Page 7 of The Garnet Daughter (The Viridian Priestess #3)

Chapter

Seven

“ I did not believe it was true!” a familiar voice chimes.

Ruth approaches as we reenter the main village path just as the storm begins, her expression one of disbelief.

She lives nearby, it would be unlikely she wouldn’t see us, but I assumed I would at least make it farther than a few steps.

Word has likely spread like wildfire of my return, and the opinions as well.

I plaster a pleasant smile and brace for what happens next, one I’m not in the mood for no matter how kind Ruth is.

“The others said you were here,” she continues, wrapping an arm around me in a tight embrace.

Her other cradles a bundle that she immediately presents, flipping over the cloth corner hiding dried meat and bread so fresh the fragrance of steam makes my stomach rumble.

“I was just headed over to yours.” She juts her chin in that direction.

“Oh, thank you. That is very generous.”

“It’s nothing.” She flicks her hand in the air, dismissing the gesture. “I will walk with you both.”

She greets August, who discreetly tucks the receiver box at his side.

Because Ruth is not versed in any technology at all, if she notices what he carries, she would dismiss it as a strange Viathan object.

They fall in step behind me and exchange pleasantries, and she shows him the food she has brought us, offering the meat for him to test.

“My husband smokes it with spices and tree barks, a hobby as much as it is for survival.” She laughs.

“It is delicious,” August compliments over a full mouth.

My stomach growls because I remember how good it is and there’s nothing like it in the other worlds.

“We were so sad you decided to journey back to Cosima with the representatives,” Ruth says a little louder to me in the front.

She doesn’t seem betrayed or even upset on Selene’s behalf that I left Frith without saying proper goodbyes. I wonder what polite lies Selene told, letting them spread and morph out into the village as they always do.

“It is . . . nice to be home,” I lie over my shoulder. The elders were clear that we need to make as little fuss while here as possible.

“How is our Selene? She did not return with you?”

“Selene is well.” It’s silly to be optimistic, but it’s easier.

Selene is not well. I know her and how much she disapproved of what I did even as it was happening.

How betrayed and worried she must be. I’m furious she concealed the spell book from me, but my anger is now mixed with a frustrated edge the more I realize her concerns were justified.

I take a step onto the porch that used to be my home and turn toward Ruth, hoping she does not ask to come inside.

It will be hard enough entering the home I never intended on returning to.

Having to stuff down anything that comes up will be too difficult.

I need to do this alone. Alone with August.

“Will you and your new husband join us for dinner this night?” Her smile is devilish. I forgot how clever she is at conjuring information. Even a simple reaction is confirmation enough for her.

August coughs a little on the tough meat, and by the time he recovers, I am unsure if the darker shade on his cheeks is because of Ruth’s comment or lack of oxygen.

It seems peculiar to correct her, to tell her that August is a friend. Ruth is a friend and the word fits what we share. But it doesn’t when I consider August. Family would be closer maybe. Platonically bonded and stranded together is too much detail, I think.

“Maybe another time, and August is not my husband,” I settle on.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed. Don’t mind my romantic heart trying to find meaning for your departure." She waves another dismissive hand. “If I cannot cook for you, is there anything else I can do?”

“A change of clothes?” August asks, unsure.

When Ruth looks confused, I add, “We packed light and the rain . . .”

“Of course, no trouble at all.”

“Thank you again for the food, Ruth. I will find a way to repay you.” I open the house’s long-unused door, hoping she doesn’t find it rude, but she asks too many questions, has too many friends, and by evening, the entire village will know what she has found out.

“Don’t bother.” She hugs me with both arms, her chin poking into my shoulder.

“I will meet you inside.” I catch August’s attention and flick my eyes to the door, hoping he assumes I simply want a moment alone with Ruth and not so I can tell her I am injured without him insisting she examine it.

August thanks her, still a little hoarse from his coughing fit.

“Happy to see you again,” Ruth tells him with a smile and lingers like she knows I need to speak with her alone.

And on this topic, I have her utmost confidence.

Ruth is a healer, and she has drawn a hard line on repeating information on such matters.

A practice I’ve seen firsthand so I’m confident she won’t mention it to anybody.

She leans in closer, ducking her head, likely thinking I need something private and not just pain relief for my forearm.

“Could I have some salve? I have a minor burn. We got caught in the rain and the torch . . .” I cover my finger as if it’s the location of the injury. If she saw how badly my arm is wounded, she would not give us the space we need to move about the village and fix the beacon with no distractions.

“Oh dear, I will leave it on your porch if this rain ever stops, give you privacy.”

She can’t help herself in adding in the last part.

August is opening the window shutters when I join him inside.

The air is stale in the empty home. It’s odd referring to it as mine.

But it remains just as I left it, somewhat dusty but even the table is set for two.

Selene knew she was leaving when August came for her.

She knew she would return in the end, but when I departed the way I did, I never imagined I would stand in this place again.

August seems a bit distant, not meeting my eyes but watching me glance around the space. He fidgets, unsure if I’m upset being here. But I am not. I don’t know what I am.

“I will look for the tools,” I blurt out, hoping the task will distract from the weird atmosphere.

I stride toward the back of the house and open a small room we used for food storage in the colder months when the mountain does not provide as many fresh options.

I shuffle a hefty burlap bag of root vegetables back and forth until I reach the back of the shelves and see the leather satchel where the metal tools are kept.

“Found it!” I extract it from its long-lived place, and as I turn, August is suddenly right behind me. “Oh, sorry, I thought?—”

He smiles and takes the heavy load from my hands. “This looks interesting.” He lifts it with ease and gives it a little shake.

“Temper your hope. From what I remember, these are more for Frithian home repair than beacon mending,” I confess

“Noted. Let’s see how creative we need to be,” he mutters and plops it on the kitchen table next to the receiver.

I pull out heavy pliers I used to mend a wire trellis in Selene’s herb garden many years ago. “Will these work for anything?”

He blows out an exaggerated breath. “Maybe.” He rummages through the rest of the contents, judging each piece for so long I worry.

“I’m sorry this is all we have. Ruth has surgical tools, but if we were to damage them . . .”

“No, we will make these work. I once fixed my father’s jammed bread mill with a rock and some twine.”

I smile at that. I love hearing of his family. Even small snippets I can picture so vividly, as if I have already met them.

“It would have been easier if I folded us to my home in the Viathan settlement. Your family or Allister would help without question.”

“We would have just as much trouble leaving if we folded anywhere near my family.” He grins, the dimple on his left cheek making an annoyingly charming appearance, then runs his palm over a tidy row of tools he has laid out.

“I’m going to change. What else do you need?” I rub at my eyes, exhausted.

“You should rest too. This will take me a while.”

I snag a hunk of bread and a few pieces of dried meat. “You can stay in there. The room is for guests.” I point over my shoulder.

“I remember.” His smile is flat, likely from the memory of Ferren staying there when she was gravely injured.

I take a deep inhale and occupy myself with searching for an antiseptic, but the cupboards are cleared, Selene presumably giving away the liquor to our neighbors before she left.

“There is a washroom in the back, but if you want hot water, we will have to start a fire.” I place a metal bucket in the basin of the kitchen sink and pump the well handle until crisp water races out. I don’t mind a chilly bath, even if I grew accustomed to the warm showers on August’s ship.

“I will manage. Thank you, Calliape.” His voice is smooth like a caress, his smile taking on a different, sweeter meaning now.

I attempt a friendly smile back before making my way to my previous living quarters, supplies in hand, and when I glance back at August, he is already caught up in the needed repairs, attention going back and forth from the tools to the interior of the box.

It is odd returning to my room, seeing my things just as I left them. I strip down and change into a wrap dress I would normally wear for a special occasion. It’s not my first choice, and I abandoned it for a reason, but being in something clean and dry feels so nice.

I use the cold well water to wash away some of the grime of the forest and pat the burn on my arm carefully, but even water stings like I’ve doused my angry skin in a substance much harsher.

As if I can’t control my own body, I spread out across my bed into the feather-stuffed blanket with an exhausted sigh.

I can sense myself dozing off a breath later but am unable to stop it.