Page 40 of Daughter of Garnet

Not that I expected it to come.

The last dying breath of my delusion that I was a Beta came the day I had to run out of lunch because I felt my teeth falling into points after Warren said something that pissed me off.

He's been an asshole to Cliff since that day in the library when he saw me clutching the Beta's arm, and the little barbs are driving me crazy. Cliff has taken it all in stride, but it must make things uncomfortable in their shared room.

It's like Warren doesn't want to be my friend anymore, not since he kissed me.

I still can't get it out of my head, and not in a good way. Something about the way he held my body, as if I were a possession, has burnt any potential romantic feelings I had for him to dust.

I thought I'd be overcome with loneliness without him, but I'm not. His attitude is pushing me closer to Cliff and Viv every day.

Ilota has been silent, no matter how many times I pray to her. It's hard not to be furious at her over it. I'm telling myself that it must take considerable effort or devotion from worshippers to speak to me. It's the only way I can keep a lid on my resentment.

I read Fate of the Fire from cover to cover, and there was only that one reference to the Daughter of Garnet. I would believe it to be nothing more than a folktale if I weren't living it. I was chosen by Ilota after hundreds of years of silence, and now wear a chunk of garnet that has been in my family for generations around my neck.

There are no other books about Ilota in the library. At least, not ones that I have access to. I could ask Cliff if he would mind letting me into the archival section to check, but I'd need to tell him why, and lying to him feels wrong.

By the time I stop retching, Calculus is over, and I stumble back home. There was no point in waiting to walk with Warren.

For the last week, every time I walk into my room, I find something from Cameron, whether a note or a gift, and today is no different.

Sitting on my desk is a green glass bottle with a slip of paper beside it.

For your stomach.

I pop the lid off and sniff, my nose tickling with the scent of ginger water. I'm long past wondering how the mysterious Alpha knows things about me. The letters on my desk have proven to me that he has eyes everywhere.

This slip goes to the top of the larger stack, but, like a moth to a flame, I'm drawn to the small one, and like I am possessed, I read through the three notes there again.

I have them memorized, but for some reason, I need to see them in ink.

You need to rest. You're going through a lot right now.

You can't do this alone.

Secrets never keep.

If there was any doubt that Cameron knows the truth about what I am, these three remove it. He knows I am an Omega, and he's waiting for me to be ready to tell him.

And maybe I would, if my Goddess ever answered one of my pleas and gave me permission.

There is a knock on my door, and I sweep the notes into my desk drawer before opening it. Warren stands there, a bottle of ginger water in his hands.

"Brought you this for your stomach. How are you feeling?" I take the bottle from him and set it next to the other. He frowns. "Oh. Looks like you already have some."

"I'll drink them both, I'm sure. Thank you for looking out for me." He shoulders past me into the room even though I don't invite him in. "By all means, come in."

"Cool. I wanted to talk about something."

I sit on the edge of my bed and tug my dress from under my thighs, conscious that it'll show off too many of my changes if it's stretched taut. I wait in silence until he spits out what he came here for.

"You need to stay away from Cliff."

My immediate reaction, a swirling in my gut and an angry roar in my mind, takes me by surprise. It's bullshit he's asking this of me, and I'd never entertain it, but just the thought of not seeing Cliff has my teeth starting to grow sharp. I will it away, breathing slow and steady, while Warren continues talking.

"I don't like the way he looks at you. He's not a good guy, Zoe." My face must betray the disgust I feel at his statement, because he drops onto his knees in front of me and grabs my hands. "I know you don't see it, because he puts his best foot forward around you, but I live with the guy. You have to trust me on this. Have I ever lied to you?"

The history we've shared together makes my brain want to trust him, but my gut doesn't. The incongruence makes me feel ill, and my stomach roils again, despite it being empty.