Chapter Seven #3
Cassius tips his head in Khiran’s direction without breaking eye contact. “Do you know what we call your lover? The Liesmith. He’s been here less than five minutes and he’s already proving worthy of his title. Why should you be different?”
Beside her, Khiran bristles. Anna’s stare hardens. “He’s trying to protect me,” she counters. “Honesty is an easy sacrifice when you’re afraid.”
Cassius studies her. “But you’re not afraid, are you? Why is that?”
She shrugs. “Silas trusts you. I trust Silas. Even if we weren’t friends, he would never lead me to harm. It isn’t who he is.”
“How… simple.”
Anna thinks of the evening Khiran came back to her, a peach in his hand and an apology in his gaze. She glances at him, relieved to find him more resigned than angry. She offers him a small smile. “The truth usually is.”
“Adorable.” The word falls flat. “In a na?ve, mortal sort of way.” Cassius looks between them, no less wary. “Very well, then.” He holds out a hand between them. “It is an honor to meet you, Just Anna, Friend of Silas.”
Anna puts her hand in his, his palm warm against her own. Something in his crystalline eyes—a spark of mischief—is her only warning before his grip tightens and he pulls. She stumbles toward him, Khiran’s snarl echoing in her ears as Cassius’ mouth covers her gasp.
It’s a fleeting touch, too unexpected to even fully register it. She jerks away, relieved to find his hold on her loose enough to escape.
Khiran’s hands are already at his throat, his knuckles white against the dark silk of the other man’s shirt and his fury electric. “Undo it,” he growls. “Undo it now or I promise you, death will not come swiftly enough.”
Cassius doesn’t seem at all intimidated—he’s too busy staring at her. “There’s nothing to undo,” he murmurs, his brow lined with shock. “What have you done?”
Heat blossoms in her chest, vivid and sweltering, the lingering shock melting away like a candle in a blaze.
Anna has no idea what he was trying to accomplish—she’s not sure it matters.
Not when he tried to use her to do it. She stalks toward them, spine straight as she pushes Khiran aside.
She thinks she hears her name on his lips as his grip loosens from the other man’s shirt.
It sounds like a question. Anna can’t be sure, not when the blood is rushing in her ears.
Her palm stings with bitter satisfaction as it connects with Cassius’ cheek.
There are so many emotions clamoring in her chest, tangled in knots on her tongue. She spits out the one that rings loudest; the one too tough to swallow. “Silas calls you a friend,” she fumes. “He would be ashamed.”
Cassius sucks in a breath, so soft she almost misses it. The way he stares down at her, shock twisting into something she can’t recognize. Maybe it’s guilt. She hopes it is.
The pain in her palm is already gone. She almost wishes it wasn’t. It would help distract her from the disappointment, the worry, that’s creeping in and slowly suffocating her fury.
Khiran’s hands cradle her jaw, turning her to face him and searching her answering stare for something she doesn’t recognize.
When Anna reaches for his wrists, a gentle hold, the sigh he breathes is full of relief.
His lips kiss her forehead, more firm than tender.
Anna can feel the lingering traces of fear in it.
“Come,” he murmurs, fingers threading through her own. “We’ll find somewhere else.”
“No,” Cassius says, cutting in. “Stay.”
The look Khiran shoots him is as sharp as murder. “You tried to influence her.”
“And it didn’t work,” Cassius snaps, hand gesturing to her. “What is she?”
Khiran doesn’t answer. Anna watches the muscles in his jaw strain, but there’s something in the way he looks at her… the starting thread of a question he’s too afraid to unravel.
He doesn’t know.
It dawns on her, then. The level of fury in his voice—the relief when he looked in her eyes and she was still herself. Whatever Cassius had been trying to accomplish, whatever magic he attempted to snare her in, Khiran had fully expected him to succeed.
The Heartsinger. He’s The Heartsinger.
The realization is jarring. His hold on her hand tightens. A warning. Whatever the answer is, it’s for them to figure out and Cassius to wonder.
Only, they don’t take more than two steps before he’s shouting at their backs. “Do you think you’re the only one who opposes him?! The only one who wishes to see him gone?!”
Khiran’s shoulders stiffen, his answer tired. Resigned. “I’m not fighting for a side. I’m fighting to keep her safe.”
“One doesn’t exclude the other! You wish her to be safe? Destroy the threat.”
Khiran laughs.
Anna finds no joy in the sound. It’s dark and twisting, settling like a cold stone in her gut.
Goosebumps prick her skin, a chill tracing up her spine like a caress.
There is something desperate flirting at the edge of his voice.
She’s afraid to wonder how hopeless the suggestion has to be to inspire such a sound.
Cassius glowers. “It’s possible. If we—”
“Stop,” Khiran says. “Just stop. We’re leaving. Feel free to fight your war without us.”
“Silas is more than a friend to me,” he calls out, voice ringing across the empty courtyard between them. “He has been for centuries. You are not the only one hiding to protect the person you love.”
Anna draws a small breath, her steps faltering, because of course he is.
The way Silas’ voice dipped lower when he said his name—the unwavering faith that it was true.
Then she remembers the night they shared conversation over the fire during those years Khiran adamantly refused to share his secrets with her.
How Silas agreed, to her great disappointment, that she was safer not knowing.
She can tell the exact moment when Khiran realizes they aren’t leaving. The tension in his shoulders shifts, disbelief temporarily smoothing the angry crease in his brow. “Anna, no.”
But they must. She can feel it, down to her marrow, that staying is the right choice. The safest choice. It screams in her ears like cicadas in a Louisiana summer and, for a moment, she’s back on that creaking front porch with Silas’ words nagging at her heart.
It’s you. You’re the secret.
A secret Silas kept, even when it meant keeping it from perhaps the one person he cares for most.
“I’m not mortal,” she confesses. Khiran’s jaw flexes, as if he’s biting back a curse or six. Anna’s sure she’ll hear them later. “I haven’t been for over eight centuries.”
A moment, no more than a few seconds, of silence. “He stole a peach for you,” Cassius breathes. His focus shifts, landing on Khiran with new understanding. “No wonder you’re running. The First must be furious.”
Khiran doesn’t meet his gaze. “I’m not convinced he knows.”
The word yet hangs between them, ominous and sharp. A blade still sheathed, but there’s the sense that an executioner’s hand is ready on the hilt.
Cassius nods, expression solemn. “I see. Then I vow to do everything in my power to keep it that way.” He makes a sweeping gesture to the grounds behind him.
“Please, stay. I apologize for my behavior, but please understand the position I’m in as well.
Hard to trust a garden snake when surrounded by vipers. ”
Anna gives Khiran’s hand a squeeze. A message of support and perhaps a hint of an apology. “Thank you. I understand.”
Khiran’s expression twists into something dark. “No, you don’t,” he growls. “He tried to possess you. You would have been hanging on his every word, love-drunk and stupid. If he asked you to jump, the only question that would break through the magic is how high.”
Cassius rubs the back of his neck, cringing. “For the record, I had no intention of doing anything untoward. I simply needed assurances of your honesty.”
“You had no right,” Khiran snaps.
“My lover’s name left her lips. His safety weighs more than my morality. Surely, you can understand that?”
When Khiran remains stubbornly silent, Cassius sighs. “Things aren’t as they were before you left. This past millennia… you can’t take a moment to look at the stars without fear of someone going for your throat.”
Frowning, Khiran scoffs. “It’s always been like that.”
“Maybe between his favorites, but the rest of us? Those that were content living on the outskirts? Brother, something is happening. The Tree—”
“Is dying,” Khiran finishes. “I’ve heard.”
Cassius raises a brow. “And the fruit?”
“What of it?”
“They’re gone. Each one rotting from the inside, slowly.
He’s tried, several times, to increase our numbers over the years.
The magic didn’t take.” He looks to Anna, studies her as if she holds all the secrets he covets.
“Eight-hundred years you said? Strange that you just happen to be the last to receive its gifts. Don’t you think? ”
Anna inhales sharply, the shock of it like ice water. Beside her, Khiran has gone stiff. It’s only the intensity of his stare, the way he searches Cassius’ expression for any sign of falsehoods that convinces her that it’s news to him as well.
“A coincidence. It has to be.” Khiran shakes his head, his hold tightening on her hand. “I stole a peach. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Come now, Brother—”
“Stop calling me that.”
Cassius continues as if never interrupted. “We’re too old to believe in coincidences.”
“I didn’t do anything to the damn tree.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“Then what exactly are you accusing me of?”
“Of stealing a peach. The peach.” Cassius makes a wide, sweeping gesture.
The smile he wears is sharp. Ready for a battle neither of them are prepared to face.
“There’s only one that left The Tree without The First’s blessing.
One. And she just happens to be immune to my gifts?
Don’t you see?! You set it all in motion, whether you realize it or not.
We are going to rip the throne away from him, and she’s going to be the reason we succeed. ”
“You’re still a fool,” Khiran sneers, but it sounds more tired than sharp.
“Funny, because I don’t remember you being such a coward.”
“I could kill you.”
“And I could kiss you,” Cassius counters, “but that would be incredibly rude being that you’re spoken for.” His eyes linger on her, bright with hopes and sharp with vengeance. “I suggest we behave ourselves, at least for dear Anna’s sake.”