Page 53 of These Godly Lies
The frown he wears is immediate. “You sound like Cassius. Don’t let his optimism blind you to the reality of our situation.”
Anna shrugs. “Hope costs nothing.”
“Nothingnow,” he grumbles. “It can cost you everything, if you aren’t careful where you place it.”
“I placed my hopes in your hands.” She turns her face away from the stars to look at him, her smile soft and teasing. “I think it’s gone pretty well, so far. Don’t you?”
Khiran is clearly not amused, but the irritated glare he answers with only makes her smile grow wider. She stands, dusting off her sari before holding a hand out to him in peace offering. “Dance with me.”
There’s a thread of laughter in his sigh, amusement in the way he shakes his head, but he takes her hand readily.
The warm light of the bonfire flickers over his face. His eyes are dark, but sometimes they catch the reflection of the flames just right and she spies a hint of blue. She thinks of the night they danced to Ray Charles in their living room—of how far away that life feels. She won’t admit it out loud, but she understands Khiran’s hesitance. A tiny part of her had hoped the peace they found at the monastery would last. It wasn’t the home she left behind, but it was home enough so long as he remained beside her. She won’t tell him that it hurt her to leave it. Won’t admit that, in the end, it was that shard of hope that cut the deepest.
She’d rather hold those painful truths close to her heart if it means sparing his.
Morning brings laughter.
It filters into their room from the streets, the sound stirring herfrom sleep. She looks over to Khiran, but his eyes are closed and his breathing remains deep and even. Carefully, she untangles herself from the sheets and manages to leave the bed without waking him. She pulls the robe over her body and shifts the curtain aside to look out onto the street.
There is music and color everywhere—plumes of pink, blue, and green rising up over the street like a fog. Laughter spills between the notes, cutting through the powdered air, like an instrument all its own. Anna watches, fascinated, as a girl smears a handful of vibrant green powder over an elderly woman’s graying hair. She suspects they must be related, a grandmother perhaps, because the older woman only laughs before returning the favor. They, like everyone else, are covered head to toe in a kaleidoscope of color. The whites of their eyes, their smiles, the only part of them that escaped.
She feels Khiran at her back, the warmth of him the only warning before his arms wrap around her waist. His chin rests on her shoulder, his eyes taking in the scene with her. “The day changes every year,” he murmurs, his voice still stained with sleep. “Lucky that we were able to be here during the celebrations.”
“What is this?” Her voice is breathy with her awe.
“Holi,” he answers, kissing her temple. “Would you like to join the celebration?”
She’s certain he already knows her answer. Still, she hesitates, turning in his arms and pulling his robe aside. Her fingers trace over his ribs, gently investigating. She tries not to let herself dwell on how gruesome the scarred nub of her finger looks in comparison to the smooth stretch of skin of his torso. The evidence of his wound is gone, but she knows better than to trust it. The streets are crowded with people. She won’t let him suffer for her curiosity. “How are you feeling?”
He covers her hand with his own, bringing her palm to his lips in a fleeting kiss. “Slight pinching,” he admits. Anna appreciates the honesty. “Nothing unbearable and certainly nothing worth you fussing over.”
She looks over her shoulder, teeth sinking into her lower lip. “It’s daylight.”
“It is.”
Rubbing her arm with her free hand, over the pale patches of skin she knows will be entirely too visible. She looks up at him through her eyelashes, her smile timid. “You’re certain I won’t cause a scene?”
Khiran’s eyes soften, his palm cupping her cheek. “I’m certain the opinions of strangers weigh less than the joy you would be robbing yourself of if you let yourself fear them.”
She holds his gaze, a stubborn smile pulling at her lips. “That seems like a very roundabout way of saying no.”
“An answer so simple would have felt disingenuous.” He kisses her softly, his words a murmur against her lips. “I promised you honesty, Anna. It’s not a vow I’ve taken lightly.”
Sighing, she lets her forehead touch his. “You’re right—I know you’re right. It’s just…” she trails off, the words escaping her.
As always, he’s there to save her. “Forever is a double edged sword. It allows us all the time we need to change. In the same breath, it allows the opportunity for our fears to be justified again, and again, and again.” He shakes his head, empathy curling, soft and warm, in his gaze. “I do not fault you for fearing the kind of treatment the world has already proven itself capable of. I only suggest that you are above their insipid opinions.”
Laughter sharpens her exhale and she leans back to look at him fully. “You always know what to say.”
“Only because I know your heart as well as my own,” he murmurs, a promise and a prayer. “I see your scars. I know where you hurt.” His eyes drop to her right hand, thumb stroking her knuckles and pausing over her scarred flesh. He swallows, shakes his head, before lifting his gaze. There’s a determination in the firm set of his jaw. “I don’t need magic to see you.”
Anna’s breath leaves her, chest aching. She knows the words are as much for himself as they are for her. A reminder that the bond they share is one that goes beyond magic peaches and rings of blood and bone.
There is so much powder in the air, it’s as if a fog of color has settled over the narrow streets. Khiran steers her through the chaos, keeping them off to the side and towards a stall. A few people watch them, as if considering whether they’re out to celebrate or simply go about their business. Anna suspects they wouldn’t have hesitated if they weren’t clearly foreigners.
Khiran reaches into his pocket, fishing for some rupees their host provided along with their other necessities as he trades words with the vendor. The older gentleman’s face is lined with days spent under the sun, evidence of a life of laughter lining his eyes. When he sees her hovering at Khiran’s elbow, the friendliness of his smile dims. Anna can feel his gaze dropping to the exposed skin of her arms.
Anna stills, fighting the urge to flinch away.
