Page 17 of Insolence (Eisha’s Hidden Codices #1)

Itissa

T he Archive is a small wing connected to the rear of a much larger building called the Gallery of the Goddess that I haven’t yet visited.

“So you’re really not going to tell me?” Sadrie whines while we cross beneath the Waymark’s branches.

“For the last time, there’s nothing to tell.”

“Oh, there’s definitely something to tell.” She nudges her shoulder into mine. “You stormed into lunch looking like someone ripped your heart out and set it on fire.”

“Will you hush?” Mortified, I glance at a group of new initiates talking and laughing by the clock tower. Which is hopefully too far away to hear us, but gods only know.

Sadrie looks around the courtyard, her expression a caricature of deep puzzlement. “Everyone is clearly preoccupied. And out of earshot.”

“Doesn’t matter. I thought I could trust you not to go blabbing my business in broad daylight.”

“That was a judgment error on your part, but I don’t blame you. I’ve got an honest face.” She shoots me a saintly smile, propping her chin on the back of her hand.

I groan, briefly fantasizing about wringing her neck, and give her a shove. It sends her weaving away from me, her head thrown back in laughter.

Several members of the clock tower group stop their chitchat to stare.

“Will you please stifle yourself?”

She trots back. “All right, all right, I’m sorry. I’ll be more subtle in public. But if you’re not going to tell me what happened before lunch, then at least fill me in on what in the hell I interrupted yesterday.” She leans in close, whispering the last part.

“I already told you everything.” I repeat the same lie I’ve been using since last night. Spinning away, I start up the wide steps to the Archive.

“You keep saying that. And yes, while I believe you told me everything else that’s ever happened between you two, there was definitely something in that weird cave that you are leaving out.”

“Mind your business.” I push through the heavy Archive door.

Once inside the dim anteroom, it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. The earthy-sweet aroma of aged paper tickles my nose, inspiring a wistful sigh.

Sadrie and I are close enough that our arms brush in the cramped space. She turns to take my hands, her touch sending hot desire bolting through me so intensely, my breath stalls.

“You still haven’t told me why you have bruises on your wrists,” she hisses.

“Don’t worry about it. How many times do I have to say it?” I try to pull away, but she tightens her grip.

Her expression sobers. “She didn’t hurt you, did she?”

The careful way she says it cramps my heart. “No, she didn’t hurt me.”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to tell the sisters or anybody else, but I could make sure you weren’t alone with her again.”

Again, the urge to kiss her is overpowering. “Thank you.” I squeeze her fingers, warmth flooding me. “And yes, I’m very sure that she didn’t hurt me. Not in a bad way, at least.”

Sadrie’s eyes bulge, and she clutches my arm. “Excuse me, is there another way?”

“Oh, gods.” I shake her off, but she’s already cackling with triumph.

“I knew it!” she crows. “That’s a lot to take apart and examine, Tiss.”

“Can we not, please?”

“What happened? What happened? What happened ?”

Kicking myself for saying too much, I twirl on my heel and take off running. “You’ll have to catch me first.”

She whoops in response and hightails it after me. She’s right on my heels as I dash through an arched pass-through hung with heavy curtains into a high-ceilinged room. Loaded bookshelves and cubbies full of stacked scrolls crowd the space.

I dart to the left and sprint toward the end of an aisle.

“You should know this is my idea of a good time!” Sadrie cries, racing to catch up.

My feet pounding the floor runners, I dodge between the shelves and cubbies. They’re wedged and crammed into the cozy space, forming somewhat of a maze.

I’m gasping with laughter as I wheel around the end of a shelf. I break into another spurt, careening between two more shelves, then between two more. She’s hot on my tracks, no matter how many times I try and shake her off.

Bursting through the gap in the shelves, I come to an open area with a cluster of wooden card catalogs in the center. They’re shorter than the surrounding shelves, coming waist-high on me.

I put them between us and spin to find Sadrie flushed, grinning, and heaving for breath on the other side.

Running with the extra weight of my cloak has me just as winded. The wool garment probably weighs ten pounds by itself. “You belong in a circus, you know,” I say between gulps of air.

Doubled over, hands on her knees, she glances over the card catalogs. “There’s a high probability I’ve been told that before.”

I unfasten my cloak and pull it off, laying it atop the low cabinets. “There’s a high probability you were carted directly from there to here.”

“That’s rich.” She straightens. “You’re the one racing through here like an animal.”

“And you chased me like a maniac!”

“Oh, you love the attention, Itissa.” She unfastens her own cloak and tosses it on top of mine. “You’d be devastated if I ever decided to ignore your shit.”

My head cants to one side. I’m goading her before I can stop myself: “Come over here, and let’s find out exactly how much of my shit you’ll put up with, Sadrielle.”

With that, the pursuit is back on.

She lunges at me, laughing and chasing me around the card catalogs. I skip sideways, dancing to avoid her but keeping her in sight as she lurches left, then right, then feints left only to dive into me.

When she catches me, she kisses my cheek, hot with exertion and excitement. The brush of her cool lips sends a jolt of electricity between my legs. I go still, the air strangling in my lungs.

“Tell me, Tiss,” she breathes, wrapping me tight in her arms and pulling me close. “What do I have to do to get your attention? Hmm?”

“You’ve had it,” I whisper back, paralyzed by the bold gaze flashing beneath her thick lashes. Under my ribs, something fierce and dissolute shifts and growls. Gods, I need her , I realize. “How do we know there’s nobody else in here?”

She dips her head, teasing her lips over my sensitive neck. “Funny, you don’t strike me as the timid sort. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

The stimulation drains all strength from my legs. Knees buckling, I groan, then catch myself and tug out of her arms with a wild giggle.

Stumbling a little, my muscles the consistency of jelly, I bolt between more shelves and burst into a shockingly wide open space on the other side.

I’m not thinking when I grab hold of one of the study tables, pulling myself to a stop; it’s simply a reflex.

A reflex Sadrie isn’t expecting. With a yelp, she hits my back. “Ow, Tiss! What are you—?” But then she sees them too. “Oh, my gods.”

A series of floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows line the far wall, every panel depicting a different type of tree. Each is labeled in black lettering on an unwound scroll laid over exposed roots: willow, hawthorn, hazel, elder. In the middle: yew.

The magnificent sight is wholly arresting.

Layered glass leaves shimmer like emeralds against azure panels of sky. Three-dimensional dragonflies, finches, and butterflies take repose on their trunks and boughs. The delicate creatures have also been painstakingly crafted from stained glass.

Tables and chairs are grouped in front of them, making a cozy study area. Rows of tall shelves and cubbies hem in the area on all sides.

Dust motes drift lazily, glittering in the jewel-colored light. For a few moments it feels as though we’ve stumbled upon a secret library lost to time itself.

“See,” whispers Sadrie. “We’re the only ones here.” I gasp as she nuzzles into my neck, her hand caressing my waist.

My muscles jerk, and I’m running again, pulling her with me this time. We dash between tall shelves, and I spin, grabbing her close as soon as my back hits the wall.

Sadrie’s mouth seizes mine, all wet heat and wild enthusiasm. Her hands are in my hair and roaming my body, her desire as vicious as it is luscious.

A shred of reason squeezes through the excitement: We shouldn’t be doing this. We’ve taken vows!

Then she’s bunching my dress in hungry fists, wrenching up my hem, and all hesitation, all logic falls away. The mixture of cool air and her searing fingers caressing the skin above my stockings is maddening.

I whimper against her lips, feeling an answering hunger, a fathomless appetite break open inside of me. More… I need more…

She pulls back. Eyes bright, she’s so pretty and vibrant with the thrill of chasing me—the triumph of having caught me.

“I want to break those ridiculous vows with you,” she whispers, her gaze tracing the shape of my lips.

“I want to watch you grapple with yourself to keep from screaming my name, right here and now. Lie to me, Tiss. Tell me you don’t want the same thing. ”

She might as well be reading my thoughts. Raw need rends me to pieces, making my breath ragged. A devious grin spreads across her face.

It lingers for two heartbeats before she steps back, yanking me with her.

I’m roughly thrust toward the bookshelves. My hands shoot out, bracing on two of the uprights as she sweeps my hair aside.

Her breath falls across my shoulder, forcing a quiver to my center. It’s so bold and deviant and forbidden, what we’re about to do. I hold my breath, a ball of heat pulling my belly tight.

She presses her body slowly against my back. “I think we should study,” she murmurs, her hands stroking down my sides. “Put our time here to good use.”

“Study. Good use. Right,” I sigh as she kisses my neck. Her curves crushing against me are pure sin; the drag of her teeth on my skin is ruinous. Gods help me, I hope she does ruin me. “Do you think there are books in Aritertan?” I rasp out.

“I wasn’t talking about the books, songbird.” She reaches around me, lifting the hem of my dress with one hand and tracing up my inner thigh.