Page 43 of These Godly Lies
His huff of laughter fans over her collar. “Don’t be. You’ve done nothing to warrant it.”
Her fingers trail up his spine, sinking into his hair as she tries to arrange her feelings into words. “When I asked you to stay, I didn’t know it would cost you so much.”
A beat of silence, heavy enough for her to feel it, and he pullsaway. “I did,” he says, the words as firm as the hands on her hips. “I knew. And I chose you anyway. I would make it again, a hundred times over.”
Her heart sinks. Twists. “But—”
Khiran reaches for her, his hands framing her face. Anna can feel the calluses lining his palms. She knows they’ll be gone by morning, and he’ll have to earn them all over again. He holds her gaze, his eyes dark and warm in ways that make her melt into his touch. “Stop trying to shoulder blame that isn’t yours.”
There’s a comfort in routine.
During the early mornings, she shares a cup of chai with Master Tenzing and one of the younger monks to act as chaperon as he teaches her Tibetan. When the gong rings, she sits with the children during their classes and picks up what she can until the language becomes easier to follow. Soon, she’s able to listen to the lessons instead of handfuls of disjointed words.
At night, Khiran teaches her the art of silence—silent gasps, silent pleas for more. In the privacy of their room, they practice their own way of worship, whispering devotions against each other’s skin and finding salvation in each other’s touch.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
There is a blade hovering over his heart, ready to pry it from his ribs like a trophy, but it’s her fear that he feels, a bolt of lightning to his chest, that terrifies him. He told her to run. Why didn’t she justrun?
PHUKTALGOMPA, ZANSKARVALLEY
SUMMER1962
There is someone new in the temple.
Anna only knows because the children are abuzz about it. They whisper amongst each other, mouths stretched in grins so wide Anna can see their ears perking with the strength of it. She’s curious, of course. The temple receives few visitors, and the ones they do receive are usually expected: monks journeying from other temples, the usual travelers coming to give donations. Anna can tell this is different. The children are too excited, too enamored, for it to be anything other thanunexpected.
Then she catches snippets of their conversation.
“He’s so tall!” one says. “His skin is like the ink Master Kulo favors,” says another. Anna feels the tug of recognition, of hope, in her stomach. She has every reason to believe it’s a coincidence, that it’s just her heart hoping, but she scans the temple grounds just the same. Chasing that little thread of hope, she almost gives it up as a silly wish when she sees him.
Across the courtyard, talking with Master Tenzing, is Silas.
Anna stares, her smile growing as she watches her old friend’s cheeks dimple with laughter. He towers over the old master by a foot at least, but the height difference is even more pronounced by the way Master Tenzing’s spine curves over his cane.
As if feeling her gaze, Silas’ head turns, eyes catching hers. He raises his hand in greeting. The smile he gives her is bright enough to chase away the darkest of shadows.
She runs to him, heart skipping in her chest. Silas folds her into a hug once she reaches him, his tall frame dwarfing her small one. “It is good to see you, my friend.”
“You as well.” She hugs him back, an appreciative squeeze, before pulling away. Anna swallows, preparing her heart for the possibility of receiving an answer that could break it. “Did Jiro…?” She trails off, unable to finish the question. Silas understands it anyway.
“He’s safe. We made it to Chicago with no troubles. It wasn’t until the path didn’t reopen, that I realized something was wrong.” Grief clouds his gaze, softening his strong brow. “Eira will be missed.”
Anna’s chest goes tight, heart stuttering painfully behind her ribs. “Yes,” she agrees. “Very much so.”
Silas looks over her shoulder, a subtle frown pulling at his mouth when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. When his gaze returns to her, his voice dips low. “How is Khiran faring?”
Anna shifts, aware of the eyes on them. The children in particular seem entirely too curious. She can see their faces peeking from behind the stone terraced roof above them. “As well as expected,”she answers, sending Kipu a pointed look and shaking her head when he giggles and waves in response. Anna is finding it increasingly hard to smother the urge to smile back at his antics. “Why don’t we talk over tea?”
Silas’ mouth curls, his eyes straying to the youthful faces above them. “Tea would be lovely.”
Anna places a teapot filled with water and spices over the fire so the chai can brew while they speak, the smell of cloves and cardamom warming the air. Folding her legs, she sits on the rug across from him.
His eyes are honey soft, sweet and warm in ways that remind her how much she missed the gentle companionship they share. “You look well, my friend.”
Her answering smile is as honest as her words. “I am.”
He glances around the small room pointedly, a thread of concern tightening his mouth. “And Khiran? I expected him to be at your side. “
