Page 35 of The Garnet Daughter (The Viridian Priestess #3)

Suddenly, my breathing becomes a little heavier as I realize what this means, how it complicates the fact that we kissed.

No, it complicates everything, of how I proceed with Omnesis, of going back to Frith after the conjunction.

Of accepting Ferren may want me out of her life once she finds out the truth I have been keeping or how he may not feel the same after he knows too.

But maybe most of all, it complicates the lies I have been telling myself about how I feel about him, how I have felt.

“I don’t remember.” My voice cracks in flooded panic. “I-I didn’t hear you.”

He sees right through it, hovering close and boxing me in. “Which is it? You don’t remember or you didn’t hear me say it?”

“It can be both, August!” I climb out of his all-consuming proximity and turn back to camp.

“Calliape, wait!” He gains on me quickly and half steps in front to block the path.

I can’t meet his eyes. All I can do is stare off to the side and force myself to breathe.

“I’m sorry.” His whisper’s calmer, his palm reaching for mine hesitantly. “I should not have spoken of it until after, like we agreed.”

Did we agree to have a conversation after we go to the temple? My head is so fuzzy, like I’m being pulled in too many directions by different emotional strings.

“After,” I concede because it buys me time to process my emotions and what it means for my plans.

I must have joined my hand in his at some point because his rough palm is perfect against mine, our fingers entwined and his thumb grazing the top so gingerly.

There is so much I want to say to him. I am so used to saying whatever is on my mind, comfortable that he won’t judge me. Tease, yes, but never judge.

I can’t trust myself to say the right thing, to filter my doubts in a way that isn’t hurtful. It wouldn’t be fair to process them aloud and work those emotions out when he seems so certain. Even just remembering his confession makes my heart surge. But I can’t let myself get swept away.

But then I crash land back into the present, harder than my escape pod in the swallowing sand, when movement catches my eye in the branchy, seemingly dead tree near us.

A piece of light-colored fabric dances in the subtle wind that reaches the high cliffs in this desert.

It’s torn but tied tightly around a low branch, the end wiggling like a flag.

Every alarm bell inside me sings. “Remember when you said to tell you if I saw anything strange? Does that count?”

He turns to view where I am pointing.

The way his whole body stiffens justifies my sudden worry, as if he thinks the same thing. A marker. Unlike the trail markers I’ve seen some hunters use on Frith, this is not for us to find our way. This seems like it’s to mark for someone else.

He rips it from the branch with tearing force and stalks back into our camp.

“What is this?” He throws the fabric down in front of Sav.

“Keep your voice down, Viathan,” she hisses.

“Explain.” He removes his smaller gun from his hip and nudges her feet to get up.

She slowly turns over, glancing between us both with no emotion at all. And even when August points the barrel of his weapon at her, she does not break her calm, only flips up the offending fabric with an index finger.

“No idea,” she says.

“August . . .” I notice the dirty but still light in color fabric wrapped around her hands matches the one from the tree. “Look at her hands.”

“Who are you signaling to?” August spits through gritted teeth.

“No one.” She finally looks concerned, sitting up and shaking her head. “It’s not mine.”

“It was tied, marked our campsite. Who is coming?” August steps closer, pointing his gun.

“No one!” Her eyes gloss with panic. “It must have gotten caught in the tree when I relieved myself.”

“Bullshit,” August snaps.

“I swear it on First Mother and the old gods!” She raises her hands and shrinks away from him, but he does not back off.

“You said there were others who would come for the pod and for me,” I say.

“There are many out here who scrap. I do not call them friends. It was said in warning. Please, this is a mistake.”

She cowers like a trapped animal, her pupils dilated and lined in tears.

“August.” I put my hand on his shoulder because she seems so terrified.

We don’t have much proof other than suspicion, and for all that she is harsh and strange, she has kept me alive from the start.

Why would she do any different now? I have a pit in my stomach that I can’t shake, but it is not something to shoot someone over.

Fold and abandon the moment we can see the temple’s tree line, yes, but not kill.

“We shouldn’t do anything with her tonight, and we do need to keep our voices down. ”

“They could be coming for us as we speak,” he mutters.

“Who?” Sav asks. “There is no one, please.”

“Let’s wait until we can see the bird beak in the morning.” I give him a meaningful look. “Even if it is marked for someone, I only saw it when we were right next to it. It would have only been seen in the light. We have time to figure this out.” I press his forearm down.

“Thank you, Calliape. I swear it was not to mark you,” she defends.

August’s eyes flare when she addresses me, his arm only stopping from rising again when I step between them both.

“Let’s just sit and rest.” I walk to the other side of the fire, far enough away from Sav that we can watch her and still have our backs pressed against a cliff for safety. “Come on, August. You can point that at her from over here.”

Sav sits up, her legs crossed as she wraps her hand with the scrap of fabric we found, not helping her claims of innocence at all. “It is not kind to accuse. I have walked you across the birthlands, to be treated like this.” Her tone changes from pleading to almost annoyance.

August steps backward with caution until he is next to me. We observe her carefully, not engaging as she curses her hand wraps and starts again.

Her behavior becomes more alarming.

“I could have left you there!” Her eyes are wild with rage as she barks across the fire.

I press my side against August’s, disturbed by the sudden mood change as soon as August did not have a gun pointed in her face.

His movements are slow, almost undetectable, but he is getting ready, placing his shoulder overlapping mine.

He can sense the situation rising, of her doing something he will be required to act on.

“There is a them and they would have ripped you apart,” she mutters, her teeth gritted with hatred, her words trailing off as something floating down to the sand next to her captures her attention.

She leans forward, pouncing on it like a cat.

She holds it to the firelight, a fluffy feather dancing between her fingertips, changing her demeanor again to one of awe.

Small pebbles fall on her hair from high above the cliff’s sharp peak. She brushes it off and leans her neck back to see the cause of the suddenly falling debris.

I follow an ember of dancing ash from the fire, up the wall of rock to the top. The small flames don’t illuminate that far, the surface above just out of reach of their glow.

My vision adjusts the moment August’s does, the source of the falling pebbles perched at the ledge of the cliff above. Huge talons are cast in shadow but close enough to view the shine of sharp claws.

Sav gasps. The muffled sound of wings unfurling and diving downward on top of her cuts off her scream.

The creature launches itself on her form, wrapping her in a bundle of feathers before she can take in another breath.

It rolls itself and Sav out of the firelight, in a blur of sand and squelching blood.

August’s body is draped over mine. His weapon’s drawn and pointing out into the darkness.

He shoots blindly. Blue, streaking light illuminates the space beyond our campfire.

He adjusts his aim and fires again. And then again until his weapon has nothing left.

We listen as the monster tears into Sav’s body. She makes no sound, either long gone or unable.

My breathing is shallow and unproductive as August’s back presses into me, pinning me to the rock. He struggles to reach for his larger weapon.

And then it is silent. So silent my ears pop.

“August?” I whimper.

“Don’t move.” He shakes his head, slowly leaning down, spreading his arm across my chest, not willing to leave me completely exposed.

And then the attacker walks back into the orange light of the fire.

The monster strides on large, taloned feet, its four arms stained in blood, making its slate-blue skin purple.

Omnesis.

Its floating starlight eyes blink and watch us. Watch me.

The feathers of its massive wings shimmy as they unfold, and with a powerful beat, they lift off, shooting the old god into the sky and extinguishing the fire with a cloud of dust and sand.