Pits & Poison: These Godly Lies (The Peaches and Honey Duology Book 2) by R. Raeta

Author:R. Raeta [Raeta, R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atera Books
Published: 2024-06-06T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Nothing could have prepared him for the emptiness. He searches for a trace of her, reaching out in the hollow of his chest, desperate to feel the echo of her soul respond. He’s met with only the heavy, lonely beating of his own heart.

Indian Railways, India

February 1964

The train car is occupied.

A horse paws at the ground, ears pinned to its skull and snorting at the scent of blood. Its salt and pepper coat shines in the low light from the open slots as it pivots anxiously, tail high. It’s only the lead rope tied to the opposite end of the car that prevents it from moving any closer.

Carefully, Anna guides Khiran onto a stretch of straw far enough away from the hooves beating against the wooden subfloor and coaxes his hands away from his wound. The blade had nestled itself neatly between his ribs. Heart in her throat, she tears his kurta open, sees the bubbles in his blood, and her fears are confirmed.

His lung. It’s pierced his lung.

“Khiran?” His name escapes her like a question. A prayer for guidance and assurances.

There’s so much red.

The same color as any of the thousands of patients she has treated over the centuries. Anna knows that wound, without the extensive treatment only a hospital can provide, would be a death sentence to anyone else. She puts her hands over his own, adding more pressure. Sweat beads down her neck, rolling down her collar. She can taste the salt of it on her lips. “Khiran, I don’t—”

“It will heal,” he assures her, but he sounds winded. Out of breath. When he coughs, the sound of it rattles in the cage of his chest. “Slowly, but it will heal the same as everything else. Don’t worry, I’ve suffered worse.”

She wants to believe him. Wants his reassurances to be spun more of truth than thinly veiled comfort. She looks down at her hands, at the blood—his blood—smearing over her skin. Darkening the etchings on her ring.

Her ring.

Blood and bone.

His blood. His bone. His magic.

The horror she feels is as sharp as the blade in her pocket. “Khiran…”

“I’ll heal,” he repeats, quickly. It’s meant to reassure her, but all Anna can hear is the wheeze in his breathing. His head lulls to the side, eyeing the blood coating her fingers with a level of detachment that scares her.

“I know what she’s tracking.” She swallows, closing her eyes. “You told me it was born of you and you alone. Your magic.” She looks at him, watches the understanding reach his eyes and the horror part his lips. “It’s the ring, Khiran. That’s how she’s tracking us.”

He swallows, breath coming faster. Anna can’t tell if it’s because of the panic rimming his gaze or because his undamaged lung is now doing the work of two. “I—” A cough cuts him off, wet and bloody. He cringes, red coating his lips and staining his teeth. “When I regain my strength. I’ll find a way to remove it.”

Find a way. Find a way because he can’t.

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