Page 58 of These Immortal Truths
Khiran hasn’t turned to her, not yet. He stands with his back to her, hands fisted at his sides and shoulders rigid. His body is a spring, tension under pressure, as he stares out the open door and into the darkness her eyes have no hope of seeing into. Then, after a tension filled moment, he closes the door with a gentleness that contrasts the controlled rage making his hands shake.
Anna steps forward, reaching for his injured hand. He lets her inspect it, his breathing deep and controlled. Her fingers trace the scrapes, eyes lifting to his. “An illusion?” she whispers, hoping.
His silence is long enough to answer for him. Anna’s lips part around her surprise, eyes widening.
How is it that he bleeds when she cannot?
“It will heal,” he says, voice carrying farther than it needs to. His eyes flick towards the bedroom pointedly, and Anna understands the message. Their conversation isn’t private and these words aren’t for others’ ears.
She swallows, nodding. Her hand slips away from his, but instead of breaking contact, his fingers reach up to touch her cheek—tracing the invisible lines of a bruise that will never show.
There’s a depth to his eyes, a regret, when he asks, “Is this the first time?”
Anna doesn’t ask him to elaborate—she knows what he’s asking. There have been some close calls over the centuries, but nothing thathas ever left her feeling this rattled. No one that ever came so close. “Yes.”
She’s just as adept at skirting around the truth as he is.
His eyes slide away from her, and Anna realizes with a pang that Silas is standing in the hall. “Oh, this is—”
“I know who he is,” Khiran murmurs, cutting her off. His body is a coil of nerves; his stare is sharp, pinning. Silas only smiles and looks to her instead.
“You alright, Miss Lydia?”
Anna looks between them, suspicion rising the longer she notes Khiran’s tension and Silas’ ease. “I’m fine, but, do you know each other?”
Silas looks to the man beside her, brow raised. A question and a challenge. A muscle in Khiran’s jaw jumps. Instead of answering, he poses another. “Why are you here?”
Silas takes a few steps forward, voice lowering and his accent changing from a low southern drawl to something smooth and ancient. “You’re worried over nothing, my friend. I am not here for her.” His gaze dips to the floor, to the people still hiding beneath it, before rising. “I am here for them.”
Slowly, the tension in Khiran’s shoulders eases. There’s an understanding there, a sudden realization. “You’re leading them to safety.”
Silas nods, his smile moon-bright against his midnight skin. “I am their shepherd through these wilds.”
Khiran offers a solemn nod. “And I trust that’s all you’re here for?”
Anna’s eyes are rimmed with questions as Silas meets her gaze, but his grin doesn’t fade as his accent returns to the one she’s familiar with. “Miss Lydia is a fine lady, but she don’t need no one to lead her nowhere.”
She shakes her head, retreating a step. “You’re—”
Likethem.
Like Khiran and Eira. A god wandering the world disguised as human.
Anna thinks of how successful they’ve been—how the people that come seeking their help always seem to make it to her safely.How he’s never been caught. She thinks about the fact that he’s never lost a single soul, despite all the dangers. Not a single one. She thinks of all the evenings they’ve spent together, his harmonica in his hand and sewing in hers. She thinks of the long notes that filled the cabin, the tunes he played that reminded her of times long since passed, and wonders how she missed it.
There are dimples in Silas’ answering smile, laughter lighting his dark eyes. “Like you.”
Her breath catches, the declaration sending her off balance, because no. That can’t be right. She’s immortal, but she’s no god. He’s mistaken, but she can’t find the right words to correct him.
Silas’ eyes slide to Khiran, giving her space to work out her thoughts. Anna doesn’t miss the way his expression changes, from jovial to serious. “Your secret is safe.”
Khiran releases a long breath, eyes closing briefly before he tips his chin in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”
“Secret?” Anna echoes, looking to Khiran. She knows he can read the questions in her eyes, which is why it hurts when he ignores them.
He looks away, a muscle in his jaw jumping. Anna’s not sure she’s ever seen him look so agitated. He gestures to the floorboards. “They’re growing restless with the silence. You should go assure them.” Turning, he doesn’t glance her way, but she knows instinctively that the words he murmurs under his breath are for her. “I need a moment.”
He goes through the front, the door shutting achingly quiet behind him. Anna marvels at the amount of control he exhibits, when she can still see the violence darkening his eyes. He seems more rattled than she is.
