Page 22 of Unlikely Omega

“It’s too late for sparring,” Finnen says, his voice like gravel. “And the hallways of the convent are not the place for it.”

“Yes, Ata,” Dreon mutters, lowering the spear.

“I hope you were not trying to intimidate my assistant,” Finnen goes on, digging my grave deeper. “If I hear any complaint from her about it, you’ll have to deal with me.”

Oh, dear gods and goddesses of the pantheon.

“I said we’re good,” I hiss and tug on his sleeve again.

He hesitates. “But…”

“I’m going to bed,” I declare and start walking toward my room, because there’s no salvaging this situation. If anything, letting him talk any more is the worst idea. “You should both do the same. It’s late, as you said.”

My breath is caught in my throat, exhaustion battling fear and shock, tremors going through me, and then I hear steps behind me.

Incredulous, I turn around and curse softly.

Finnen is following me.

“What do you want?” I say, more savagely than I’d intended. “May I please get some sleep, Ata? Or do I need to serve the gods night and day? May they forgive me.”

“I only wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he says evenly, stopping in front of me. “You’re under my protection, and that acolyte was threatening you with a spear.”

I sigh. “You have to stop saving me.”

His brows draw together. “Why?”

“Because people won’t like it. Because they’ll think we’re in league.”

“Is that so bad?”

“Are you…?” …so stupid, I want to say but bite my tongue instead. I change tack. “Nobody likes discrimination, especially when it’s not in their favor. They’ll think I’m fair game. They’ll find a way to take me down.”

“Ariadne…”

It’s the first time he’s used my name and I freeze. Not because I dislike it, no.

I like my name on his lips.

Way too much.

“Goodnight, Ata Finnen,” I say firmly and turn to go.

“Call me Finn,” he says and by the time I’ve turned back around, he’s gone.

7

FINNEN

“That girl, Artume’s acolyte,” High Priestess Arleth says. “You should stay away from her, Finnen. I think High Priest Elegos has her in his sights, and so does the Council of the Twelve. You’d do well not to fall in their bad graces.”

I nod absently, clasping my hands behind my back, standing in front of her. Weak sunlight falls through the windows, warming the left side of my face. The cold breeze carries the sound of birds chirping and low voices from the gardens below.

Truth is, I don’t know myself why I keep returning to acolyte Ariadne. Why from the moment I met her I felt this urge to protect her. Why her scent hit me like a punch, why her pain slammed into me like an armored fist. Why I think of her when I’m not beside her, and when I’m beside her I feel like I’m drowning and also that I can breathe again.

“Are you listening to me, Ata Finnen?”

I blink. Rub at my unseeing eyes. “Yes, High Priestess.”

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