Page 26 of These Godly Lies
She takes his hand, their fingers lacing. It’s not enough to erase the shadows under his eyes, but she hopes it’s enough to remind him that he’s not alone. Not here and not in his grief. He gives her fingers a gentle squeeze. It feels like gratitude.
“We need some provisions.” He glances down at her, a frown creasing his brow. “When was the last time you ate?”
The smells wafting from the various restaurants have been teasing her since she opened the truck door. “Yesterday morning.” She doesn’t remind him that it was his last meal, too. She suspects she’s not the only one whose hunger was swallowed by despair.
He nods. “Food first, then.” A moment of consideration, and he adds, “And coffee.”
She’s not sure what she was expecting, but the Baazar is huge. A network of brightly painted domed ceilings and a labyrinth of narrow streets filled with everything from a kaleidoscope of mosaic glass lanterns to spices. Large arched windows let in a stream of light over their heads. Cats roam freely, some of them curling up contently in the booths—napping on heaping stacks of vibrantly colored rugs.Anna takes it in, momentarily breathless by the unexpected beauty of it.
“It’s grown over the years, but the oldest parts of the Baazar have been here since the 15th century.” Khiran tells her, allowing her a moment to let her eyes wander.
“Grown?” Anna echoes, turning to him curiously. “How large is it?”
He frowns in thought. “If memory serves, there’s over several thousand shops.” Anna blinks, stunned, and his eyes soften—the corners of his mouth twitching in a shadow of a smile. “I’m afraid you won’t be able to appreciate it fully. Not today.”
She nods, her eyes scanning the faces in the crowd. “Do you think we’re safe here?”
Khiran hesitates. “Marcia will have already followed us as far as the Balkan Mountains. She’ll be tracking us from there. As long as I don’t give her magic to trace, time is on our side. Our dear friend, Albena, did us a greater service than she realizes in driving us as far as she did.”
“Good. That’s good.” The tension in her shoulders, the unspoken fear coiled around her heart like a noose, goes slack. “Because food sounds like a really good idea.”
He breathes a laugh, the sound weak and rough around the edges, but honest.
They stop by a jeweler first. Khiran sells a bit of gold in exchange for lira, the local currency, before he leads them down the winding streets in search of food. At a bakery stall, he purchases a ring of sesame crusted bread called simit. With it already being late afternoon, it’s a few hours old and no longer warm, but Anna still enjoys the taste of the molasses dipped bread on her tongue and the crunch of sesame seeds between her teeth.
When they sit for coffee, Anna admires the way it pours from the copper kettle. An orange tabby winds between her ankles, purring when she reaches down to scratch beneath its chin. “There are so many cats.”
Khiran sips his coffee, sighing against the rim as the heat curlsagainst his tongue. “They’re revered in Islamic culture.” He glances down at the tabby, offering his hand. A trilling meow, and the cat pushes its cheek into his crooked fingers. “The people of this city care for them—feed them, provide them shelter. They roam freely and are treated with kindness.”
She brings her own cup to her lips. It’s thicker than the coffee she’s had at diners. It proves to be exponentially stronger, too. She swallows, the rich and earthy taste sitting on her tongue. “It’s… bracing.”
He takes another sip, his expression as dark as the coffee over the rim of pale china. “Bracing is exactly what I need at the moment,” he grumbles.
Anna feels herself grow increasingly uncomfortable as they get closer. The grounds are large, the landscaping manicured, but it’s the sprawling villa that makes her hesitate. “This is…”
“Excessive,” Khiran grumbles. “It suits him.”
Anna measures the tension in his shoulders, the hardness of his gaze as he stares ahead. “You’re worried.”
“I don’t like trusting our safety to someone else.”
She shakes her head. “It’s more than that. The moment Silas suggested it, you hated the idea.”
“Cassius is no friend to me,” he grumbles, jaw tight. “I have doubts over whether he will help.”
Anna watches him, noting the way he doesn’t return her stare. “You think he’ll turn on us.”
Khiran’s lips thin. “I think it’spossible.”
“Silas wouldn’t have sent us here if he had doubts,” she reassures, but the words feel like they’re for her as much as they are for him. “That’s his gift, right? Knowing when and where to seek safety?”
“Figured that out, did you?”
She shrugs, her eyes drifting back to the Roman style pillars lining the villa’s entrance like the ivory keys of a piano. “Once I knew he was like you, it wasn’t much of a leap. The way he would stand so still… it was like the swamp itself was speaking to him.”
“That’s part of it,” he admits. “I always believed he was touched by luck as well.”
Anna frowns. “Believed?”
