Chapter Fourteen #3
Once, Anna would have only seen the romance in such a statement. But for all the love he holds for her, the adoration lining his voice like velvet, there are flames haunting his eyes like ghosts. His heart. His weakness. Burn her to ashes and he will float away with her.
Subtly, she laces their fingers and hopes he catches the echo in her eyes. In her smile. He is her heart, just as much as she is his.
Anna lets her eyes drift back to Kaia, momentarily alarmed to find tears dripping from her chin.
“Oh,” she sniffs, hands clutched to her chest. “Your love for each other is so…so beautiful.” Another sniff and the tears come faster, her face crumpling. “I am so happy.”
Khiran sighs, but there is a fondness in it. He releases Anna’s hand to ease the clasped ones away from Kaia’s chest. “Thank you, truly, but I’m afraid I’m not here for the sake of visiting.”
She blinks up at him, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder. “What—”
“Once,” he starts, bracing himself with a breath before starting again. “Once, you offered me a favor. I’m afraid I’ve found myself in need of it.”
Kaia stares at him, the softness of her expression hardening. She wipes the stubborn tears clinging to her cheeks with the palm of her hand. “I see. I will start the fires. You know how I feel about bad news on an empty stomach.”
“I do,” he assures her. “Is everything where it was when I last visited?”
She nods. “It is. Please, make yourselves comfortable.” Her gaze shifts to Anna, eyeing the way she’s drowning in what is obviously Khiran’s coat. “There’s some warmer clothing in the wardrobe you’re more than welcome to. I’m afraid the rooms stay rather cold.”
Anna tips her chin in gratitude. “Thank you.”
Kaia offers her a warm smile before heading down one of the long corridors.
Anna assumes it must be the kitchen. Once she’s out of sight, Anna leans into Khiran’s side, her voice soft.
“Is she alright? She seemed—” Anna’s not sure how to describe the swing of emotions without it sounding negative instead of concerned.
Khiran huffs on a laugh, his fingers pulling the collar of his coat more securely around her neck. “Kaia feels things a little more deeply around this time.” When he catches Anna’s questioning look, he makes a vague gesture to the ceiling. “Full moon.”
“Oh,” she murmurs, eyes lingering on the hallway. She thinks of how the phase of the moon affects the tides, the relationship between the two as old as the oceans themselves. “Is it like that with all emotions or…?”
“I have yet to make her angry and I don’t plan on testing it anytime soon,” he answers, a wry smile curling the corners of his mouth.
Anna’s teeth worry her bottom lip. Khiran had requested a favor, but never made any mention of the bad news he carries with him. “Will you tell her?”
Khiran’s hands still, a soft intake of breath passing his lips. He swallows, eyes closing. Pained. “Not yet.”
She wants to ask when, but she holds back. There have been so many times she’s had to break the news that a loved one was lost. It was never easy, even when they were nothing more than strangers. She knows it will hurt Khiran to tell the news just as much as it will hurt Kaia to hear it.
He must see something in her expression, because he glances up at the ceiling as if looking through the stone and ice and to the sky itself. “The moon… it would be cruel to tell her now.”
Anna can’t help but feel that there’s a cruelty in waiting, too.
Anna is a little relieved to see that Kaia’s meals are more in line with what she’s used to.
Less long tables lined with velvet cushioned chairs and more home cooked meals served around a low table on the floor.
Anna tucks her feet beneath her wool skirts, the fur trim brushing her ankles and tickling her collar.
The creamy fish soup Kaia shares with them smells as rich as it tastes.
Anna lets it sit on her tongue, savoring the flaky texture of the fish and the way it warms her from the inside out.
“This is delicious,” she compliments. “Thank you.”
Kaia beams. “It was always one of Khiran’s favorites when he came to visit. I’m pleased that you enjoy it as well.”
Khiran hums in agreement around his spoon, eyes closed as he savors. “No one makes it quite like you do.”
Kaia smiles, her cheeks flushed with her joy. “So you’ve told me every time I’ve served it.”
“It has always been true.”
Kaia chuckles, her laugh deep and melodic.
If Anna listens closely, she can hear the echo of it ringing off the stone walls.
“Your home is impressive,” Anna says, eyes tracing the gentle slope of the ceiling.
It should be rough and decorated in jagged edges, but it’s perfectly smooth.
She can’t even see any tool marks. “Khiran said you built it?”
“Ah, he gives me a little too much credit. The caves were here before, I merely made them my own.” She shrugs, following Anna’s gaze with a fondness.
“Water has a strength most take for granted. They forget that it is water that cut fjords and carved canyons. They forget how easy it is for bodies to freeze and for lungs to drown.”
Anna understands what she means but she can’t relate. Not when the feeling of walking beneath the shadow of the ocean still makes her skin prick. She would face the fire before she’d dream of taking on the ocean and its depths.
Khiran’s eyes are searching as he looks at her—as if following her train of thoughts. “Most would be quick to change their mind after a stroll on the ocean floor.”
Kaia’s brow furrows. Then, understanding, her lips pull into an apologetic smile as she turns to Anna.
“I’m sorry. I forget sometimes how scary it can be to travel here when you’re so used to land beneath your feet and sky above your head.
Khiran once struggled with the trip, as well.
He’s always been more involved in the world above—has always had a hand in shaping the myths humans surround us in.
Eira and I have always done things more quietly and from within the comforts of the places we call home. ”
The table goes quiet. Anna can feel the weight of it on her chest, the words unsaid so heavy they’re suffocating. She looks to Khiran, gauging his expression.
Slowly, he sets his spoon down, his hands moving to his lap. Anna can see the way they clench beneath the table. She reaches for him, folds her hand over his own.
Kaia looks between them, a frown forming between her brows. “I apologize, did I say something—”
“No,” Khiran interrupts, wincing. His throat moves as he swallows. “Nothing like that. It’s only—there’s something I need to tell you, but I know it will hurt. And with the moon—I thought if I waited perhaps you wouldn’t feel it so sharply.”
She sits back, her dark eyes searching. “Pain is pain, whether I feel it now or later. You know that.” She folds her hands over her lap, chin tipped proudly. “Tell me.”
“She’s gone,” Khiran murmurs, as if saying the words softly could ease the blow. For the first time since Kaia said her name, he looks up and meets her stare. “Eira is gone.”
For a moment, Kaia only stares. The corners of her mouth twist into a gruesome smile as she shakes her head. “Gone?” she echoes. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know she—”
“Malik burned the meadow, Kaia. The house, Eira, they’re both gone. They killed her.”
Her smile wanes, the playful light in her eyes turning dark and cold. Kaia stands, backing away from the table but never dropping Khiran’s gaze. “No.” Her voice is deceptively calm; the warning groan ice gives seconds before it cracks.
Khiran flinches, his own pain twisting his expression into one of regret. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” she repeats. There’s an unsteadiness in the way she stands, a sway, as if she’s caught in a current of her own making. A whirlpool of every regret. She repeats the word, again and again, the volume and the despair mounting with every cry until it is a scream.
Around them, the ocean freezes—ice branching out like lightning and expanding in the cracks and crevices of the earth.
Above them, the land shakes and the ocean swells.
For four minutes and thirty-eight seconds, Alaska is reshaped by fissures and landslides in what will become known as the most powerful earthquake recorded in North America.
Only three souls will ever know it was heartbreak that made the earth split.