Page 11 of The Garnet Daughter (The Viridian Priestess #3)

Chapter

Ten

A ugust works at the kitchen table all evening on a drawing to show the elders how to raise the tower and how many people we need, hoping if they have a number, they will be more likely to allow it.

I suggest multiple times we should go try the signal again, but August is worried about frying something inside.

My skin itches to fold the distance around the forest until I find the hunting party to ask the elders before they come back.

To corner them in the dense woods and plead my case, August’s crude drawing in hand.

It takes the hunting party hours to return. I can hear them from where I anxiously sit on my porch before I see their torches. The communal fire is now roaring and sending sparks high into the dusky sky.

“I hope there’s wine.” August steps out of the doorway, folding the plans and placing them in his back pocket.

“There will be.” I say and track a couple already swaying and laughing heads toward the celebration.

August is wearing another Frithian tunic Ruth brought for him. It’s dark like the Viathan clothes he came in but enough to blend in and stop some from being reminded he does not belong here.

“How do you want to play this?” he asks.

“They are cheering, which means it was a successful hunt and they are likely in lifted spirits. Now is the time to ask tough questions, not tomorrow when their guts are sour from drink. Once the music and dancing starts, it will be an easy distraction to get close to the elders.”

We wait until darkness takes over the celebration, the torches lighting the pathway we need to travel. Meat-scented smoke wafts in our direction and makes my stomach growl.

We walk under the long row of arches decorated with flowers and grass until we reach the center of the village.

August has dined in the circle before, when he was merely a Viathan representative.

Things were so different for us then. We did not know each other like we do now, both fascinated by our differences.

A large boar roasts over the fires where the food is prepared.

I guide us in that direction, weaving through the cheerful people.

Some smile and touch my shoulder as they pass, and others stare without a word.

When I look back at August, he already has a drink and sips from it while he watches the celebration with wide eyes.

“Thank you.” I take a plate extended to me as we approach the food, piled high with the day’s kill and the bounty collected from the forest.

We sit on a large tree stump and share the meal, doing our best to blend in.

“This is different from last time,” August says so close to my ear, it tickles. The drums mixed with the constant stream of laughter and voices makes it almost impossible to talk.

I nod and lean in tightly to reply. “The elders are sitting in the same spot as always.”

I watch as the women I have known my whole life dance around the fire, mothers and sisters I have celebrated with before.

Had I not left this world, Selene and I would be with them now, their movements synchronized and graceful.

They start alone, and then their partners join, circling the bonfire and smiling as if they have no worries.

Ruth dances with her husband, his awkwardly tall build mimicking her steps as she laughs.

“You alright?” August whispers.

“I’m fine,” I reply and am instantly distracted by the flames reflecting in his eyes.

But then a small form, Ruth’s young daughter Aster, sprinting toward us, pulls my attention. “Calliape!” she shouts as she throws her arms around my neck.

“Mama said not to bother you when you are with the Viathan,” she confesses.

“Oh, that’s alright. You have grown so tall,” I say and mean it. She sprouted like the vines that grow at the very top of the mountain.

“Can I paint you?” she asks and is already reaching into her satchel.

“Um. Yes, that would be ok.” I glance over at August, who watches me closely.

She giggles and lifts my chin, using a stick of white pastel to paint the same markings on my cheek as she and some others have. I was older than her at the last conjunction celebration, but I remember painting my arms and face with flowers and moons and crying when they washed off the next day.

“Aster!” Ruth calls as she joins our little group on the tree stump. Her eyes light up with a laugh as she approaches. “I’m so happy you both decided to join us.”

We stand to greet her and lean closer to hear over the music.

“We followed the smell,” August says as she hugs him, his face a bit surprised at her affection.

“Will you fully join us, Calliape?” she implores, holding my hands.

“No.” I smile, the paint already dry and tight on my skin.

“Oh, come. August, I’m sure, would love to celebrate with us.”

“He doesn’t dance.” I come up with a weak excuse, not knowing if it is true or not.

But like the fool he is, August steps forward, beaming at me. “I will dance with you, Callia.”

I shake my head, which only encourages him.

Ruth pulls at my arm, enticing me to join her and her waiting husband Kieran as another song begins. Her hand finally slips out only for August’s to slide to my lower back, ushering me along.

“Seems you’re not getting out of this one,” he whispers from behind me, sending bumps across my skin even with the heat of the fire increasing as we get closer.

“Seems not.” I turn to him when we approach the group already dancing. He has no idea what he is doing but he looks just as happy as the others, his charming dimple on full display as I line myself up with him.

“You lead.” He grins.

I hold out an expectant palm. “Step opposite of me. This one’s easy.”

He intertwines his calloused fingers with mine, and as I push forward lightly, he follows the circle my steps make.

I narrate our moves aloud, to switch directions then hands, and he does so all while staring at me like my instructions are his lifeline.

To my surprise, he dances effortlessly, and somehow his grin grows even broader.

“Both hands now.” I reach for his other palm and fumble a little as I bring both closer then up in the air, over our heads.

“You said this was easy.” He laughs.

I press my lips together to hide my smile and turn my face to the side now that we are closer, the dance naturally pulling our bodies together to perform the steps correctly. His chest is against mine, pressing into me snuggly, his slow and strong breaths on my cheek.

We have embraced dozens of times in the past, held each other close as we folded, but it always served a purpose or was a quick, comforting gesture with an end in sight. Never quite like this.

The sudden thought distracts me from announcing the next step, but as if anticipating my body’s automatic sway, August does the same, matching my movements and pulling in closer somehow.

Our breath mingles in tandem, wordlessly carrying out the rhythm.

For some reason, the music seems softer now, the people around us farther away or perhaps gone entirely.

Then his hand steals to my lower back, drawing my hips forward.

A gasp escapes me as he leads our next spin.

“August.” I shake myself from whatever daze the bonfire and music is putting me in. “We should try to get closer. The elders are on the other side of the fire.”

I bring our hands down, glancing over to their resting spot, but when I turn back to August, his gaze is only fixed on me.

A look I haven’t seen in some time covers his face, but now his eyes are more hooded, more searching.

The intensity almost suddenly radiating from him causes me to stumble over my own feet on the next turn.

But as if he were born Frithian, dancing around the bonfire at every occasion since birth, he takes hold of me, scooping me up in another turn and holding me against him.

Every bit of our purpose for being at this celebration and any protesting words die in my throat when his gaze flicks to my mouth momentarily.

But before I can process the moment, the portion of the dance where we switch partners forces us apart. Now I’m face-to-face with Kieran, who smiles and greets me cordially, taking my hand and leading us through the rest of the dance.

August and Ruth are partners. They stand farther apart than we did, his movements are not as smooth, and she laughs wildly as they circle each other. His eyes meet mine with every twirl and spin, locking onto me before turning his attention back to his dance partner.

A small tug pulls at the sleeve of my dress, and I turn to find little Aster looking up at her father with an expectant pout. I reach for her hand and put it in his so she can take my place. He chuckles at the sudden switch and swoops her up in his arms.

“Have fun.” I touch her cheek while she beams during the next spin.

It’s the perfect opportunity to sneak away to the sidelines, where others sway and mingle.

The elders are blocked by a large group who laugh loudly into their drinks, ignoring me.

I weave through them and arch around the large communal fire to avoid notice as another song begins, calling in more to join a different beloved dance.

“Calliape.” A tall form steps in front of my path as I approach my destination, blocking me.

Rouke appears displeased as usual. He squares his shoulders to me as if I am an outsider, unwelcome in the village we both grew up in together.

“Move aside, Rouke. I need to speak with the elders.” I hoped to avoid him during our stay here. Aside from a few glares in my and August’s direction from across the village, I did not think he would engage, too busy during the fruitful hunting season.

“The elders do not wish to speak with you.”

“You are not their keepers, nor are you in any position to turn me away from my own elders.”

He laughs. “This is a night of celebration, not whatever problems you bring.”

“Step aside, I don’t have time for this.”