Page 35 of The Garnet Daughter
“Clarify.” 99’s voice is tense.
With a painful exhale, I add, “Snuff out those it considers to have false divinity.”
Ferren begins a few stammering sentences and gives up.
“If we can speak to that elder priestess who was in the temple with us. The rituals they were performing in the Temple of Divine Mothers could only be performed because someone trapped it. She might have more information.” I can’t hide the panic in my voice.
“The elder priestess can’t help us. She is dead. I remember what she said, but I thought it was gibberish,” Ferren admits with a faraway look.
“What happened to her?” I ask.
“Suicide,” 99 answers in a way that sends a chill down my spine.
“It could have killed me right then and it didn’t,” Ferren muses almost dismissively.
“Could it really kill all the women who were born in that temple? Doesn’t that seem like it would disturb more of the balance?” August asks, and it makes little sense to me but Ferren clings to it.
“That’s true. Even if I am an abomination as it says, how many of us are walking around Cosima with lives that branch tothousands of people? Killing us all could change the course of this war, and if it took the stone to protect it from First Son like the Frithian elders believe, then it must be on our side in some way.”
The longer she speaks, the more confident she sounds, the worry draining from her face. She is tired and has been through so much in a short amount of time. Knowing that an otherworldly force is destined to kill her is not something she will accept after fighting for her new life for so long.
Selene is silent. I suspect she is probably thinking the same as I am.
“We have to deal with one thing at a time. Calliape, I know you are worried. Once the ward is in place, it will be safer and we can look more into this . . . Omnesis creature,” Ferren plans.
She is being brave, but the person she was when I first met her would not have been. When her head was sharp and clear and not tarnished by constant danger wearing away on natural instincts. She is not afraid, but she should be, and I’m not sure how to convince her otherwise.
Chapter
Thirteen
In all the times Ferren told us stories of the council meetings she attended on the Estate, I never imagined they would be this intense, this ritualistic. The Viathan council seemed like a meeting of friends compared to the grandiose way the emperor and priestess order enter, the precession falling in line like a synchronized dance.
We stand in what Ferren called the emperor’s wing, the temporary meeting place not quite suited for the number of patrons as it currently holds, waiting for the session to begin. The Estate’s great damage forced them to repurpose entire wings until they can rebuild after the conjunction. Yet, the opulence detailing every surface of this room is incomprehensible to me. Some individuals even seem to match it in their dancing gold jewelry and patterned fabrics.
Several elders from the priestess order stand next to what I assume is the Emperor of Cosima, looking more aloof and elaborately dressed than anyone else in attendance.
Selene and August wait with me near a small group of order members who seem familiar with Selene. But even with them standing next to me, I’m out of place, the only one dressed in simple Frithian clothing, dirt from the mountain likely stillwedged in the soles of my boots. Even Selene has adopted Cosima’s fashion, not quite the grey of a high priestess gown but noticeably close in the cut.
“If you fold, please take me with you,” August whispers into my ear.
I give him wide eyes. He is suffering from the atmosphere as much as I am, maybe more because he keeps inching away from the priestesses nearest us.
The emperor finally calls Viathan’s lord general forward and they greet each other in the strange, stilted way I have witnessed before.
“99th Commander and Lady Ferren,” the emperor acknowledges.
Lady Ferren?
I snap my head to August, who seems to do everything he can to pretend he is intently paying attention, avoiding my silent question at all costs.
The elder priestesses whisper behind me, and when I glance over my shoulder, they stare at Ferren with a cross of disappointment and disgust. My jaw throbs from clenching it as they continue to gossip incoherently.
99 holds a data pad with the statement that was prepared for me, the one I signed as we went over the details of what to expect here in the mess hall of August’s ship. 99 and Ferren did their best to prepare me for questions that could naturally come up. However, 99 assured me of how eager they will be to hear about the update to the front line’s defenses and how quick he expects this to be.
I assumed I would be more overwhelmed than I am. Perhaps a sort of survival numbness has fallen over me, dulling my nerves so I don’t run out of the council meeting and seem suspicious.
“Elder Priestess Agatha, please.” The emperor gestures to a small-framed woman with shaky hands.
