Page 23 of Insolence (Eisha’s Hidden Codices #1)

Itissa

I lose track of how long I sit, paralyzed with fear and disgust.

The terror of it surges in my mind, mirroring the panic tearing at the edges of my heart. The Screamer’s horrified face and bloodcurdling shrieks confront me every time I blink.

At some point I decide I’d rather take my chances with no money, memories, or identity in the outside world than spend another minute in this hellhole. And I’m not leaving without Sadrie.

I’m instantly tearing around my room, hurriedly preparing to leave and berating myself for wasting so much time panicking.

We’ll need to be cautious, sticking to shadows and watching where we’re going, but we might be able to pull off sneaking out at this early hour.

How do we distract the guardsmen at the Entrance Arch? I pause to rack my brain. Realizing we can hide and wait for the sun to come up, I grab my hand mirror.

A small fire would surely send them running. Then we can leave.

I slip it into my cloak’s interior pocket before wrestling on a pair of sturdy wool socks and lacing up my heavy boots. Cracking the door a little, I scan for any patrolling sisters.

Gods, we need to hurry. Through the dome, the sky is already lightening when I slip onto the walkway. I descend to the second floor, my heart thudding in my throat.

Trembling from head to toe, I count the doors to Sadrie’s room.

It swings open when I’m an arm’s length away, scaring me so badly I give a hoarse shriek.

She yelps in shock. “Tiss? What are you—?”

“Shhh,” I hiss, pushing her back inside. I let go of her once we’re safely in her room, pulling the door closed and leaning against it.

“You’re shaking . Did something happen, songbird?” All sweetness and concern, she cradles my face in her hands.

The warmth of her skin soothes me just enough to get out what I saw—what happened to the Screamer. She walks away when I’m finished, muttering something and looking as perplexed as I am panicky.

She turns. “Why would Kerrigan do such a thing?”

“Hell if I know! This is a horrible place, Sadrie. I’ve been trying to tell you. Now, put on some socks and grab your heavy boots. We’re leaving right this second.”

She drops onto her bed. “Tiss. I can’t .” Her face crumbles, shoulders slumping.

“Didn’t think I’d have to talk you into this.” I kneel on the floor at her feet, taking her hands in mine. “We can’t dawdle any more, sweetheart. Prayers start in an hour, tops.”

“Forty-five minutes,” she mumbles.

Terrific . I get to my feet, head reeling, casting about her room. “Where do you keep— Oh.” I spot the dresser beneath her window.

Her sigh is heavy. “I can’t leave, Tiss.”

“Of course you can.” I’m tearing her drawers open and slamming them shut. “Just get up and leave. You won’t be able to soon enough, so I’d suggest getting your perky little ass into gear.”

“I’m trying to tell you I belong here,” she says.

“What?” Facing her now, the dread within me spirals and eddies.

“You know how Cordelia told us the goddess came to her in a… a vision?”

“Oh, no,” I groan, plopping down on the bed next to her. “Not you, too.”

“Tiss, please. Eisha came to me in a dream. Just now, before I woke up. I saw—” she falters, glancing around the cozy room.

“I saw what Cordelia saw. It looked like hazy white light. I felt the most profound sense of love and joy , surrounding me and filling me up. I can’t explain how, but I knew the light was her.

Then I heard her voice.” She grabs my hand, sitting up straighter. “She spoke to me.”

Bewildered, my heart deflated, I shake my head. “What did she say?”

“I’m hers. I belong to her.” Sadrie’s expression goes soft and distant.

“She told me she has plans for me—a purpose . When it’s time for the lottery, I’m going to draw a white sphere.

So you see, Tiss,” she clutches my hand.

Eyebrows rising on the inside corners, she’s practically pleading when she says, “I can’t leave the temple.

I don’t want to. While I hear you, and I’m trying to understand, I don’t think you should, either. ”

“Why on earth not? I haven’t had one of these goddess visions!” Frustration climbs up my throat, scraping behind my eyes. “I’m scared, Sadrie.”

“I know.” She pulls me into her. “I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. And I know you don’t believe me right now, but it’s all going to work out in the end—I can feel it.”

The tears crest as soon as her arms go around me.

Voice gentle, hand in my hair, she asks, “Didn’t you say this Screamer girl was trying to run?”

“Yeah.”

“Then don’t run. Do the opposite of what she did.”

That… makes a maddening amount of sense. “What about Cara and Rosalie?”

“What about them? You didn’t see what happened to provoke Sister Kerrigan.” She touches her chest. “But I know things will turn out all right. I can feel it, intuitively. Now let’s get something to eat. You’ll probably feel better with something in your stomach.”

I pull away, blotting my tears. Still far from convinced, I’ve run out of steam to argue. Realistically, it’s too late to run anyway. By now, the courtyard will be crawling with sisters and handmaidens, especially since they intend to hold the lottery at the Waymark.

Exhausted and defeated, I nod and follow Sadrie to the refectory.

B reakfast passes in a blur. The dining hall is abuzz with excitement, but I’m detached. Every muscle in my body strains in an effort to keep me in place, pretending that things are normal.

Nauseated, I barely nibble my fruit and pastry. Sadrie and Cordelia busy themselves chatting away about their visions of the goddess.

Omens , they call them. In my current state, it sounds so preposterous that I have to stifle the urge to laugh. When Cordelia asks what’s wrong, I don’t trust myself to speak.

Sadrie ends up relaying most of what I told her. Cordelia glances between us after she’s caught up, wide-eyed for a moment before composing herself.

“I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. Whatever it is, we’ll get to the bottom of it,” she assures me. “I don’t want to speak another option into existence, so let’s assume she survived. Which means we need to track her down and ask her what happened. We need information.”

Information. Answers. I nod. Yes, that’s exactly what I need .

I spot Rosalie eating alone near the end of a table and rise without a word to my friends.

“Tiss?” Sadrie calls after me as I cross the vast hall.

Rosalie stares when I slide in across from her, her silver collar catching the light.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Glancing around, it appears that over half of this room’s occupants are now wearing identical thin, metallic chokers. “I was hoping you could help shed some light on a thing that’s been bothering me.”

“I’ll try my best.” She stirs her tea.

“That day Sister Kerrigan, er… pulled you away from Cara. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what happened to make her so angry?”

Rosalie inclines her head, brow puckering. “I’m not sure I follow. What day was that?”

It’s my turn to stare. What do you mean, “What day was that?” Shifting on the bench, I clear my throat and try again. “You know .” I lean closer. “When the two of you were inside the compost shed laughing together and, uh… moaning?”

Rosalie lets out a breath, looking at me like I’ve sprouted two more arms.

“Then Kerrigan came storming up to you?”

“Um, Tiss .” Rosalie raises her cup to her lips and blows on her tea. “That didn’t happen. I have no idea what you’re referring to. I’ve never even been to the compost shed. Couldn’t find it if you paid me.”

“ No ,” I bite the word off. “That’s not true. The very first day I was up and about, you and Cara—”

“Listen, Tiss.” She sets down her tea, her upper lip pulled back. “I’ve never spoken to Cara—I’m not completely certain I know who she is. I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken.”

My gods. What is going on? My heart kicks against my ribs. “I must have you mixed up with someone else,” I murmur while ice slithers down my spine. “So sorry to bother you.”

I ’m sick of questioning my own recollection, sick of smelling burnt toast and over-brewed tea by the time we finally pack ourselves into the cloakroom and out into the overcast day.

A mass of pearly cloud cover chokes the sky, enshrouding our enclave.

There’s a flurry of activity in the courtyard when we cross to Sanctuary Hall. Sisters and handmaidens crowd the Waymark, fussing with garlands of paper flowers. The decorations swing in the chill breeze, draped over low-hanging boughs.

The semicircle of iron benches has been divided into two sections, an embroidered runner lining the aisle between them.

It depicts the temple’s emblem of a stylized yew tree and a finch in flight.

Coordinating liners drape each bench, their skirts skimming the cobblestones in shades of crimson and deep forest green.

I can’t stay focused on morning prayers, or anything , really. It doesn’t help that I never saw the Screamer at breakfast. She’s certainly not in Sanctuary Hall.

After prayers, we’re directed to take a seat around the ancient yew tree. Birdsong fills the air.

“Will you look at that!” exclaims a breathless Sadrie.

The three of us gaze at the enormous wrought iron birdcage that was wheeled out while we were at prayers. Resting between the tree and front row of benches, it holds dozens of sacred finches that have been rounded up from the atrium.

On the Waymark’s opposite side, a temporary raised dais has been constructed. Five carved chairs fill it, along with accent tables holding long-stemmed glasses and what looks like decanted wine.

“The Five will be attending today.” I state the obvious and immediately feel like an idiot. It feels as if a week has passed since yesterday’s class.

“Seems like quite the to-do,” nods Cordelia.

The benches slowly fill up, the air buzzing with chatter.