Page 50 of The Garnet Daughter (The Viridian Priestess #3)

Chapter

Thirty-Four

T he rest of the conversation with High Priestess Ursa is a blur in my mind.

I could only focus on Selene’s expression.

The way it fell when my name was presented as a selection for the next highest. Even as others came over to greet me with their assessing demeanors, I could not take my eyes off Selene.

She looked utterly defeated, unable to express her true feelings as order member after order member spoke to her, painting a calm mask over the storm that was raging beneath it.

I hadn’t the slightest idea that some of her dealings in the Estate were to keep them away from me, or that it was even necessary.

She demanded I did not share the strength of my gift with them in the council meeting, and now I know exactly why.

Not just for the general eeriness the order brings, but because I may be what they have been looking for.

My mother was pregnant when she fled the order with Selene, but others had knowledge she was having a daughter, of the strong hereditary line she carried, passing it to me.

I often wondered what my life would have been like if she had not made that choice, if I were raised within the order.

Would I have been primed to be the next highest from my youth?

Did my mother’s choices tilt my scales and now they are trying to be corrected?

My stomach turns just thinking of the way they looked at me with a greedy shine in the whites of their eyes and not in awe of someone they deemed powerful.

The first chance Selene got, she made a welcome excuse for me to leave, giving me a certain look I have come to know means that our conversation has only paused and isn’t over.

I walk far out of the courtyard and around an empty hallway to get away from the priestess order and their beady eyes on me. I fold into August’s ship cockpit, resetting to the same spot I always do with little effort.

I waste no time when I see he is not there and try the mess hall, which is also vacant. There is no need for concern, but for some reason, I panic to get to him and fold into the cargo hull with stumbling speed surges through my veins.

The ramp is open, the stark lights of the ship making it seem like night has already come. A spotlight illuminates August and another commander just outside as they lift boxes onto a large platform that floats a knee’s height off the sandy ground.

“August.” I can’t hide the urgency in my voice.

Startled, he looks up into the cargo hull and smiles when his gaze lands on me, then he gestures to the other commander, handing him the data pad and pointing to a few other metal containers I recognize.

“You have perfect timing.” He ascends the ramp.

“99 wanted all the weapon totes he stored on the ship transferred to the front lines immediately. I forgot how many were down here, been sitting here since we brought Ferren back. It’s enough to make a difference at the perimeter.

Makes you wonder what he was planning to do if Ferren was not able to leave the Estate.

” He laughs a little and wraps a hand around my waist, pulling me in for an unexpected kiss.

I’m stiffer than I want to be. I love that he kisses me so freely in private, but I can’t stop the uneasy emotions swirling around inside me. I hate that I’m unable to match his sunny mood again.

“You’re still mad about this morning. I’m sorry.” His hand travels up to the nape of my neck and then he quickly kisses me again. “But I have something that will make you feel better. Come.”

His distracting enthusiasm makes it almost impossible to correct him for assuming I’m upset.

He quickly gestures me forward, walking backwards with a different kind of grin.

“Pretty open now, right? I was thinking, since I hate taking climate control jobs anyway, we could turn the cold storage into a greenhouse. Shouldn’t be too difficult, and you can grow Frithian tea leaves or moss or whatever you like to eat. ”

I give him a flat look at the last part. “I don’t eat moss, August.”

“I know.” He chuckles at his own joke and opens the doors to the cold storage room. “But it’s a significant size. Grow anything you want.”

I watch his grin fade into something a little shyer as he waits for my opinion.

He put a lot of consideration into making me comfortable here that he wants to modify his ship, remove a portion of his income to do so.

The idea shoots to the front of my mind that maybe he has been thinking of us together after the conjunction, what we will be and how we will live.

“My favorite tea grows on a tree. Can a tree fit in there?” I ask, being sure to sound excited about the possibility even though my mind is screaming at me to make sure I do not outrightly agree.

“I will expand the height if you want a Frithian tree,” he vows.

I can’t stop my smile. “I can prune it, I suppose.”

He nods, satisfied, and presses the panel for the cold storage to shut, the foggy tendrils dancing and dissipating reminding me of the room I saw on the First Son ship.

“You spoke with Selene?” His voice is gentle.

“She was in a courtyard with the priestess order.”

He winces just a little and then smiles, trying so hard to break through my defenses.

I sit on one of the few remaining totes. “They were making their selection for the new highest priestess so she was distracted. We bickered like normal, but it was different.”

He crosses his arms, standing closer to me. “How so?”

“She didn’t react the way I thought she would. We folded to Frith on accident, and you saw how she was. We left to the birthlands on purpose . . . so I just assumed it would be worse. She was colder about it instead.”

“Hmm, maybe she is realizing you can handle yourself better than she believes.”

“No, that’s definitely not it.” I take a breath to steady myself. I need to divulge the details of what happened in that courtyard so it will stop crawling under my skin. “She’s been making sure the priestess order doesn’t show an interest in me.”

“What does that mean?” The smiley lines around his eyes take on an unnerved angle.

“There was some priestess who knew my mother, and she named me as her selection.”

“To be a priestess?” His arms uncross, hand resting where his weapon normally is subconsciously, as if there is a current threat.

“To be the highest priestess.”

“You are Frithian.”

“In birthplace, yes. I was in my mother’s womb before she fled the order. It is likely known to them all now.”

“Did you deny them?”

“I was shocked and had no words.”

“So you are considering it?” His voice borders on agitation.

“I . . .”

“Tell me.”

“I thought about it for a moment of course. But it doesn’t mean I want to, and who knows if it’s even a true possibility? The priestess who named me seemed very . . . strange. Can’t you understand that? You know I have wondered what my life would have been like if my path was not altered.”

“What do you want your path to be then? Not what you should do or what you were born for. What do you want, Callia?”

“I want . . . I don’t know. I left Frith thinking I would get some answers as to why I was so restless, so . . . lost. But I don’t know, August.”

“I’ve been patient, and I am willing to be patient for much longer if you need time to figure out how you feel about me. I know how I feel about you. I have known all along.” He inhales sharply. “But if you go this route, it would draw a line, and if you are ok with that, then please tell me now.”

“August, I am not taking any route or drawing any lines. I was just as surprised as you are!”

“Good!”

“I should be able to tell you this without you losing your mind.”

“Well, I am losing my mind, alright?” He throws his hands up in the air dramatically, and for some reason, it soothes the agitated edge of our conversation so much that I have to cover my mouth to hide my amusement.

He paces a few steps, huffing to himself, but when he notices I’m hiding a smile, he darts forward, placing his palms flat on either side of my hips. He stares at me, pupils growing more gentle at my reaction, glancing down at the back of my hand before kissing it.

“What if I want to go back to Frith after the conjunction? It was very lonely on Viathan in my little temple,” I muse when he pries my hand away, the hasty plan I made in the birthlands still holding on with strong roots.

“Wherever you decide won’t be lonely if you don’t want it to be, just say the word.” He squints playfully.

I close my eyes because looking at him when he says things like that makes my heart ache. “August, why me? You deserve someone?—”

He places a finger over my mouth to silence me, squishing my lips so much I draw back in surprise. “We are not having this talk again.”

I wiggle out of his grasp, shocked at how domineering he is suddenly, even if it is cushioned in playfulness. “I’m serious.”

“As am I.” He reaches for me again.

“You wouldn’t want me if you knew who I truly was.”

“I know who you are.”

Something snaps in me, the lies I have been holding onto, making me sick as I think about how they will affect us and finally manifesting in blinding emotion. “You won’t want me when you hear what I have done!”

It comes out as a spitting declaration, surging forth without warning and taking away my lungs’ ability to expand enough for a satisfying breath.

August’s stricken expression from my sudden outburst contorts, transforming from blank confusion to utter calm.

Instead of the flood of questions I assumed would follow, he inhales until his shoulders lift and his chest puffs outward, so much I fear it will crack his sternum.

His fingertips brush against mine, a gentle attempt to hold them again, and when I grasp his palm, he guides me back to my makeshift seat, grabbing another tote for himself.