Page 35 of These Godly Lies
“Good.” Cassius tips his chin to the marbled sideboard. “If you could fetch a pen and paper from that cabinet, Little Bird. There’s a letter you need to write.”
Anna frowns, curious, but removes the napkin from her lap and pulls her chair away from the table. She shares a glance with Khiran as she stands, but he seems as bemused as she is. She finds thick sheets of paper and a fountain pen finer than anything she’s ever held in her life in the top drawer. “Who am I writing to?” she asks, moving her plate aside to make room for the paper.
“Silas.” When Anna’s head snaps up, he smirks around the rim of his cup. “Write to him, tell him where you’re going, and seal it. I’ll ensure he receives it.”
Anna looks between them, confused. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s a fail-safe,” Khiran says, his finger drumming on the table as he studies the man who calls him brother. “If there’s word that Marcia is on our trail, Silas can shepherd us to safety before she closes in on us.”
Cassius’ smile is crooked. “Precisely.”
The fountain pen feels heavy in her hands as she stares at the blank page in front of her. “Then the letter…”
Cassius finishes where she trailed off. “It’s so Silas knows where to find you, but Idon’t.” He leans back into his chair, watching her over the rim of his glass as he takes a long drink. When he sets it down, it’s empty. Standing, the chair screeches against the polished tile as he stands. “I’ll give you privacy. There’s a wax seal in that same drawer. Once you’re done, seal it and leave it on the table. I’ll have my assistant deliver money and supplies to your room. Take it and buy passage away from here.”
Khiran stares. “What guarantee do we have that you won’t open it and give our location to Marcia the moment it benefits you?”
“There are no guarantees, Brother. Only my promise. After what I’ve put you through, that may not be worth much, but you can trust that I want to be deserving of Silas’ love almost as much as I want The First in the ground.”
“Almost?”
Cassius’ grin is wicked and sharp at the edges. “I’d sacrifice my soul if it meant the pleasure of watching him fall.”
He pushes his chair in, walking away. But when he reaches the doorway he pauses, hesitating a moment before turning to look back over his shoulder. Maybe it’s the shallow smile haunting his lips, or the memories darkening his eyes, but Anna is suddenly struck by how lonely a picture he makes. “Actually… one more thing.” He meets Khiran’s eyes across the room, a shared connection mapped out in spider silk. “Her name wasn’t Psyche,” he says. “It was Selene.”
A moment of silence, a few heartbeats, before Khiran asks, “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because she mattered,” Cassius says, and in it Anna can hear lifetimes of grief. Crystalline eyes catch hers, the implication of his words like a knife in her chest. “Because she’s gone.”
And then he leaves—walking away before Anna can fully process what has happened. The pen still sits in her hand, its tip poised over the empty page.
Khiran leans heavily into his seat, staring at where Cassius left. “You were right,” he breathes. “About staying. About trusting him.”
Anna doesn’t need to ask what changed his mind. She’s certain she wasn’t the only one to see the regrets and warnings dancing around a ghost of a name; not the only one to draw the parallels between the circumstances of the love they share now to a love that lived and died before Anna ever drew breath.
She writes her message, hopes her gratitude is felt in the flow of ink, and silently passes it to Khiran so he can add their destination before sealing it.
CHAPTER NINE
It is harder than he expects, living without his magic. The instinct is there, stitched into the fibers of his soul with thread strengthened by time. There are moments where he finds himself blindly reaching for it, flinching away just before he can grasp it. Fear is a tangible thing. He coils it around his wrists, binds his hands with it. He will gladly live in shackles, if it means she remains free to fly.
KARACHI, PAKISTAN
SUMMER1958
They waste no time.
Once the letter is sealed, purple wax bright against crisp folded paper, they gather their supplies and leave without looking back. Cassius doesn’t see them off, but Anna’s not surprised. There was a finality to the words he left them with in the dining room. The kind that makes her suspect that goodbyes were an art he neverbothered to learn. She wonders if that’s because he’s said far too few of them over the centuries or because the ones he’s been forced into still carry scars.
Their bags are heavy with clothes and food as they purchase boat tickets to take them to the Port of Karachi. Khiran has already warned her that they won’t stay there. Cities may offer a level of camouflage, but they’re easier to travel. He has no doubt, Marcia will jump from city to city searching for a trace of them to hunt.
Seagulls squawk overhead as the small passenger ship pulls away from port. A group of young men throw day old simit high into the air and watch the birds swoop and dive for the bits of bread, their yellow beaks snatching it up before it hits the water.
There’s salt on the wind, tangling in her hair. Anna unties the scarf at her neck to wrap it over her head, the knot sitting under her chin. The breeze nips at the exposed collar, but it’s better than combing through matted hair.
A glance proves that Khiran is facing a far more troubling battle.
His knuckles are bone white with how tightly he grips the rail, his skin sallow and jaw tight with stubborn determination. He looks a breath away from heaving his meager breakfast into the churning waters below.
