Page 16 of Insolence (Eisha’s Hidden Codices #1)

Itissa

W hen lunch finally rolls around, I take the others’ satchels, volunteering to drop them in our rooms. Sadrie and Cordelia tell me to meet them in the atrium to eat our lunch.

I’m sweating, heaving for breath, and whipped into a perfect frenzy by the time I reach my third-floor bedroom. Standing at my washbasin, I barely manage to splash water on my face before the room spins out from under me.

“Gods.” I waver, collapsing onto my bed. Water. I should have been drinking more water.

This altitude is going to kill me if my libido doesn’t first.

Since yesterday, I’ve been aching with everything Elodie and I started and didn’t get a chance to finish. I tried relieving the ache myself, but it somehow made the unrealized craving even worse.

Back downstairs, I’m muttering to myself while I scan the laden sideboards. As if summoned by my raging desire, the refectory door opens and closes again.

My posture goes immediately rigid as I watch the Second High Priestess enter the dining hall and weave fluidly between groups of chatty initiates. She halts when she sees me staring.

That adorable, contemplative crease forms between her eyebrows, her expression otherwise unreadable.

I’ve taken all of two steps in her general direction when she turns and leaves. The door slams behind her, prompting nearby initiates to cut their conversations short and stare.

Oh, hell no. I bolt forward, following like a hound on a trail.

At the end of the hallway, she takes a right into our residence. Her lanky legs carry her halfway down the narrow perimeter hallway before I catch up.

She spins and backs up, carving what feels like a canyon between us. “What do you want, Tiss?” Her tone is as wooden as her casually noncommittal mask. “I’m pressed for time.”

Taken aback, I look around to confirm we’re alone in this part of the building. “Did I do something wrong?”

“I really can’t have this conversation right now.”

“ What conversation?” Given the vast amounts of vulnerability and intimacy I experienced at her hands yesterday, this isn’t how I thought our next exchange would begin. “Are you angry with me?”

“Fine.” She closes her eyes, inhaling deeply. “Not here. Come on.” She jerks her chin in the direction of the Learning Annex.

Perplexed, I swallow past the lump in my throat and follow.

The air is dry and warm in the recently vacated classroom. The familiar beeswax scent of wood polish lingers earthy-sweet around us.

She turns as soon as the door clicks shut. “I need you to understand that I care for you, Tiss, I do. But what happened yesterday can’t happen again.”

“What? Why not?” Torn between irritation and heartache, I reach for her, craving some form of physical contact. Some small grain of comfort. “If you’re angry, please just say so.”

“No, it’s—” Our fingers brush, and she yanks her hand away. “This is my fault. I should have never let myself get so careless. Carried away. Which is why I’m ending this now.”

Each statement hits harder than the one that came before, punching through my chest and pummeling my heart to pulp.

“I don’t understand you. I can’t keep up.

First you’re hostile, then you’re stoic or tender.

Yesterday you were drawing me in, and today you’re shutting me out. What’ll it be tomorrow?”

“If I could change our situation, I would, but it’s not safe to carry on like this. I should’ve never let my guard down to begin with.”

Frustration surges through me. I fumble to maintain my hold on my temper.

“Trust me when I say, I wish we were anywhere but here.”

And there it goes… Boiling hot rage scorches my veins. “No! I don’t trust you! Yesterday you felt safe enough to pin me against a wall. Get in my face. Tease me and provoke me like I’m a toy to be played with.”

“Tiss.”

“ Discipline me. Kiss me. Run your hands all over—”

“Tiss, stop .”

But I don’t stop. I can’t. “Not until you tell me why you’ve been so guarded. Something is wrong . What’s going on, Elodie?”

“I can’t fucking control myself around you, all right?

” she snaps, her grip on the emotionless mask apparently no firmer than mine on my temper.

“Currently, I don’t know if I can restrain myself when you’re near.

Is that what you want me to say?” Her jaw flexes, her tone lowering to a vicious murmur: “And just so you’re aware, if I had my way, I’d pick you up right now, throw you on that desk, and get my hands and mouth all over you. But I can’t, and I won’t .”

But she wants to. Very much, it seems. My mind goes blank in the wake of the unexpected confession.

“Do you know what pheromones are?”

“What?” I blink.

“Animals naturally produce chemical signals as a form of communication.”

“And why are we now talking about animals?”

“Because some women produce them too. You happen to be one of them. When you get strongly aroused, your body emits pheromones to signal your interest. I can’t help but sense it the instant it happens, and there’s a similar… immediate effect on me.”

I realize she’s telling me my arousal turns her on.

“It’s bad enough being around you with the things I already want to do…

” Her voice goes coarse. “But when you start leaking pheromones everywhere, like you were during class— Hell, Tiss.” She scrubs her fingers over her face and scalp, loosening pieces of hair that fall, framing her angled cheekbones.

The next time she looks at me, it’s with complete and utter abandon.

“If I’m not very, very careful, I will lose control again. ”

My stomach flips, and my face is immediately on fire. “We can be careful. We won’t get caught.”

“We did get caught! Sadrie saw us.”

“ That’s what this is about? But we can trust her! Actually, I think she might be like us.”

“Listen to me very carefully.” The high priestess closes the distance between us, her mask a distant memory by now.

She grabs me by the shoulders, squeezing until pain splinters to my fingertips.

Her eyes rake me in a way that teeters on violence, her voice coming low and ruthless: “This ends now, between us. If the sisters were to find out about any misconduct, especially between acolyte and priestess, there would be hell to pay. Punishment . I cannot impress upon you how severe.”

That word again . My thoughts immediately flash to yesterday.

I can’t help it; not after that pheromone confession.

I’m helpless while my mind skips back to her pinning me in the fissure, giving that cocky, dark chuckle that sets me alight.

Something insidious cracks awake within the very abyss of me.

Her nose is twitching before I realize what’s happening.

Oops…

“Not that kind of punishment,” she snarls, giving me a quick shake that rankles every follicle on my body. “We aren’t discussing this again. Do you understand me?”

“Sure, I understand.” I flap my arms, shucking her off. I understand you’re a cagey, insufferable bitch when you want to be.

“I need to go. I’m late meeting my apprentice.”

I stop straightening my clothes and hair to stare at her. I’ve only seen one person who meets that description since I’ve been at the temple. And somehow, during today’s class, I assumed the feisty redhead was apprenticed to the First High Priestess.

“Ghisele is your apprentice?”

Elodie glances skyward as if imploring Eisha herself.

“Oh, for gods’ sakes. Are you serious ?” My voice goes shrill.

“Yes! What of it?” For the first time since we came in here, anger—true, exasperated anger—transforms her features.

Her brow bunches over narrowed slits for eyes, and her voice drops, reaching a deeper, richer register: “Like I said already, I’m not going to fuck you, Itissa.

” She barks the expletive so hard, I flinch.

“If that’s what you’re after, I suggest making your peace with reality because it’s never going to happen.

Now. I’ve been patient after you cornered me when I clearly didn’t want to talk.

Do us both a favor going forward, respect my boundaries, and stay off my dick.

” She yanks the door open, letting it slam behind her with a great whoosh of air.

Fire explodes beneath my feet, enveloping my entire body. My heart pounds so hard I feel sick.

I want to scream. I want to collapse into a heap and cry my eyes out until sleep overtakes me. How can I hate her and want her so much at once?

It’s as if I’m possessed, consumed by a force I don’t understand. These powerful urges are a mystery. I couldn’t explain the contrivances of my wild mind if I tried.

I ’m in the throes of an absolute tizzy by the time I track my friends down in the atrium, my hands crammed with bread and cheese, a soft persimmon, and a single-serving steak pie with utensils.

I hear the finches’ happy chatter before I see them. The birds flit freely around the ground floor atrium, splashing in the tiered fountain and bickering over their feeding platforms. More finches flutter in and out of the potted trees, hopping from branch to branch and chirping uproariously.

An impressive glass and iron dome rises high overhead, allowing them plenty of natural light and space to stretch their wings. Their frolicking usually brings me a smile, but today I’m numb to their exploits and a little resentful that they’re probably quite happy with their pheromone situation.

Do birds even have pheromones?

Sadrie and Cordelia are sitting on a pair of benches by the fountain when I find them. I plop down next to Cordelia, disturbing the finches she’s tossing her leftover crumbs to. They dart away, hurling affronted shrieks at my intrusion.

“Took you long enough. Did something happen?” Cordelia eyes me up and down. “Perhaps someone , from the looks of it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I mutter, cramming bread and cheese into my mouth.

“Well, that’s a ‘yes,’” says Sadrie. She lifts the book lying open over her knee, amusement ghosting over her features.

Cordelia clears her throat. “As soon as you’re finished stuffing your face and throwing a fit—”

“I’m not throwing a fit,” I sneer, chewing loudly, even though I know that I absolutely am.

Sadrie licks a fingertip and turns a page, pure glee dancing in her eyes.

“All right,” sighs Cordelia. “When you’re finished stuffing your face and not throwing a fit, she wants to drag us along on a quick adventure.”

“What adventure?” I blow on a steaming forkful of steak pie.

“I thought we could visit the Archive together,” says Sadrie.

“You’re crazy,” I say between bites. “We have chores soon. And I’m busy planning a murder over here.”

“I think we all know by now that yes, I am arguably insane.” Sadrie directs her response to the book in her hand. “Evidenced by the fact that I continue to put up with your mystifying shit, Itissa.”

“If you can’t hack it, then leave the work to someone who can, Sadrielle,” I snark, a crumb flying from my mouth.

Cordelia blurts laughter. “I sincerely hope you’re not referring to me .” She turns to Sadrie. “Count me out if she’s going to be like this.”

Sadrie lowers her book, fixing me with a look that says she and I are damn well finding the Archive on her terms, whether I like it or not. Moreover, I’m going to have fun if it kills me.

Gods help me, something about her determination is extremely attractive.

She snaps the book shut and stands. “I only want to glance inside for a moment. I haven’t been in there yet, and you owe me for listening to your endless nattering last night.

And for whatever this is about.” She waves a hand over me before laying it over her heart, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically. “Come on, Tiss, please ? For me?”

Somewhere inside of me, I already knew she was going to bat her eyes and plead like that. My chest clenches, warmth flooding my bloodstream. My frustration with Elodie ratchets down several notches.

I set my food down and regard my friend, fighting the urge to grab her and kiss her just to see how much of my mystifying shit she’ll actually put up with. What I choose to say before she hauls me off the bench is, “I don’t care how damn cute you’re being, because that’s not— Hey !”

I’m jerked to my feet. My ripe persimmon rolls off my lap, landing with a splat on the floor.

Cordelia chuckles. “Serves you right.”

“I’m not dignifying whatever you were going to say with a response,” says Sadrie. “Time’s running short. Let’s go.”

“Murdering my fruit is definitely a response!”

“You ladies have fun now,” singsongs Cordelia. She’s busy crumbling my half-eaten bread for the finches. A veritable flock descends on the crumbs, along with the remains of my pie and the mangled persimmon.

Sadrie merely laughs, dragging me toward the cloakroom.