Page 78 of These Immortal Truths
“And I believe I may have mentioned the hypocrisy of that statement coming from you.”
“There is a difference between having mercy and loving. My heart was never at risk. Yoursis.”
His chuckle is brittle, chipping away at the edges. “Oh, Eira. It’s too late for that. My heart is already in her hands and at her mercy.”
Eira shakes her head, the hand at her temple dropping to the table. The way she looks at him—with such concern and such heartbreak—makes something click in place. A missing piece of a puzzle she never thought to try solving.
She looks at him the way a mother looks at a son.
The waysheonce looked at Piers when she was worried for his safety. The revelation rocks her, makes it so she nearly misses her next words.
“He can’t find her,” Eira warns. Anna’s heart drops.
“He hasn’t yet.”
“Yes, nifty piece of ancient magic you picked up. Tell me, how much did you bleed for that ring on her finger?”
“It’s effective. That’s all that matters.”
“For now,” she says, the words brimming with fear and warnings. “Khiran, how long will she stay hidden from him whenyouare not?”
“I’m being careful.”
Anna can’t listen anymore, not when she has questions that areburning to be answered. The hinges creak as the door opens, a quiet scream in a silent room. Eira seems suspiciously unsurprised to see her, but Khiran’s head snaps to hers, eyes rimmed with secrets. She can see the exact moment he realizes that she’s heard far more than he’d wish.
“What are you talking about?” she asks, voice shaking. There are a million implications dancing around her. She’s lightheaded—dizzy—trying to focus. “Who can’t find me?”
His hands find hers. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
She steps out of his hold, ignores the flash of hurt that plays across his face. After their argument that afternoon—after he has already admitted to hiding truths to keep her from walking Eira’s path—it feels like the hand that gently held her heart only yesterday has her in a chokehold, nails digging into the softest parts of her.
She feelsmanipulated.
How many omissions has he fed her? How many paths did he steer her away from? He has reminded her from the very beginning that she’s no longer mortal, but right now she wonders if she has fallen into the same traps of influence and trickery that he has used to shape the human world for centuries. How foolish of her to believe that she would be any different.
Holding her ground, she takes her hurt and lets it simmer into bitterness. “Like Eira’s call?” she challenges, the words hissing past her teeth.
His hands drop to his sides. She hates the way he’s watching her—like she’s fragile. Like she’ll break. “I thought we had laid that to rest,” he offers, careful and measured.
“What good is an apology—how real can it be—if you stand here now and do the same?” Flushing, her chest heaves and her nails bite into her palms. “There is someone out there you fear finding me. Someone who, apparently, would wish to bring me harm. How can you claim honesty while shoving me in the dark?”
He hardens, gaze turning flinty. “This isn’t about you.”
It’s the drop of rain that breaks the dam; the subtle breeze that turns a flame into a blaze. She feels it, igniting her blood and spilling over her eyes. The words that leave her lips are liquid heat, crackingthrough the air between them like lightning. “Of course it’s about me!”
The room goes silent. A quick glance shows Eira’s seat empty. Anna’s not even sure when she excused herself. Khiran stands, the embodiment of stillness before a storm. Anna can feel the warnings crackle against her skin. Once, his power—his ancientness—scared her. It doesn’t now.
She carries her own strength, forged with time and melded with experience. There may never come a time where she can match his knowledge, she’ll always be centuries behind him, but wisdom is more than what you know. It’s more than what you’ve lived through.
“How can you say it’s anything else?” she challenges, the words dark with her anger. “When you so clearly want to keep me from it?”
She can hear the way his teeth clench, the bones groaning under the pressure. “There are some things you aren’t ready for.”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
“You’re my responsibility.”
She recoils. Struck. “Responsibility?” The word tastes foul, bitter disappointment paired with curdling resentment. “Is that what I am? Still?”
