Chapter Eight
He has every reason to distrust him—has carried the burden of his betrayal longer than Anna has drawn breath.
He had come, prepared to sacrifice his pride and consider the possibility of forgiveness.
Such generous intentions shattered when the fool pressed his lips to hers and tried to lure her into a war that isn’t hers to fight.
ISTANBUL, TURKEY
“You shouldn’t have agreed to stay.”
They’re in the private rooms Cassius has lent them, surrounded by delicate silks and plush velvets—brass and marble. Their host seems to have more opulent tastes. Comparatively, it makes the treasures Khiran has collected over the years look more sentimental than lavish.
Anna shrugs off her jacket, feeling oddly out of place as she hangs it on the gleaming scrollwork that makes up the coat rack. She’s missing her wooden pegs and the painted leaves that weaved between them. “Where else would we have gone, Khiran?”
“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’t possibly be asking me that. Anna, victory could be written in the stars, and it still wouldn’t be enough to convince me to risk you.”
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 watches the 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 was run. 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 it meant 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 her goblet despite it still being half full.
“Was it love at first sight? It must have been, surely?”
Anna blinks, uncomfortable. A quick glance proves Khiran intends to offer no help in answering. He’s too busy taking a long drink. “No… I—we weren’t…” She flushes, heat prickling her cheeks. Picking up her glass, she takes a quick drink to hide her embarrassment. “It took a while.”
“Oh? He courted you as a human, then?” He tips his drink in the other man’s direction in a casual sign of respect. “Bold choice, Brother. You know how fragile they are. Smart, though, taking your time before committing to eternity. Very thorough of you.”
Khiran refills his glass, pretending not to notice Anna’s pleading looks and ignoring Cassius altogether. “He was a stranger, actually,” she says, irritation smothering whatever embarrassment she felt. “I’d never seen him before.”
“Really?”
“I saved his life. It was all very heroic.”
“She thought she was saving me,” Khiran amends. Strange how the conversation suddenly interested him enough to contribute to it. “Obviously, I was fine.”
“He made a very convincing damsel in distress.”
“I think love at first sight was an easier explanation to believe,” Cassius murmurs. There’s a frown pulling at the smooth line of his brow. “You truly gave the power of a god to a stranger?”
Khiran looks at her, gaze softening. “She was worthy of it. More so than any of us. She still is.”
A soft laugh, more whisper than sound, escapes him. “My, perhaps you’re a romantic after all, Brother.”
To Cassius’ obvious delight, Khiran only responds with another swift glare.
“What about you and Silas? He never told me,” Anna asks. In truth, she’s a little hurt that he didn’t. She would have thought that having their secret entrusted to him would encourage trust in return.
“Ah,” Cassius murmurs, setting his drink down. “You mustn’t blame him. We made a promise to each other, Silas and I.” He hesitates, as if weighing how much of himself he wishes to show. “Having the rest of our twisted family knowing… well, let’s just say it hasn’t worked well in the past.”
Khiran’s gaze snaps up, interest piqued. “Psyche?” Cassius doesn’t answer, not with words, but the way he flinches is telling. “I thought it was just a story.”
Anna’s gasp is small and silent, a breath of recognition. Psyche, the mortal woman who married a god she was never supposed to see. Who had to earn her husband back, prove her love for him, through trials after she gave into the temptation of gazing upon his face.
Cupid. She was married to Cupid.
She tries to remember the details of how the story ended, but all she can recall is that it was happy in ways few myths are. Psyche was given immortality as a reward for her loyalty, so she could remain at Cupid’s side for all of eternity.
“Everything is a story, you know that. Just as you know they’re usually more fiction than fact,” Cassius says, watching his wine swirl in his cup. “You were right to hide her, Brother. Right to give her immortality without asking for it. The First does not care for any love he cannot claim.”