Page 122 of The Garnet Daughter
Another elder priestess stands and assesses me, dramatically tilting her head in inspection and then turning to High Priestess Ursa. “If we move forward with this one, she will need to take the vows, a timely ceremony. We would need to see a fast assimilation into the temple before the votes are cast.”
“I will oversee her introduction into the order. I am confident she will take her vows and rededicate her lineage to our temple and right the connection that was broken.” High Priestess Ursa nods smugly as she speaks.
Again, she insults me, Selene, and my mother. I may be forced to be here, but no one can make me take vows I do not believe in. I take another step forward and glare at the two women speaking about how I will dedicate my life to theirorder, as if I should be honored and follow their wisdom without question.
Selene’s eyes connect with mine, her words about staying true to myself ringing in my ears. I’ve walked on every world and in between. The soil of Frith, the sand of the birthlands, and the rubble of this temple is in the soles of my boots. The only vow I will take is never chaining my gifts to their desires and with it, my freedom.
“I will not take your vows, priestess,” I say with as little respect as possible.
Every whisper hisses to a ringing silence, not even a single gasp heard. I step out of the group I was forced into and judged with. “There are factions within your priestesshood that are corrupt in ways I did not think possible. You are blind to it, protecting stones that do not matter.”
Gasps finally fill the space, feeding me and urging me to continue. “I will not help you. You know very little of the world outside your temples and the stories you have spun. I’ve seen old gods, been granted wisdom you could not even imagine, seen into the eyes of the creatures on your ancient tapestries.”
“Enough! Leave this temple if you do not wish to continue, but we will not tolerate blasphemy in our presence.”
I stride down the aisle away from the order member scolding me like one of her lesser priestesses.
“Calliape,” High Priestess Ursa calls with disappointment unproportionate to the number of times we have spoken.
I lean over the capped end of her pew. “My mother foretold this was not my path. I grieve that I ever questioned her. You cannot use my gifts for the order’s bidding, no matter how high of a cost.”
I continue down the untidy temple aisle, focused solely on getting to Selene at the back. I reach out to her before she iswithin reach, her smile steady as she nods and comes into the aisle to embrace me back. “I love you, Selene, but I have to go.”
She holds my face, her expression creased with pride and even amusement. She wipes away the tears staining my cheeks. “I am so proud of my girl, and yes, you must go.”
A surge of freedom flows through me, the last piece I did not know I needed. I love Selene and always will, but I know now that my place in this world is not a place; it’s a feeling.
The others know what my gifts can do, what problems they can solve, yet I have never felt like my help was expected. At every turn, I have been trying to prove my value to our group, searching for a reason why I had the desire to leave Frith with them, but I’ve never needed to. I have kept a wall around parts of me I thought they would not accept, yet every time those flaws spilled out, creating mistakes I assumed would give them evidence as to the reason I am withholding, I’ve been proven wrong.
August is protective, yet was willing to teach me to fly, the version of self-discovery and freedom he knows best, even if it meant I went forth without him. He loves me, proclaimed it like a pent-up confession when he thought he may never get the chance to express it. It scared me at first, but I’ve slowly realized I love him too and he deserves to hear it back.
I force myself to wait until I fully exit out of the temple to fold, fighting with my own anticipation and the thought of their prying eyes on me, witnessing my gifts.
The moment my feet step forward onto the metal floor of the Viathan fleet ship, I call out his name, frantically searching the mess hall I left him in.
“August!” I bellow again, making my way toward the rooms of the living quarters and catching the attention of the commanders guarding the entrance.
Ferren runs from her chamber, dress kicking out in a swishing motion. “Calliape, what’s wrong? What is it?”
“Where is August?”
“He and 99 just stepped out. Are you alright?” She reaches for me with perplexed hands.
I can’t think straight. It’s as if I can’t wait another moment without speaking to him, like a physical sickness deep in my diaphragm that churns my insides. “Everything is fine. I just need to talk to him. Do you know where they went?”
She points out the entrance, sending me into an ungraceful turn before she even speaks.
But before I can dash toward the exit, where the stiffly alert commanders watch me, August turns the corner of the corridor ahead, 99’s form appearing just behind him, a dark shadow of armor as they backtrack.
“Calliape?” He strides in, pupils blown out and chest heaving.
I can’t compose a single word, the nauseous ache in my insides finally soothed, but my expression must need more time to recover from my admittedly hasty search because his twists in concern. His hands are on me, traveling up my body, wrapping around my neck, and cupping my face as he pleads for me to speak and answer him.
“I—”
He winces slightly at the crack in my voice. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
I shake my head and laugh at how different I am coming across than I intend. “August, I heard what you said on the ship. I said I didn’t, but I did.”
