Page 19 of The Garnet Daughter
Another secret poisoning me.
And I can’t confess either to him.
He scratches at the grown-out stubble on his chin. “That’s why you don’t want to come back with me? You’re afraid?”
“Of course I am. Every time I try to help . . . I was stupid to think I could do something like that.”
“It was brave to attempt such a thing. And I’m not going back without you. They will have too many questions and we know I am not smart enough to answer them.” He bumps my shoulder.
“That part is true.” I mimic his playful contact and wipe the moisture that has made its way to my cheeks.
“You can’t stay behind. I need you—we need you,” he corrects. “Not because of your gifts or because you can help, but because . . . you’re you. I can list out all the things you have done right since I met you, but it will take some time,” he teases.
I shake my head at the silly offer. He’s trying to lift my spirits, but that is only because I’ve not revealed the truth.
I’m unsure if remaining on Frith would make the situation better or worse. If the tangle of wires August untwists is any sign of how extensive the repairs to the beacon will take, then I’ve some time to consider.
A long silence falls between us, one I would normally be fine with, but then I inhale sharply, needing to break it. “Thank you, August, for trying to make me feel better. You are a good friend, better than I am.”
A subtle look crosses his face that I can’t quite pinpoint, maybe he agrees or realizes something different entirely, but he covers it with the kind of smile I’ve seen him use when he is deflecting. “Don’t tell Ruth we are just friends. She’d be devastated.”
Chapter
Eight
August works on the beacon for days. The progress is minimal, but he is persistent and reassuring anytime I ask a question. Which I have many. I’m accustomed to all of the Viathan technology and its possibilities, but seeing it stripped down and ripped apart makes some of the fascinating mystery seem like uninteresting metal and wires.
I spend most of our days foraging for supplies, berries and small game around the beacon plateau. I could lean on others in the village to focus all my attention on helping August, but he has made it clear he works best alone. Reminding me of the only times I’ve seen him grumpy—when something mechanical is not doing as he wishes. And the thought of asking for help from Ruth or the elders turns my insides.
Today, August has finally placed the receiver back onto the beacon, after stripping everything in and around it.
“Hand me that?” He gestures with his chin to a pile of tools, not quite showing which he means.
I hold out three and he takes two, using one to turn the bolts that fasten the receiver to what remains of the beacon’s tower base.
“There we go,” he mutters over the tool he clasps in his teeth in a ridiculously affectionate tone to his work.
I sit on a toppled beacon piece, eating the berries I picked on our walk to the plateau this morning. This time I brought a small satchel so I could store them without crushing any. I can easily fill this three times for us both, and if we want something more substantial, I will check the snare I placed toward the back of the plateau, where the fallen trees lay.
“How do we know if it’s working?” I ask.
“Well, it’s attached.” He shakes the edges as if daring it to prove him wrong. “I will have to connect the wires again, and then hopefully we can turn it on. If we try too soon, it could melt the motherboard.”
“Oh,” I say, only understanding some of it. “So not ready still?”
“Not yet.” He throws me a quick smile.
I hold out the leather container of berries for him to grab a handful, but he shakes his head.
“I’m good on the berries.” He opens up a panel and pokes at some wires he has worked on the last few days.
“I will check the traps. Maybe we can have rabbit for dinner.”
He groans a little. “Don’t tell me until after I’ve eaten it.”
August misses the strange Viathan food he stores in the hull of his ship. Ruth has left bread a few times, which he loves, but I know the sight of skinning a kill does nothing for his appetite. The meat on Viathan is lifeless and packaged from an unknown hunter. I tolerated it, but there is an undoubtable taste difference.
“Maybe I’ll catch another one for you to keep as a pet.”
