Page 76 of These Immortal Truths
She pats her cheek, her smile dimming. “I need your help.”
Eira pours her a cup of tea—chamomile with a touch of honey. “You have heard the stories? The one with the witch who eats lost children in the woods?”
Anna frowns, uncertain where this conversation is heading. “Babayaga?”
Eira waves a flippant hand. “To some, it is Babayaga. To others it is only the witch. Sometimes the house sits on chicken legs, other times it’s made of gingerbread. The name and the story are not important.” She leans back into her chair and takes a long sip from her tea before sighing. “As you can see, this house is neither of those. Yet here we are.”
Setting her cup on the table, Eira folds her hands in her lap. “This is the home the hungry, abandoned children find. I promise they meet a much kinder fate than the stories give me credit for.”
It shouldn’t come as a surprise, really. For all the myths surrounding Khiran, it stands to reason that Eira would have earned some of her own. Still, Anna can’t fathom the connection. “You’reBabayaga?”
“I am Eira,” she corrects pointedly, huffing indignantly. “Honestly, I’d blame Khiran and that infuriatingly loose tongue of his, but I don’t think even he would spin stories that cast me so unfavorably.”
No, Anna suspects not. Khiran has too much respect for her to start rumors as horrid as eating children. He finds more enjoyment out of telling the truth and seeing how the world changes it—the longest running game of telephone.
Eira’s lips thin, fingers drumming over her lap. “They used to stumble upon my paths and stay until they were strong enough to stand a chance. Some still do, but not enough. Not anymore.” She makes a loose gesture to the walls. “Too many stories, too many warnings, I suppose.”
Her gaze is piercing. “My magic is tied to this place. I can open the way for travelers from any corner of the world, but only if I’m here to greet them.”
Anna’s eyes travel the room, her mind turning over the memories of being alone within these very walls. “I don’t understand. Youleft.”
She shrugs her aged shoulders. “I cannot stay here forever anymore than you can.” She takes a sip of her tea, sighing. “There is too much for the world to teach us, and I didn’t learn all I know by waiting within the safety of these walls.”
Thinking back, Anna had always found it a bit odd that Eira was so willing to leave so much behind. It must have been much easier, knowing that the home she built would be waiting for her, no matter where she went or how long she stayed away.
Anna lets the heat from her mug seep into her palms and takes comfort from the warmth. “What do you need of me?”
“I need you to lay the bread crumbs,” she says, leaning forward and taking Anna’s hand in her own. “I need you to lead them to my door.”
Khiran finds her hours later.
It’s enough time for her irritation to kindle into something hot, somethingburning.
Eira must feel it. She places her teacup on the table and stands, the wooden feet of the chair scraping dully against the stone. “I’ll give you both a moment.” Anna hears her murmur something to Khiran on the way out, but the words are so soft shecan’t decipher them. When the garden door closes behind her, he’s still standing—a grimace painted over his face. “Anna—”
“You knew,” she says, cutting off any excuse—any apology—he may have for her. Her anger is raw. Fresh. “You knew where that trail led. You knew what it was.”
He deflates, his sigh heavy. “Yes.”
She’s not sure if his honesty soothes or aggravates her. The hand on her cup tightens, her knuckles going pale. “You lied to me.”
A spark of indignation lights his eyes. “I didn’t. I—”
“You knew what it was and you still told me it was a game trail!”
“I said that’s what itlookedlike.” Her answering stare must tell him enough, because he winces. Tries again. “Which … isn’t a direct lie, but misguiding all the same. You’re right, it was wrong of me. I apologize.”
The anger leaves her, a dying breeze leaving her sails limp. She’s too hurt to carry it any longer, too eager to understand to let it get in her way. “Why?”
He pulls out the chair beside her, his elegant fingers easing her own away from the strangled grasp she has on Eira’s china. His thumbs brush over her knuckles, soft and soothing. “Because I knew what she would ask of you,” he murmurs, his eyes pained. “Because I knew you would agree.”
He’s right, but it does little to soothe the sting. Still, it’s a start. Her hands flex, fingers lacing into his own. “It’s my decision to agree to.”
Flinching, he doesn’t try to convince her otherwise. He lifts their joined hands, kissing her knuckle. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have interfered.”
It feels too easy. She had been prepared for him to offer more of a defense. “I’m staying with Eira. To help.”
“I suspected as much,” he murmurs, turning her hand and placing another kiss to the inside of her wrist. Anna’s pulse flutters beneath the gentle touch of his lips. “Your things were packed. Did you even know what she was asking, before you decided to stay?”
