Page 27 of Daughter of Garnet

Remember whose daughter you are.

Until the Daughter of Garnet walked the path again…

I’ve been telling myself for weeks now that the feeling when I touched the garnet was all in my head. That the voice I heard weeks ago was my imagination taking my fears and running away with them.

And yet, I have to tell myself that repeatedly. If I believed it, wouldn’t I have accepted that explanation as fact and moved on rather than ruminating on it?

Remember whose daughter you are.

Whose daughter am I? All Ansell women have had one daughter, who is always born before any sons. They also retain their surnames, refusing to adopt their husbands’ so that their daughters can carry the family name.

Remember whose daughter you are.

I thought it was a proud tradition, only a proud tradition, but after reading this story, one that was never taught in school, I wonder if there is more to those stories than what I was told.

Remember whose daughter you are.

What if the daughter I am is one of Garnet?

CHAPTER 15

Zoe

I wake with a start, gripping the pendant that I couldn’t bring myself to remove before bed. My dreams were once again filled with visions of volcanoes erupting and blankets of ash, so thick they could bury me as they have for the past two nights.

The early morning light slashes across my face, and I groan, knowing that there is no point in trying to fall back asleep when class is in a few hours. I may as well get up and grab a leisurely breakfast before Designation Hierarchy.

After a shower and a quick change into denim pants and a cotton shirt, I head out for breakfast.

I run into Cliff in the hallway.

“Hey, Zoe.” His smile is soft, and his eyes are half open. “Getting some food?”

“I could really use a coffee. I’ve had a rough couple of nights of sleep.”

He grunts and gestures for me to lead the way. "Same here."

As we cross campus to the Hub, I can’t help but ask. “Warren keep you up?”

I don’t know why I’m asking. I don’t really want to know what Warren is or isn’t doing with the people he meets here. Our entire friendship, since we were old enough to start dating, has been us turning a blind eye to one another's romantic entanglements, and if I were smart, I'd keep it that way.

But a piece of me demands to know. Like he belongs to me and I deserve to keep him all to myself.

I don’t know where that feeling of possession comes from, but it’s not one I want to entertain. I don’t even know if I’m into Warren that way. I’ve never really given myself the chance to think about it.

And yet…

“Yeah. He had a guest over.”

An uncomfortable feeling tightens my chest, and my skin heats. I feel a little queasy.

“Oh. Okay. Well, if you want me to talk to him about it, I will. He shouldn’t be allowing his dalliances to affect your sleep.”

Cliff’s grabs my forearm, and the warmth of his touch soothes my frayed edges.

“You don’t need to do that. I’ll set some limits with him. This is the first time it’s happened.”

Secretly, I’m relieved. What would I even say to him? I would’ve done it despite how uncomfortable it would have been for Cliff. In our few short interactions, I’ve come to appreciate his quiet, steady presence.