Page 16 of The Garnet Daughter (The Viridian Priestess #3)

Chapter

Thirteen

I n all the times Ferren told us stories of the council meetings she attended on the Estate, I never imagined they would be this intense, this ritualistic.

The Viathan council seemed like a meeting of friends compared to the grandiose way the emperor and priestess order enter, the precession falling in line like a synchronized dance.

We stand in what Ferren called the emperor’s wing, the temporary meeting place not quite suited for the number of patrons as it currently holds, waiting for the session to begin.

The Estate’s great damage forced them to repurpose entire wings until they can rebuild after the conjunction.

Yet, the opulence detailing every surface of this room is incomprehensible to me.

Some individuals even seem to match it in their dancing gold jewelry and patterned fabrics.

Several elders from the priestess order stand next to what I assume is the Emperor of Cosima, looking more aloof and elaborately dressed than anyone else in attendance.

Selene and August wait with me near a small group of order members who seem familiar with Selene.

But even with them standing next to me, I’m out of place, the only one dressed in simple Frithian clothing, dirt from the mountain likely still wedged in the soles of my boots.

Even Selene has adopted Cosima’s fashion, not quite the grey of a high priestess gown but noticeably close in the cut.

“If you fold, please take me with you,” August whispers into my ear.

I give him wide eyes. He is suffering from the atmosphere as much as I am, maybe more because he keeps inching away from the priestesses nearest us.

The emperor finally calls Viathan’s lord general forward and they greet each other in the strange, stilted way I have witnessed before.

“99th Commander and Lady Ferren,” the emperor acknowledges.

Lady Ferren?

I snap my head to August, who seems to do everything he can to pretend he is intently paying attention, avoiding my silent question at all costs.

The elder priestesses whisper behind me, and when I glance over my shoulder, they stare at Ferren with a cross of disappointment and disgust. My jaw throbs from clenching it as they continue to gossip incoherently.

99 holds a data pad with the statement that was prepared for me, the one I signed as we went over the details of what to expect here in the mess hall of August’s ship.

99 and Ferren did their best to prepare me for questions that could naturally come up.

However, 99 assured me of how eager they will be to hear about the update to the front line’s defenses and how quick he expects this to be.

I assumed I would be more overwhelmed than I am. Perhaps a sort of survival numbness has fallen over me, dulling my nerves so I don’t run out of the council meeting and seem suspicious.

“Elder Priestess Agatha, please.” The emperor gestures to a small-framed woman with shaky hands.

She steps forward and eyes the data pad in 99’s grasp suspiciously. “The Frithian girl is present?”

He nods.

My stomach drops to the smooth mosaic floor.

Ferren turns in my direction and waves her hand, inviting me to come forward.

I step toward her, and she watches the entire way, not resting her outward reached hand until I am standing beside her.

I glance back at August for just a moment, the only other person in the room likely feeling as out of place as I am.

Ferren notices. Her brown eyes flick back to him as well, her insistent observance not taking a break even now, when so much pressure is in the room.

The council members do not address me or even look in my direction. I am an inconvenient formality they have to tie up before moving onto more pressing conjunction matters, as Ferren put it, and that is fine with me.

“99th Commander, please read the statement.”

“Calliape of Frith, present of the day of the First Son attack on the Estate, present in the Estate's temple, a guest of the planet Viathan, posted in defense of the Estate?—”

He pauses when the elder priestess raises her hand.

“You possess gifts from First Mother, do you not, girl?” the elder priestess asks.

It takes me a moment to collect my voice. “I do.”

“Frithian divinity,” she states flatly, as if to remind the council or perhaps to preface the rest of the statement. “Continue.”

99 exhales in an audible huff. “Calliape of Frith sought assistance from the elders of her world, leaving the Estate?—”

“Leaving the Estate to travel the distance back to hers,” the elder interrupts again, and 99 relaxes his arm at his side, his impatience on full display.

“Traveling the distance between worlds is not a common gift,” the elder finishes. She steps forward, small but likely powerful. “The elders of Frith, what was their reply? Are we to accept assistance after lifetimes of apathetic silence?”

99 said this would be easy, but I have a sickening sensation that my being here by myself will elicit more inquiries. We knew they would want to learn how the elders of Frith would reply to the request of aid, so I repeat it just as planned.

“They could not come to an answer,” I answer as neutrally as possible.

I want to tell them the elders warned me of the monster and how many of their members are in danger.

But this is meant to divert any attention from what happened that day, from the book I used in their temple, from why we needed to set up a new ward in the first place, and from all the questions that would arise if I divulged any other details.

The elder hums. “Do you agree with the statement you have signed? Thank you, 99th Commander.” She nods her head at him as if his services are no longer needed to read the rest.

“Yes, the statement is correct and accurate,” I say.

“Good.” She turns her back to us, and relief spreads down the line, the tension dissolving as the end approaches.

But then she turns back, clasping her shaky hands.

“The elder priestess present in the temple with your party, before her untimely passing, she spoke of a Frithian with interesting gifts. Her mind was fractured from the events of the attack, however her gift was still clear, sensing divinity in others, down to the very gift they possessed. She spoke of a rare ability, rarer even than travelling the distance to other worlds. Do you have any idea what she referred to?”

I can tell how rigid Ferren is, waiting for me to answer the question they did not know would be asked.

A limited number of them have the information about the stone’s removal and its source.

Are they aware the ancient deity spoke, and I comprehended?

The interrogator said the elder’s mind was fractured, but by the way they are all watching me, they believe her.

The Frithian elders warned me not to mention that I understood the old god’s language to the order.

It made little sense then, but every hair on my body stands straight up as if predators are in the forest nearby.

“Forgive me, I do not. I’ve only the gift of folding distance.”

She seems satisfied, but others whisper to my side, the sting of it scraping across my skin and making me want to flee.

“Elder Priestess Agatha, I approve of the statement. Is there any opposition from the council?” the emperor announces.

The people dressed in elaborate Estate clothing murmur and some bow their heads to agree.

“Lord General, the Frithian is released to Viathan’s custody,” the emperor dismisses and then begins speaking of conjunction matters while I am still processing.

99 leans back to capture my attention and tilts his helmet to the side, signalling my release.

Ferren squeezes my hand and whispers she will find me after, but I can’t get away fast enough.

I slip out of the room as if I’m a ghostly apparition floating through the crowd, listening to the lord general update the council of the defenses they have put in place around the Estate.

When I breach the door into the overly decorated hall, I take a loud, satisfying breath. But Selene is on my heels, walking after me like something to be caught. I realize I walked right by her and August, so determined to leave that room and the nerve-searing questions behind.

“You need to be more careful. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is here for you?” Selene spits as she approaches me. “Do you realize what would happen if they knew you understood the language of the gods?”

“Selene.” I run my hands down my face.

“I would not be able to protect you.”

“Well, you looked very familiar with them,” I say and regret it because I know this is not what she wanted. She never asked to come back to this place.

“They may already know. You have been going down a dangerous path from the moment you left Frith.”

“Don’t.” I take a few steps away.

She catches up, raising her voice slightly and then recalibrating. “You are out of control, Calliape. I am terrified.”

“They accepted the statement, even if they suspect I am lying.”

“No. First, the voices you heard in the forest, and now you are folding between worlds. I have never known someone who could, and now . . .”

Her deeply set eyes are glossy and wild as they search my face. I am terrified too, but agreeing with her would give over control I am not willing to give up.

She glances back at the threshold of the council meeting, and August stands just outside, watching us. Too distant to hear but enough to make us aware of his focus.

“I do not like how close you have become with that Viathan,” she says low. “You can’t trust him.”

“Who can I trust then? Not Viathans, not the priestess order, not even my own elders who turned a blind eye when I asked them for help.”

She shakes her head. “You knew they would not. The mountain village does not involve itself in conflicts of the other worlds.”

“But maybe it should.”

“I do not disagree with you on this.” She takes a breath and places a hand on my arm. “I want to help you. It is all I have ever tried to do.”

I nod, hopeful but mostly exhausted.

“When will you tell them?” she asks, her tone a little different now.

“What?” I ask, perplexed by her sudden shift.

“They do not understand, nor do they remember that you tried to wake First Mother, but I do.”

It seems like a betrayal somehow. My body won’t allow any words or movement, only a frozen stare back at her.

She alone understood what was occurring.

And now, the way she presented that reminder is as if she is saying if I don’t confess to them, she will be obligated to.

She took the spell book from me, says she is terrified, but I am certain it is more solidly rooted in distrust. Just as this is.

When I don’t answer, she steps closer. “Calliape, you must. Someone was hurt.”

“You don’t think I know that!”

“I will make up your room in the safe house. Tonight, we will sit down together and figure out how you will tell Ferren what happened.” She touches my face. It’s gentle and meant to comfort, but it only stirs frustration.

I don’t need her to help me speak with Ferren, my own friend. I wanted to when I first returned but her state of mind threw me, and warning her about the monster’s intentions seemed more important.

Selene smiles at me flatly and returns to the council meeting without even a glance to August as she passes him.

He takes a few steps toward me, but I put my hand up for him not to approach. I’m too embarrassed to face him, and any kind word from him will unleash the tears I am fighting to keep inside.

“Fold somewhere I can easily find you.” His voice carries across the hall, indicating just how much he could have heard of my conversation with Selene.

I nod because it’s all I can offer, and when I turn to walk away, I close my eyes and fold to the first place that feels safe.

August’s ship.

I keep my lids closed for a long time, standing in the middle of the cockpit, knowing no one is around me. I am far from the observation of the council members and Selene’s borderline poisonous help.

It’s a relief I could fold to a destination this time after traveling so far, when it took days to recover the first time. The exhaustion is still heavy on my shoulders and eye sockets, but with each breath, I can feel myself recovering faster, the promise of privacy expediting the process.

“Calliape.” August’s voice startles me. “Calliape, are you there?”

The voice is muffled by Viathan technology, and it takes a moment for my body to accept he is not here in the cockpit with me.

The comm in front of his pilot’s chair is blinking, an indicator I have grown to recognize.

“If you are there, press the yellow button,” he instructs.

I pause and then tap the shining gold button, sure it’s correct. “There is no yellow button on this thing, only gold.”

“Well, it looks like you found it.” There is a smile in his voice.

“How did you know I folded here?”

“Lucky guess, and I hoped.”

It’s silent for a long while as I climb into his pilot’s chair.

“You can stay there for the night, on the ship. It’s locked,” he offers. “I can leave you alone. I’m sure you are sick of me after so many days trapped on Frith together.”

I can’t help but smile because I almost miss the simplicity of it, working on the beacon and trapping our food each night.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. I’m getting as far away from the Estate as possible. Even the statues in the hallways creep me out. Press the nonexistent yellow button if you need anything.”

I settle into his large chair, more comfortable than the ones around it.

The room is always slightly chilly, but for some reason, my face feels hot, and a thin layer of sweat speckles my forehead.

I noticed it during the council meeting, but now that the adrenaline is no longer surging through my system, I can guess the cause for my new symptoms. I place my forearm on the armrest and slowly peel the layers of gauze from my wound.

They stick and rip at the skin, the dull throb turning into searing pain.

The sweat on my forehead drips down my face. I left the salve Ruth gave me behind on Frith, the ache I have been dulling for days is now fully in bloom.

When I peel off the last layer of bandage, my stomach turns at the sudden release of no longer having it tightly bound, the feverish pain surging through me.

The wound looks much worse than before and is infected. If it’s not treated soon, it will spread. I have seen similar infections quickly take limbs. I can’t tell if the shortness of breath is from the fever or the sudden panic.

I press the button on the comm, hoping August is still there.

“August!”

“Here.”

“Can you come to the ship?” I steady myself, resolving that I need help and his is the only one I will accept right now. “I need you here.”