Chapter Fifteen #2
The laugh that leaves him is deep and throaty as his hands settle at her hips and pull her closer.
“Would I invite you to swim if it was?” he asks, the question a breath at her ear.
He pulls the coat from her arms and drops it to the rocks at their feet, before his fingers play with the buttons lining the front of her dress.
“Come into the water with me, Anna. Help me remember the beauty of it all.”
She swallows. Wets her lips. The warmth he inspires wars with the nervous fluttering of her stomach as she reaches for the top button.
“I won’t go in all the way,” she warns, but the words sound too breathless to be taken with any seriousness.
Khiran is too distracted undoing the remaining buttons, watching her dress fall from her hips to her feet.
The satin slip clings to her skin, offering enough coverage for her to feel like she’s not entirely exposed.
Despite having these caves entirely to themselves, she still feels a little less vulnerable with it on.
He takes her hands, walking backwards into the water.
Anna follows until the bottom half of her slip sticks wetly to her thighs.
She expects him to stop, or at least slow, but he continues leading her deeper without any hesitation.
It dawns on her, then, that he doesn’t know her panic a few days ago was born from more than the disconcerting feeling of being surrounded by ocean, but the fear of drowning in it.
“I can’t swim, Khiran. I don’t know how. ”
Finally, his steps falter. The playful curve of his lips wavering. “You’ve walked this earth for eight centuries.” There is no cruelty in the words, only bewilderment. Anna sees it for what it is: a reminder of their differences.
She kisses him. Sweet and soft and forgiving.
“It wasn’t on account of not having the time,” she says, brow arching.
“I move through the world differently than you do, remember? Things are far better than it was, but I’d still attract all the wrong kinds of attention if I showed up to a public pool in a swimsuit. ”
His expression softens, eyes and fingers tracing a pale patch at her shoulder before sliding down to her palm and lacing their fingers. He brings her hand to his lips, kissing the inside of her wrist and leading her farther from the shore. “I won’t let you drown.”
The water rises around her, lapping at her skin.
Goosebumps dot her arms, a shiver dancing up her spine when it reaches past her navel.
Still, she holds Khiran’s gaze as she follows him deeper; counts the stars-that-aren’t-stars reflecting there.
It is only once the water kisses her collar that he stops.
His hand slips beneath her hair, cupping her neck, while the other releases her hand to rest on her hip.
Water slides down her nape, his fingers cool and patient.
His lips brush over her face, his words a warm murmur against the ridge of her cheek. “Lean back for me, my love.”
It is unnerving at first—the feeling of weightlessness.
Water fills her ears, dampening the sounds of the world above.
Khiran’s hand settles, a comforting pressure at the small of her back.
His thumb strokes the base of her skull soothingly and Anna relaxes against him.
The cave air feels colder than the water now.
She can feel it trembling against the exposed skin peeking above the surface.
The gentle currents from their movements lap at her sides in a way that almost tickles.
“Take a deep breath and hold it in your lungs.”
She follows his instructions, feeling her body gently rise from his hands until only the gentle assurance of his fingertips remains like an unspoken promise. If she sinks, he will catch her.
“Good girl,” he praises, the words sending a shiver across her skin for reasons that have nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the darkness of his gaze.
“Control your breathing, just like that. If you ever feel overwhelmed or like you’re sinking—if I’m ever too far to help you stay above the water—just turn your face to the stars and take a breath. ”
A laugh, more breath than sound, leaves her. “As if there is a universe where you would not catch me.”
The corner of his mouth curls, a smile so adoring she can feel the warmth of it nestling contentedly beneath her ribs. Nudging against her heart with an almost feline purr of approval. “Best to practice anyway,” he says, eyes dancing. “Are you ready for me to move my hands?”
He’s barely touching her, just a mere graze of fingertips between her shoulder blades. Still, she appreciates him asking. Appreciates that he understands how terrifying new can be to those as old as they are.
She wets her lips out of habit and tastes a drop of water clinging to her upper lip. “I’m ready.”
His touch falls away, leaving her to float on the surface by her power alone.
Patiently, he watches her. Waiting for the slightest sign of distress.
When moments pass and it doesn’t come, he shows her how to cup her hands and kick her feet.
Shows her how to tread water. Soon, she is swimming beside him into deeper waters, her strokes clumsy but effective.
Her pulse speeds up, a shallow drumming, but the blood pumping through her heart isn’t encouraged by fear.
Khiran’s smile dimples, his eyes bright as he swims beside her— never too far to save her.
They lay amongst the rocks, letting their hair dry as they admire the way the lights reflect off the water. Anna breathes her question into the dim, afraid to disturb the peace of the moment. “What are they really?”
Khiran chuckles. “Are you sure you’re ready for the magic to end?”
“I’m not sure there is an explanation that would take away the magic,” she confesses, her smile soft as she admires the would-be-constellations. “It’s just a different magic, is all.”
It’s obvious he disagrees. The bridge of his nose wrinkles, voice deadpan. “They’re worms.”
Anna’s smile only widens, eyes tracing the little flecks of light with new appreciation. “How amazing,” she murmurs. “That something so small can shine so brightly.”
He stares at her, his expression one of hope and agony. “You are brighter than this world deserves. Than I deserve.” He shakes his head, leaning over her and pressing a kiss to her forehead with a reverence that aches. “And yet, we both need you.”
She frowns. “We deserve each other. Need each other,” she reprimands.
“As for the world, it needs you far more than it needs me.” Her heart twinges at the truth of it.
She wonders how many lives have been condemned because she couldn’t let him go.
How many he could have saved if her selfishness hadn’t cost him his freedom.
“You’re wrong,” he whispers. Another kiss, this one placed at the corner of her mouth.
“It needs you desperately. You change people, Anna. Inspire them to be better just by being yourself.” His fingertips brush damp hair away from her temple before traveling down, his palm cupping the line of her jaw.
“Giving you that peach was the single best thing I’ve ever done for this world. ”
Anna’s laugh is breathy and wet, her love for him so heavy she can feel it like a gentle, aching weight on her chest. She folds her hands behind his neck, pulling him closer until their lips brush. “That last part, I think, we can agree on.”
Shadows chase the color from his eyes. “Does it still feel like a gift?”
Anna knows what he’s really asking. Knows his insecurities as well as if they had been inscribed on her own heart.
His question isn’t about the magic she’d bit into or the immortal life she’s lived.
It’s about the decision made in the garden she cultivated in front of the home he gave her.
The one they made together after he cradled her face in his hands and begged her for an answer.
What am I to do, Anna?
It’s about the choice she made when she answered, You stay.
Anna kisses him gently, a balm for the tender scars lining both their hearts.
She waits until she feels the tension melt from his shoulders, feels the long sigh escape his lungs, before pulling away.
She needs him to see her eyes when she tells him.
Needs him to know the truth of it so he’ll never carry the weight of his doubt.
“It will be a gift for as long as you’re with me. ”
Kaia comes out of the shelter of her room two days later.
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 were able 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 not broken.
” 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 tell you… 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 look back. 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, a patchwork 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.
When she kisses him, his lips taste like saltwater and hope.