Page 24 of Unlikely Omega

At the communal noontime meal, I listen out for Ariadne but don’t hear her. People crowd in around me, other priests speaking to me, asking me how I’m settling in, about having two gods, about the rumors that I’ve taken on an assistant.

I bow my head and shovel in my food, lost in my thoughts.

Arleth was right, my move has made waves. A newcomer, the youngest priest in generations, daring to do something even old and withered priests don’t do: claim an acolyte.

Their voices close in, too loud, and my stomach keeps churning. Why hasn’t she come to eat? Is she all right? Will she seek me out?

“I hear you took on an assistant,” yet another priestess says, leaning over the long table, making the wood groan. “Is it true?”

My control is fraying fast, faster than I’d expected.

I growl and shove my bowl back. “I’m blind. I serve two gods. Am I not allowed some fucking assistance?”

A susurrus rises around me, a suffocating cloud, and this time I push my chair back and lurch to my feet, then turn around blindly—ha—and make my way out of the dining hall.

Nyx and Briareus help me.

This isn’t normal. It’s never happened to me before. I have risen to the rank of priest very young because I worked damn hard, because I believe in my path, and now I find myself constantly distracted, my temper short, my manners shot.

Alienating other priests and priestesses.

Doing the exact opposite of what High Priestess Arleth said I should be doing.

Then again, I haven’t been seen with Ariadne, either, so well done, self, right? I managed half a day without seeing her. I’m good at following instructions and advice.

But by the evening, I’m antsy. I haven’t seen her all day, and going through the ritual dances isn’t enough to take my mind off her.

It’s so damn annoying. I slash at the air with my bare hands—dancing one of Briareus’ wind dances, almost a fight with oneself—and snarl at the world in general, feeling like a trapped animal.

What is the fucking matter with me?

It’s normal not to be with her, I tell myself. She’s an acolyte. She has chores. She doesn’t hang around priests. Stop obsessing. Stop thinking about her.

I can’t. I fucking can’t. My stomach is in knots. I need to know she’s okay.

Fuck this. Abandoning my ritual, giving a stiff bow to Briareus’ statue and muttering an apology to the great god in the hopes that he won’t smite me as I walk away, I leave the Divine Circle.

I have to find her.

Abandoning my ritual in the midst of the dance and scurrying away is bad enough.

Not finding Ariadne no matter how I search is even worse, and not only because it renders my aberrant behavior futile, my infraction fruitless. No, above all it’s because the need to see her is gnawing at my mind and my bones.

I walk the Temple, entering room after room, sanctuary after sanctuary. I walk the Council’s wings, nodding curtly at any councilor who greets me, avoiding any conversation, not lingering anywhere.

Until a shadow falls over me and High Priest Elegos steps in my way.

At least I’m sure it’s him the moment he opens his mouth. “Ata Finnen. Always so intent on where you’re going. You’ve been wandering the entire fort for some time now. Looking for someone?”

“None of your business,” I push out through gritted teeth.

“Is that how it was in the backwater stable you crawled out of? You were never punished for insulting your superiors? Guess what, novice. Here things are different.”

“Apologies,” I manage. “I’m in a rush, is all.”

He steps closer. “You can’t protect her, Ata. Not without consequences.”

“Let me through.”

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