Page 21 of Insolence (Eisha’s Hidden Codices #1)

El

A lways.

There have always been birds for as far back as I can remember. They somehow find a way to reach me, time and again. Sometimes they even show me things.

The problem lies in decoding the message.

When I was younger, my Pop once told me, “The old ways are strong with you.” He didn’t say, “Keep it to yourself.”

He didn’t have to. By that time I was well aware how most folks don’t understand changelings. They aren’t sympathetic.

Peregrine falcons mate for life. Pop taught me that.

He taught me everything I know about birds and everything I know about foraging.

The two of us would spot all manner of wildlife out in the scrubby steppe lands surrounding Aronya Dar when I was younger.

On the hunt for ingredients for Ma’s pigments.

Several mated pairs make their home in the city proper, keeping pigeons and other nuisances under control. I often see them together, wheeling and climbing above the tiled rooftops. Tearing through the sky in blinding stoops to ambush prey.

I’ll sit with paper and charcoal, sketching them when I have a moment.

One mid-Harvestmoon morning, a peregrine is waiting for me on top of the hill at the end of our street.

It’s still early. I’m the only person on this particular stretch. The Festival of Eisha is nearing, and the day promises to be hot. I’m rushing to run an errand between spates of rain showers.

I climb the hill and stop, recognizing this particular female. It’s her size and the pattern of her speckled breast feathers that give her away. She’s half of a breeding pair who’ve made their nest in my family’s neighborhood.

Her warning call begins as soon as I reach the top. Halts me in my tracks. She’s strangely alone, lingering in the middle of the street. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she’s waiting for me—despite the chain of shrieks tearing from her throat.

There’s no mistaking them for anything other than the alarm cries they are. So I back away slowly, figuring she’s simply trying to ward me off.

Studying me with one black eye, her chattering kak becomes shriller and louder with each passing second, raising the hair on my arms. Then her cries stop.

From somewhere nearby, a neighbor’s dog barks, excited by her screeches.

We stay put, studying each other. She isn’t frightened or combative. Instead, she just stands there. Not preening. No prey at her feet. She doesn’t appear to be injured.

Only staring me down.

Understanding slowly dawns that the warning is meant for me, not against me. “You’re not trying to chase me off, are you?”

As if in confirmation, she starts up kakking again, louder and sharper than before. One black eye still trained on me.

I watch the skies. Scan the ledges where she and her mate like to perch.

“You’re all alone.” I say, through her cries. “Where is he?”

The racket stops at once. The neighbor’s dog is still complaining. Barking echoes between houses, coming from a few streets over.

“Oh, no.” A thread of horror runs through me, splintering my heart. “Is he hurt?”

She stares in silence a few moments longer before spreading her powerful wings. Climbing into the overcast sky.

I spend the rest of the morning scouring my neighborhood. Searching for her missing mate. Hoping against hope that he’s only injured somewhere.

Ultimately I fail to find him and never complete my errand. I don’t understand her message until the next morning.

Rìasday, the 13th of Emberglow

8 Days Ago

T he first sight that greets me when I open my balcony doors is the chorus of birdsong. Blinking in sleepy disbelief, all I can do is stare at the small flock of finches lined up politely along my balcony railing.

“That’s new,” I mutter. Seeing as the goddess doesn’t seem to be granting me any insight into this phenomenon, I really can’t help but wonder—

Is this… a good omen? Or a bad one?

Nighttime is my favorite time at the temple. With the likes of Deirdre and her gaggle of fawning nuns cloistered safely away, I’m free to roam where I want. Dress how I want. Let my guard down, at least a little. Now there’s a thought.

Except I can’t—not tonight.

Things were fine before. And if not fine, then tolerable. I’ve been careful these last four years. Deliberate and meticulous. Guarding my every thought and action and protecting my secrets. Even from Maida.

But I was doing just fine .

Ever since she showed up with her perfect rosebud mouth and unhinged demands, everything’s gone sideways. It’s been three days, and nothing makes sense anymore.

I’m suddenly more exposed than ever and more deeply conflicted than I ought to be. Her presence puts everything at risk. She endangers us both, and she knows it.

Well. She did.

Now all my discipline might come to nothing thanks to the whims of a woman I don’t fucking know. Outside of the fact that she’s selfish. Reckless. Thoughtless.

Incredibly fucking gorgeous .

“Fuck,” I mumble to myself, cutting around the corner of the residence. Stepping onto the lawn. I duck under empty laundry lines and take the garden path around the greenhouses. The bottle is heavy in my interior cloak pocket.

“Keep me safe.”

Her desperate words, jewel-blue eyes brimming with tears, have been running through my head endlessly.

“Promise me, Elodie. Say it.”

The unmitigated nerve of her, trapping me in this. Setting me up to fail. Setting me up to out every last secret I have.

Anger heats my blood all over again. Goddess, I really do need a drink.

“Oi! That you, priestess?” Kael’s gruff voice halts me when I step out of the cottage’s shadow. “Or should I say, your holiness?” He stoops into a comical bow, sweeping the knit cap off his wiry black hair.

“Blacksmith,” I nod. “And how are the master of the forge and his lackey tonight?”

He and Autry glance at each other, good-natured laughter erupting between them. Something relaxes incrementally inside of me. Maybe this won’t be such a pain in the ass after all. Not yet, at least.

“Was thinking we were due for one of your visits. Wasn’t I just saying?” Kael jabs an elbow at his young apprentice.

Autry nods, already moving toward the circular table with its three worn chairs near the bathhouse’s western wall. I cross the cozy alcove formed by the jagged wall of mountain flanked by cottage on one side and bathhouse on the other.

“Thought you lot could use a drink.” Pulling the stoppered glass bottle from my cloak, I hitch up my trousers, drop into the closest chair, and sigh.

It’s always warm here by the forge. Even after working hours, the still-smoldering coals chase away the worst of winter’s biting cold. My chronically low blood pressure is grateful.

“Which means you could use a drink,” chuckles Autry in the cocksure way of a twenty-year-old. But he’s not wrong.

I raise the bottle by its neck. Copper light from the embers bends through the colorless liquid. Both men guffaw when they see it’s not the usual swill.

“That what I think it is?” Kael settles into the third chair, dark eyes glued to the liquor. Like Autry, he smells of woodsmoke, molten metal, and sweat.

A mixture of odors I’ve come to associate with fleeting comfort and a degree of safety. Especially on nights like this, when I far prefer pants to skirts.

“Yep. Cook’s special pear brandy.” I grit my teeth with the strain of flipping the tension gasket stoppering the bottle’s opening. It releases with a satisfying pop . The blacksmith and his apprentice watch raptly while I take a sip, filling my mouth with glorious liquid fire.

My nonexistent blood pressure laughs at me. Likely planning to drop me the next time I get up.

“What’s the occasion?” Autry asks.

Belly burning pleasantly, I pass the bottle. “Found where she hides it in the larder.” Putting one hand to the side of my mouth, I stage whisper, “Behind the vinegar stores.”

Kael laughs again, taking a dainty sip.

“Don’t disappoint me now,” I chide. “We can’t leave evidence. You better drink up, old man.”

“Ah. Well. My head won’t thank me tomorrow.” But he guzzles more anyway. “Gods, that’s smooth, ain’t it?” He drags a broad hand across his mouth.

“Cook really outdid herself this year,” I agree. “So how are the missus and kids doing? Got word recently?”

“Oh, the usual.” He passes the bottle.

“Mmm.” Autry takes a drink, throat bobbing. He hisses appreciatively, licking his lips. “Say, that is nice.”

“How much longer you got on your contract, Kael?” I accept the bottle back.

Lifting it to my lips again, I’m careful to partially plug the opening with the tip of my tongue. Seeing as my surroundings are already going fuzzy after my first drink, I need to at least try remaining relatively clear-headed if I’m going to accomplish anything tonight.

Kael grimaces. “You ask me every so often.”

“Short memory,” I wink and tap the side of my head.

Autry giggles at my amnesia joke. I offer him a grin.

“I’m on year five of seven,” Kael sighs.

I give a low whistle. “Must be difficult being separated from your family all this time.”

“Guess that’s the one good thing about your ‘short memory,’ eh?” His bushy eyebrows rise toward his hairline. “Ain’t got nobody to miss.”

I give an agreeable grunt and hand the bottle off.

“How do you handle being away from them?” Autry ventures to Kael in the shy manner that overcomes him at times. It always gives me the sense he doesn’t ask personal questions of his mentor. Not this sort.

Not unless I’m around to feed them booze and stir up mud.

“Same as you do being separated from your loved ones, I reckon.” Kael takes a contemplative drink, holding the liquor in his mouth before swallowing.

“Keeping busy. Wages are good, so I never have to worry that they’re getting by.

” He glances at his apprentice. “But I think I’ve reached my limit. After this, I’m done.”

Autry takes the bottle back. Lifts it to his lips.

“Oh?” My spirits sink a little bit. “You're not taking out another contract?”