Page 129 of The Garnet Daughter
“His people love him, but they might hate us more,” August mutters. “I would bet his allies joined his cause because they want the Estate toppled. He is using their hatred to get what he wants as well.”
“If he is coming here and we leave, what will happen to the city? Will it still be attacked, or will he go after our ships?” I ask.
“We can defend ourselves in the sky. But we have better prepared for a land battle, using the Estate’s ward as part of our defense. One of you should leave, disperse the risk.”
“One stays as bait, and the other could be attacked in the sky?” Ferren finally sits. “I can’t leave you, 99, and I know you have to stay, so I will too.”
“If we need bait, then I should stay. I’m the only one who can fold to safety at the last moment. I could draw him in. Perhaps he wouldn’t even know you were gone, Ferren.”
“Neither of you are bait,” 99 cuts in harshly.
I turn toward her, prompting her to listen. “You were the only one to go back to the order. I saw the moment you knew it had to be you. It has to be me now. I feel it. I have volunteered my gifts before sometimes because I thought it was expected, other times because it was all I had to offer. But now, this is the only option we have, and I do not care to figure out the reason why I am the only one who can do this, but I am. I can ensure First Son’s army comes to the Estate. I will draw him in so our forces can destroy him.”
“I can’t just flee. I will fight on the front lines as he arrives.” Her eyes are bloodshot and glossy when she looks to 99, frantically seeking comfort.
“Ferren, please,” I plead. “If he is victorious and takes the city, takes me but you are gone, then he has only found two of his daughters this conjunction and will have failed again.”
99 holds her tightly, speaking through their tether, words not meant for August and me to hear. Whatever they share, she settles, as if he has breathed calm reason over her panicked, exposed nerves.
“You will fold into August’s ship once First Son’s army is within range,” 99 commands, looking between us. “Then take her to Frith.”
August nods, resolved in his orders. “Gladly.”
My stomach twists as it always does when we have to make decisions that could change the trajectory of our lives. I was so different the last time we separated, so lost and unsure. This time is harder in so many ways, separating and not knowing for how long. But with a soothing brush of August’s thumb over my palm, I’m suddenly reminded that this time I am not alone.
It doesn’t take long for 99 to arrange guarded transport for Ferren back to Viathan, expediting her departure so quickly, none of us have fully taken in and absorbed the weight of our plan. But the conjunction peaks tomorrow, and Ferren needs to be underway long before First Son arrives, sneaking out without notice.
She stands without expression at the base of the ship that will take her to Viathan’s capital building. 99 and August speak forcefully to the captain and commanders who will take her, their words distant but tones cutting through the sound of the readied engines.
As I approach her to say my heartbreaking goodbye, her eyes ascend to the sky above her head. I follow, curious what has caught her attention in the darkness. An oily film dissipates, like a slow-popping bubble, only for another filter to replace it, the clouds crystal clear for just a moment.
“A new highest has been chosen,” Ferren mutters.
And in the next breath, the temple’s bell begins to ring, signaling to the rest of the city another ward has been placed, a highest priestess chosen.
99 bounds down the ramp, hovering close to Ferren as a natural shield. “Is that?”
“The new ward around the city.” She nods, brows twisting in relief that if she must leave us, we are at least protected in a way she understands.
“Good,” he says but doesn’t seem pleased with the long process of the priestess order’s traditions.
August still remains with the Viathan pilot within the opening of the ship. When they both shake each other’s forearms, I notice August pulls him in roughly, speaking into the side of his helmet with the authority that comes with 99’s position not his own. But the pilot does not pull away or question it. He simply nods in understanding and shakes his forearm passively again.
“What is he doing?” I ask 99.
“Threatening the pilot,” he says flatly.
When August strides down the ramp, posture still surging from leftover emotion, my stomach lurches with affection, as I know he was speaking to the pilot specifically, someone in his own specialty, ensuring Ferren makes it back to Viathan safely.
“All set,” August tells 99 and then places his hand firmly at the small of my back, the movement so natural and smooth, it’s as if it’s something he has done for lifetimes.
99 tosses a half-acknowledged nod, an understanding crossing between them.
Ferren approaches August first, hugging him around the middle and whispering, “Take care of Calliape, she needs you.”
“Get to Viathan safely. It’s a beautiful place to spend the conjunction,” he teases gently and hunches forward to hug her. “I will miss you.”
When she turns to me, I sway a little, off balance, already on the verge of tears, but I hold them back, determined toappear strong. I embrace her, holding her so she cannot see how difficult this is and question whether she should leave.
