Page 35 of These Immortal Truths
“How am I to believe that,” she whispers, not unkindly. “You, who can travel the world in the space of a blink and change your form as easily as it pleases you? But something likethisis what you have no control over?”
“I don’t make a habit of lying to you.”
She scoffs. “You once told me that the God of Lies was one of your titles.”
He shrugs, unoffended. “It is. I’m as much in a position to tell the truth to mortals as they are to hear it. The influence I have on this world is only achieved with trickery and lies. A whispered suggestion here, an accusation there. It’s annoyingly indirect, but it gets the job done.”
Frowning, she asks, “The job?”
Khiran gives her an amused, but puzzled glance. “Did you think you were the only one trying to better the world?”
Did she? For so long she has only ever seen him on the edge of tragedies without ever having a hand in it. She’s not sure it everoccurred to her that he might be plucking at the strings of kings and emperors—influencing those with power without them ever knowing the difference. She never considered the lives he must be saving on such a grander scale.
The shadow of a smile curling the corners of his mouth, dims. He looks disappointed. “Ah, I see.”
“I didn’t,” she blurts, face flushing. She tries again. “I’ve only ever seen things as they are, I don’t—I’ve never stopped to think about the larger picture.” She catches his eyes, hopes he understands. “I’m just … trying to help the people around me survive.”
“It’s ok, Anna. I can’t blame you over something I’ve never bothered to explain. I suppose I assumed Eira—” He laughs under his breath, the sound more honest than she would have expected. Taking her abandoned cup, he helps himself to the wine she’s forgotten about. “But, no. I suppose she wouldn’t. Would she?”
Anna watches as he takes a measured sip. “She didn’t seem very fond of you.”
Over the cup’s rim, his grin is sly and full of secrets. “Oh, she’s fond of me. She just goes through periods of time where she doesn’t particularly like me. Easier to hold a grudge when your years are without limit.”
Anna frowns. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Stay here—spend time with your lovely, large extended family—and I can assure you there will come a time where you knowpreciselywhat I’m talking about.” He looks out over the house she once called home. “It’s impossible to get close to someone without disliking them every now and then.”
The crease in her brow smoothes over with understanding. Raising Piers, she had learned that loving someone deeply doesn’t always mean getting along. During his older years, there had been a time where they struggled to connect—to bridge the gap between her instinct to protect him and his desire for independence. Love—family—is a tricky thing.
It’s just another reason why letting herself get too close is a recipe for more heartache.
“If you’re trying to convince me to stay, you’re doing a horrible job of it.”
Sighing deeply, he takes a final drink before setting the cup on the table. Anna can tell by the sound alone that it’s empty. “The only thing I would ever dare to convince you of, is to give yourself a chance to be happy. Tell me that it won’t, Anna. Tell me that staying, living with the descendants of the son you loved so fiercely, won’t bring you happiness. Tell me that, and I won’t utter another word about it.”
Anna looks away, knowing that he’s right. There would be beauty in staying; happiness found in even the most mundane laughter. What he doesn’t seem to understand is that it’s not the staying that scares her, but theleaving. “It will hurt.”
“Goodbyes always hurt,” he says, fingers folding over his knee. “That is the nature of them.”
Anna’s lips thin. “Again, you’re doing a terrible job convincing me.”
She expects his laughter, perhaps even irritation, but all she receives is a knowing smile. “Was he worth it? Your son? Was knowing him worth the pain of saying goodbye?”
Behind her ribs, her heart stutters and her lungs ache for the breath she can’t bring herself to take. She has no doubt that he knows the answer as surely as she does. She can see it in the curve of his smile; the soft understanding in his gaze. Anna swallows the emotion tightening her throat, blinks away the tears before they can fall. “Always.”
She stays.
Only for a little over six years, but it’s enough to fill the emptiness that saying goodbye to Piers had left behind. Long enough to heal.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Blood is a river, a grotesque serpent slithering down the temple steps and pooling at his feet. Ashes fall like snow, dusting his head and shoulders. It burns with the force of his failure.
SEVILLE, SPAIN
1522
Crowds line the Guadalquivir River, every person fighting for a glance of the ship being towed, its hull rotted and its passengers skeletal.
