Page 53 of The Garnet Daughter
I settle in to sit more comfortably, my shoulders less tense now as we see the remaining wind die to a calm breeze, the deafening sound the sandstorm made outside replaced by the familiar hum of the ship.
“Did I scare you away?” His voice has an edge of sadness to it that is hard to ignore. “That is why you wanted to come alone?
“No?”
He props a boot up on the console, but I can tell he is hurt. “Well, on Frith, after I told you how I felt, you practically folded back to Cosima without me, I assumed.”
“That’s not true. I just wasn’t expecting you to say that after all this time.”
He huffs and shakes his head in disbelief.
“I wasn’t!” I say more defensively than needed. “You are friendly with everyone, August. How was I supposed to know it was different?”
“Am I?”
“Yes!” I lean forward so he really hears me. “I considered that maybe you had feelings for me when we first met. Thought maybe I did too. But you flirt with everyone, Ferren, me, 99. Everyone.”
“I heard nothing after you admitted to thinking of me too.”
“Stop.”
“Have you considered it is not about who I am friendliest with?”
“No, and you left for so long after helping me move into the Viathan temple, I assumed I dreamed it all up anyway, so yes, I was not expecting it, but I didn’t fold away from you. It just happened . . . suddenly.”
His smile fades. “I’m sorry. I thought you needed space to acclimate on Viathan.”
“I did not want that.”
He leans in a little. “I am here now, not giving you space.”
My heart leaps so violently that my neck throbs as he watches me, studying my face.
I stand, breaking the spell of whatever is happening. “Things are different now.”
He leans back again, like it does not bother him. “Either way, I want to help.”
The response I have yet to think up is called off by Commander Wesley clearing his throat as he enters.
“Good morning, Calliape.” He places himself between August and me, blocking the space like he thinks I need interjection. “Is there anything I can get you? I can program the mess hall tea to brew from here if you like.”
August clears his throat dramatically as if holding something back or perhaps mocking Commander Wesley.
“I’m alright, thank you.”
Commander Wesley nods his helmet as the lights streaking across the windows catch his attention.
“Have you seen them before?” I ask to break the silence.
“I have not.” He looks down at me, less impressed than August and I with them. “We have clearance to depart. The place we are going to will be even less welcoming than this one. We will be in the heart of the birthlands. We need to be careful, and we need to be armed.”
I glance over at August, who starts his flight protocols, and I question if he was aware we had clearance before making sure I saw the lights.
I watch as Commander Wesley and August place weapons on their armor. August still wears Commander Vermeil’s, and I wonder if he brought any of his own clothes or if he thought that would give him away.
“I do not condone what you did, but we are less likely to run into trouble if we command more of a presence.” Commander Wesley hands him the helmet he has not worn since revealing himself. “We go as a united front.”
August seems offended Commander Wesley believes him more intimidating dressed in armor. But he puts on the helmet and moves toward me, his gait stiff, then comes to a standstill.
