Page 31 of These Godly Lies
“Anywhere.” He doesn’t bother hanging his coat, instead tossing it over the arm of a marble statue that looks like something a museum would spend a good amount of money on to add to their collection. “He wants to start a war,” he growls, the soles of his shoes slapping against the polished stone with every pacing step. “Worse, he’s got it in his head that you’re going to magically seal his victory.”
She takes a seat on the red velvet sofa, reaching down to remove her shoes. “Maybe I will.”
His head snaps toward her, steps faltering. A second, perhaps two, and his searching look hardens. “Don’t joke. Not about this.”
Sighing, she leans back into the cushions. It’s uncomfortably stiff, built more for looks than for comfort. “Would it be so terrible?” she asks. “Standing up to him?”
“You can’tpossiblybe asking me that. Anna, victory could be written in the stars, and it still wouldn’t be enough to convince me to riskyou.”
For a moment, she says nothing. Her fingers busy themselves with tracing looping designs in the velvet before chasing them away with a swipe of her hand. “Do you think he’s right?” she murmurs, breaking the silence. “About me being different?”
“We’re all different.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.” When he doesn’t answer, she continues. “Silas was surprised when I told him I didn’t have a gift beyond immortality, but you never mentioned it.”
“I thought the peach must have been weakened,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. “That perhaps the magic in it faded the longer it was plucked from the branch.”
“And now?”
“My opinion hasn’t changed.” He glances at her hand, resting on the ring encircling her finger. “There are other factors to consider.”
Anna reaches for it, running her thumb over the shallow etchings. The only jewelry he ever gave her. The one he insisted she never try to remove. Out of habit, she starts turning it and watchesthe way the light catches on the designs. “You said it hid me from their sight.”
“Marcia—” he cuts off, but Anna hears the rasp in his voice and thinks of ashes on the breeze. Thinks of how Eira’s last word wasrun. He clears his throat. “The ring masks your magic with my own.”
Her fingers slow to a stop, his meaning sinking into her like ink bleeding across a page. “You think in hiding me, it’s suppressing whatever gift I may have.”
There’s an apology in the way he flinches. Looks away. “It’s possible.”
Possible, because there’s no way to know for sure. Not unless…
Her grip on the ring turns tight. She can feel the etched edges pressing against the pad of her thumb. She hadn’t felt any different after she tasted immortality, but how would she if she didn’t know to look? Khiran had told her the magic was something that was discovered, maybe in the scant amount of time between burning on a pyre and slipping the ring of bone on her finger, she had a subtle power that was all her own, but never knew to look for it.
The only way to know would be to break free and sever the tie.
Khiran must see her thoughts, because his expression darkens. “It’s not worth it.”
“I know,” she murmurs. The words feel honest even as she says them. Perhaps there is some unknown power buried within her, strangled into quiet submission by the ring of bone that sits, snug on her finger. It wouldn’t be worth trading what she has for it.
The thought of being separated, of him being unable to find her, terrifies her in ways she’s never had to think about. She’s not sure there is a power worth trading that for.
“I would be lying if I told you I wasn’t curious—that I didn’t wish to know where your power ends and mine begins—but it doesn’t matter,” she says, hoping he hears the truth in it. “Not when the cost is you.”
He softens, the grim warnings in his scowl melting into something tragic and warm. The space between them shrinks into nothing as he kneels in front of her, his hands folding over hers on her lap. “I would give it all up, Anna. My immortality, my gifts, all of it. If itmeant you would be safe. If it meant we could greet every morning without fear of what the day might bring.” His hands slide forward, arms wrapping around her waist. Anna mimics the motion, pulling him closer, closer, until his face is cradled in the crook of her neck and her hands tangle in his hair. His words are a whisper over her heart. “I would give it all.”
Anna knows. She knows, because she feels the same way about him.
The dining room is as lavish as their rooms. The moldings are gilded in gold and frame the floral murals decorating the ceilings in soft pastels. A crystal chandelier hangs over the long polished wood table, its warm light illuminating a feast ill suited for only three people.
Cassius plucks a grape, his mouth curving into a sly smile. “I admit you’ve surprised me, Brother.”
“Stop calling me that.” The sharp edge of Khiran’s voice is dulled by the way the words echo around the brass goblet at his lips. It’s his third helping. Anna has no doubt he’ll be going for another refill before their meal is finished.
Tsking, Cassius sends Anna a conspiratorial look. “You see, this is why the idea of him settling down with someone as lovely as yourself is a struggle to wrap my mind around. He can be so terribly stubborn.”
Anna bites back a smile, helping herself to some pheasant. “I’m afraid we both are.” She sends Khiran a fond smile. He doesn’t return it, but she can see the subtle softening of his expression. “Sometimes I think that’s why we work so well.”
Popping the grape into his mouth, Cassius looks between them curiously. “You must tell me, Sister—may I call you Sister? I feel like we’re already family, at this point.” He plucks the carafe of wine from the table, ignoring Khiran’s glare and reaching over to refill hergoblet despite it still being half full. “Was it love at first sight? It must have been, surely?”
