Page 64 of These Godly Lies
Her face is sallow—pale like paper instead of the radiance that reminded Anna of a full moon in a dark sky. There are no bruises marring the fragile skin under her eyes, but with the grief that burdens her dark gaze, Anna is certain there would be if Kaia were anything less than divine.
Khiran stands from the low table, taking her arm and helping her take a seat beside him. Kaia doesn’t need the help, but she covers one of Khiran’s hands with her own, thankful for the comfort that comes with his touch. She looks at the meal lining the table, curiosity breaking through the dark waters of her sorrow. “What’s this?”
Anna ladles soup into a bowl, offering it to their host. She doesn’t know if Kaia has been eating, or if she even feels hunger the way she and Khiran do, but she knows there can be magic in a meal. A comfort. “Clam chowder.”
Gingerly, Kaia accepts the bowl with a weak smile. “Thank you. I assume you cooked?”
“It was a joint effort.”
“Ah.” Her eyes flit to Khiran, a bit of warmth returning to her expression. “He must adore you as much as he claims if you wereable to get him to step foot in a kitchen. I’ve been trying for centuries.”
Khiran scoffs, but there’s a gentleness to the sound. More sweet than bitter. “Don’t give me so much credit. I only helped gather the clams and shelled the meat.”
“It’s more than you would have done,” Kaia says, her expression clouding. “You’ve changed.”
Khiran’s smile goes soft. Gentle in ways that carry the power to hurt and heal. “Everything changes.”
“Yes,” she murmurs, eyes searching his face as if she can find all the ways he’s grown written there. “The world does that, doesn’t it? And yet, this feels like more. Tell me, how long have you been running, Khiran?”
He pauses, indecision pulling at his brow. Kaia sees it for what it is. “Don’t try to spare my feelings. I may never again be whole, but I am notbroken.” She softens, like wax brought too close to a flame, as she folds her hand over his. “You are the last thing I have of her. Tell me your struggles, so that I may do what I can to ease them. Allow me to find a glimpse of happiness in your own.”
Khiran cringes. “Six years.”
Kaia nods, her fingers playing with the handle of her spoon. “When did Eira—” her voice breaks. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she tries again. “When did it happen?” Khiran’s silence is deafening, guilt lining the omission. Kaia wilts. “I see.”
He swallows, hands fisting under the table. “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head, the carved shells in her ears catching the light. “I don’t agree with what you did, but I understand it. If the roles were reversed—if I was the one forced to tellyou…well, I would have wanted to run, too.”
Gingerly, she picks up her spoon and stirs the contents of her bowl. “Now, let’s try this meal you contributed to.” She brings a spoonful to her lips, chewing thoughtfully. A smile lines her eyes as she sends Anna a knowing look. “I see you kept him away from the spices.”
Anna sees the change of subject for what it is: the opening of a path they can travel together without the weight of having to lookback. Kaia’s own way of running. “He’s ruined a few too many meals that way.”
There’s a relief in Kaia’s eyes, warm with gratitude. For the rest of the meal, they talk about everything but the past, sidestepping its existence despite its presence hovering at the edges of their conversations. When Kaia asks what they plan to do next, it hangs over them like a shadow hungry for its next meal.
There’s a question in Khiran’s eyes when he looks at her, one that echoes her own. They could stay here, in Kaia’s labyrinth of caves. So long as Khiran doesn’t use his magic, doesn’t open up a path for Marcia to follow, there is probably no safer place. Anna thinks of a cave made of dreams and starlight—thinks of the way he promised the wonders of the world while washing colored powder off her skin. She holds his gaze when she asks him, “What would you show me first?”
He stares at her from across the table, eyes full of so much emotion she’s drowning in them. Something has shifted in him since leaving the mountains of the Himalayas. He told Cassius he would be content to run—to live as a mortal for the sake of gaining as much time with her as possible—but it’s not enough.
It’s not enough to breathe and eat and sleep.
It’s not enough to be alive.
Not for him. Not anymore.
I want to show you every corner this world has to offer and watch your face light up in wonder.
Slowly, his lips curl into a smile.
A week later they’re swimming in the warm waters of Cenderawasih Bay in Indonesia, snorkels in their mouths and goggles strapped to their faces. They float on the surface, their fingers tangled and the sun on their backs with another world teaming with life beneath them. Reefs stretch out before them, apatchwork of movement and color Anna never knew existed beneath the waves.
They drift farther, the water growing deeper. Shadows of shipwrecks rise up from the depths, memorials of a world war that feels more recent than the rusted metal hulls look.
Her ears full of water, she hears them before she sees them. A creaking echo that pierces the depths, punctuated by guttural clicking that sounds almost like a growl. It’s a song more ancient than anything she’s ever known, and as her vision fills with gray and white spotted skin she’s never felt so small.
Khiran squeezes her hand—an unspoken promise that there’s nothing for her to fear—but Anna isn’t afraid. The whale shark is a goliath, but it moves through the water with a grace that feels more gentle than predatory. She stares, heartbeat in her throat as it swims so close she’s able to reach out and brush her fingertips against sandpaper skin.
She doesn’t surface until the ocean swallows its silhouette, pulling her mask and snorkel from her face. Khiran mirrors the action, his smile wide as his eyes memorize her expression.
