Page 59 of These Immortal Truths
Silas eyes her curiously. There’s an unwavering calmness in him that Anna envies. “It’s you, Miss,” he says, voice hushed. “You’re the secret.”
Her lips part around a small intake of breath, eyes snapping to the door Khiran just left through. She doesn’t need to ask why, doesn’t need to hear the details. The evidence was written in theflash of fear that crossed Khiran’s face the moment he recognized Silas standing in the hallway.
Anna shakes her head, other questions begging to be asked sitting on her tongue. Silas cuts them all off with a finger to his lips and a glance down. Khiran’s magic has lifted. Their conversation now audible to the six sets of ears below. She swallows them down; holds them in for another time.
He glances at the door, his smile encouraging. “Miss Lydia,” he says, voice teasing. “I don’t recall you ever mentioning a husband.”
A second of confusion, and then she understands. These are their roles, these words are their script. Her name is not Lydia and he is not Silas—not really—but those are the characters they’re playing.
She breathes a laugh. It’s absurd, and yet time has taught her how to play her role well. She slips into it as effortlessly as Silas slipped between accents. “We’re not actually married.”
He hums, a secretive little smile playing on his full lips. “Well, ya’ll are something, alright.”
There’s a truth there, a toeing of the line they’ve made between their true selves and the characters they play. Anna doesn’t deny it—shecan’t—but she isn’t willing to discuss it either. Instead, she diverts the conversation. “I think it’s safe for everyone to come up. I don’t think he’ll be back tonight.”
Silas snorts on a laugh. “After your mister’s threats? I’d reckon he’ll be thinking twice before coming backat all.”
She doesn’t bother to correct the status of who Khiran is to her. “I hope you’re right, but just in case, let’s have them sleep in my room tonight and keep the curtains closed.”
Silas nods. “Can do, Miss Lydia.”
The smile he wears is approving. She can feel it in her chest; warm and comforting. The names they call each other by might not be real, but she gets the sense that the tentative friendship they haveis. “Thank you, Mister Silas,” she responds, smile soft. She tips her chin towards the door. “I believe I’ll get some air as well.”
His answering grin is warm and lined with playful skepticism, but he nods and doesn’t say anything other than a simple, “You do that.”
She fights the urge to huff, knowing full well it will only amuse him, and goes out the front door, the latch clicking behind her.
Anna finds Khiran on the porch, only steps away from the front door, leaning against the railing and looking out into the swamp. Anna settles beside him, their shoulders brushing. There are fireflies dancing between the trees, their reflections casting stars out onto the water. When she first settled there, the sounds that came from the swamp made her uneasy. Now, she finds comfort in it. Even when it sleeps, it never stops soundingalive.
“Is Silas his real name?” It’s not what she wants to ask, but it feels innocent enough to break the silence between them.
The tension he wears over his shoulders doesn’t ease, but he responds. “Is your real name Lydia?”
Anna smiles, ducking her head. “I suspected as much.”
She gives him a moment of peace before daring to break it. “I thought you couldn’t meddle?” she asks, voice mingling with the chorus of frogs. It’s the first of many questions she has for him tonight. The one that presses on her the most. She doesn’t look at him; she doesn’t need to. She can feel his irritation buzzing off his skin.
Khiran shifts, lips thin. “He left here unharmed, didn’t he?”
Anna bites back a smile. “He did.” She nudges his shoulder with her own. “I suppose it’s good he had no way of knowing you were bluffing.”
He remains quiet, staring out into the wilderness without seeing any of it. Anna’s smile dims, her fingers twisting the ring on her finger, over and over. The familiar repetition soothes her, but she wants more. It’s too easy to think of what-ifs when Khiran’s voice isn’t there to distract her and, right now, she wants to think about anything but what could have happened.
His arms are crossed, leaning on the rail. It puts his injured one closest to her. Even in the dim, with only the light seeping from the window behind them to see by, she can make out the raised red welts clawed across his skin. She reaches for his hand, fingers following one of the longer lines wrapping from forearm to wrist. “Does it hurt?”
His eyes follow as she maps out the injuries, but doesn’t flinch away from her touch. “We are immune to death, not to pain, unfortunately.” His wrist turns, palm up. Anna explores the lines of his palm and wonders if they stay the same between his forms. A testament to his true self, no matter the face he wears. “It’s just a scratch. It will be gone by morning.”
Anna licks her lips, searching for the best words to speak, but none of them feel entirely right. “How?” she murmurs, eyes searching his own. “I don’t bleed. I don’t bruise. How is it—”
“That I do?” His fingers close around her own, turning her hand so he can explore her palm with the same diligence she did his own. “We each have our strengths.” He traces over her heart line. “And our weaknesses.”
His hand rises, fingertips brushing against where she was struck. “Does it still hurt?” When Anna shakes her head, he presses his palm to her cheek. “You heal faster than the pain can last. It’s why you don’t bleed. Why you don’t burn. An outer shield.” His hand lowers, tapping her collar. “But a vulnerable center.”
She thinks of all the times she’s been ill over the centuries, thinks of the plague that would have killed her. It’s not a mystery she has ever cared to solve, but the way he explains it makes sense. The stinging pain of a burn has always left her as quickly as it came, but a fever will leave her feeling like she’s on fire for days.
Anna looks at his injuries. “And you? Have you never been sick?”
“No.” The smile touching the corners of his mouth is warm. “It seems we landed on opposite sides of that particular coin.”
