Page 116 of The Garnet Daughter
“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, Iamlosing 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.
“Sit,” he coaxes and then does so too, his knees pressing into me as he scoots impossibly close. His hand is so big, it clasps both of mine together, and he uses the other to tuck a curl of my hair behind my ear. Every movement and breath is intended to calm me and indicate he is here.
When I finally have courage to gaze into his eyes, they are so patient it makes my heart race. It’s a perfect display of my point, that he deserves more because he is so good, and I’m about to confess just how much I took advantage of his kind spirit. He has the right to know I left Frith for many reasons, but the one I gave him is not the whole truth.
“Callia, you can tell me anything.” He rubs the side of my face, sensing my inner turmoil.
“There is so much.” My voice comes out small.
“I am a good listener. Start from the beginning.”
“On Frith, I could . . . sense a voice. I couldn’t truly hear it most of the time, but I . . . felt it.” I glance up at him as if testing the waters.
