble.”
“I’m not.” His gaze briefly lowers, and Anna realizes she’s openly fiddling with the ring—hisring—on her finger.
She flushes, dropping her hands and hiding them behind her back. “I thought I’d see you sooner.”
His head tilts, appraising. “You had no need of me.”
A laugh leaves her, but it’s brittle at the edges. “And I do now?”
He stares in that unnerving way that makes her feel stripped bare. Funny how he’s always been able to see right through her when she wears a mask so convincingly for everyone else. “Yes, I think you might.”
The smile she wears withers. “It’s my son’s wedding.” Repeated words, a shield she knows has failed her.
“And yet you’re watching the festivities instead of joining them.” His arms cross over his chest, looking over the crowd. Anna’s relieved to be out from under his stare. “When are you leaving?”
Anna closes her eyes, the fight leaving her with a trembling sigh. “Tonight.”
“Does he know?” At her answering silence, he shakes his head. “No, of course he doesn’t. That would mean saying goodbye.”
Flinching, she fights the urge to argue what they both know is true. “I’ve stayed here too long. Some of the women are already talking.” Little whispers about what secrets she must be hoarding for her face to stay so youthful and unchanged.
She should have left years ago—the moment Piers got a job at the docks—but she couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him alone. After tonight, Anna knows he won’t be. He’ll have Maria and, in time, children of his own to fill his home and fill his heart.
“It’s never hurt to leave before,” she confesses, voice as shaky as her heart. “I don’t know how to do this.”
Khiran sighs, offering a gentle touch to her shoulder for comfort. “Then wait. What is a few more days? A few more weeks?” He tips his head to the party at her back. “Enjoy this moment and save the goodbyes for a time that won’t leave either of you bitter.”
Except she can’t. To stay longer will only strengthen her wish to stay forever.
“You could always tell him the truth.”
The suggestion is even more horrifying than the last, but before she can respond, Piers’ voice reaches her.
“Maman?”
Piers stands behind her, his face flushed with drink and happiness even as he looks between them curiously. Anna knows he’s waiting for an introduction she won’t be giving. She gives Khiran afinal, parting nod as she takes Piers’ arm and leads him back into the crowd. “Where is Maria? Don’t tell me you’ve gone and lost your bride so soon.”
Piers frowns, looking over his shoulder. “Maman, who was that?”
“An old friend.”
The bridge of his nose creases skeptically. “You don’t have any old friends.”
“Don’t be rude.”
“It’s not rude, it’s the truth,” he mumbles, looking at her oddly. “You didn’t have to stop speaking to him on my account.”
