Page 42 of Insolence (Eisha’s Hidden Codices #1)

Itissa

A blushing dawn peeks around the edges of the curtains when I awaken.

My nostrils twitch, overly sensitive to every clue, every drifting fragrance molecule. Sex hangs heavy in the air, reeking of musk and sweat.

The smell of my favorite fried breakfast sausages bleeds through the sex fog, somehow wafting from the opposite side of the building, four floors down. That’s a first.

What I don’t smell is the soft, powdery perfume of Sadrie’s skin and hair. I’m alone in bed.

While part of me is glad she roused herself, an entirely different part craves cuddling up to her, asking how she slept, and discussing the course of our day.

But the idea is a passing fancy. A luxury we aren’t allowed.

For once, utter satisfaction and contentment fill me. The monster, I realize, is finally, blessedly silent, and I slept soundly through the night for the first time in a long while. Thank the gods.

Still naked beneath the warm covers, I stretch and roll over, giving a happy sigh. Last night is a blur in my mind, but I feel good. Terribly good.

Not to mention, I’m fairly certain it was Eisha who visited me last night. I believe it was her voice I heard at my moment of sweet crisis. Which must mean—

Was that an omen? But what else could it have been?

I think of Sadrie’s dream and Cordelia’s mirror vision, and my cheeks heat. If it was an omen, I don’t want to guess what method of Divination that means I’ll favor.

Resolving to worry about it later, I dress and groom myself. Snatching my schedule from the outside of my door, I start toward the refectory. My steps are light as I jog down the endless stairs.

The world somehow seems sharper and more focused today; colors are richer and deeper. I can practically taste the crisp winter morning on the tip of my tongue. It occurs to me that I feel more like myself than I have since before the ritual.

The thought forces me to a halt. Shaking my head at my own absurdity, I can’t help but chide myself. “You don’t know that. You have no idea who you are, Itissa.”

But it’s true; the knowledge spills forth from an abiding, unfathomable place inside of me.

Yes, you do, declares some other Itissa. She lives there, deep down in my marrow. In my bones.

C ordelia greets me in Sanctuary Hall, sliding over on the stretch of bench she’s saving. “Where’s Sadrie?” Her smoky quartz eyes dart around, searching. “Isn’t she with you?”

“I thought she was with you! I couldn’t find either of you at breakfast.”

Cordelia shakes her head. “Since I couldn’t find anyone, I decided to eat in the Archive while I did some reading.” She leans back on the bench, looking me up and down. “You seem in high spirits today.”

“I had a good night.” I shrug and squeeze past her to take my seat, praying the hot flush prickling my scalp doesn’t move to my face. “I hope Sadrie isn’t ill.”

Cordelia’s gaze clings to me. “Your arm feeling better?”

Glancing at my bandaged limb, I flex my wrist and elbow, realizing this is the first time I’ve given it any thought since last night.

“Honestly, it feels terrific. There’s no pain at all today.

” Whatever was in that ointment Elodie made, I’ll have to thank her for it.

Along with prostrating myself and imploring her forgiveness.

But, like most everything else so far today, ingratiating myself to the Second High Priestess doesn’t seem nearly as hopeless as it once did.

Strangely, Sadrie still hasn’t turned up by the time Cordelia and I reach the Learning Annex.

As usual, the priestesses take turns lecturing. Elodie paces, wearing her no-nonsense mask and her heeled, don’t-fuck-with-me boots, both of which seem appropriate, all things considered. She makes an effort to avoid me in particular. I can’t say that I blame her.

Although I only missed yesterday’s class, I’m a bit lost when we launch into an Alchemy lecture. A multi-step process, it seems life-force must first be transferred from a living being via syphoning. That life-force is then imbued into an object, or even an elixir, to give it Altered properties.

“This is how our tokens are made.” Maida writes on the board while she explains.

I gather I missed some important context about this phenomenon of syphoning , presumably covered in yesterday’s lecture. According to Cordelia, Mediation—the Practice of ritual tattooing—was discussed in depth. My anxiety spikes when we’re reminded we’ll be sitting for our first exam next week.

Before our mid-class break, Maida approaches. “Where is Sadrie today? It isn’t like her to miss class.”

Cordelia and I glance at each other.

“I think she’s sick today,” I answer honestly. “I’ll check on her after class.”

Cordelia mentions wanting to come with me to see how Sadrie’s feeling once class is finished.

“No!” I blurt out, a little too forcefully. Then add, feeling like an idiot, “It’s easier to go by myself.” But what the hell else am I supposed to say? “Sadrie wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, so I fucked her into a coma last night and haven’t seen her since?”

I think not.

Gods only know what Cordelia’s thinking. Although she looks at me strangely, she thankfully doesn’t push the topic, letting me check on Sadrie alone. Once that’s settled, I dash to the fourth floor.

I drop off Cordelia’s satchel and burst into my own rooms, not quite as short of breath as I usually am. Figuring I must finally be acclimating to the altitude, I drop my bag and stare at the small bed.

I’ll have to ask Kiera to bring me a clean sheet . I flush, resolving to push aside the foggy but insistent thoughts of our tangled limbs and writhing, naked bodies. With any luck, the starving monster that took control of me is gone for good.

Would that I could be so lucky.

I knock on Sadrie’s door next, receiving only silence in response.

“Sadrie? You in there?” My knuckles rap again. After waiting several beats, I debate with myself and finally poke my head inside. “Hello? I’m letting myself in.”

As soon as I slip inside, the soft sounds of her snoozing drift from the bedroom. Her sitting room is frigid, and I shiver. It’s evident by the embers smoldering in the firebox that she tried to light a fire, but the flames are long gone.

I squat by the hearth and stir the coals, throwing more wood on top and fanning like I’ve seen Kiera and Imogen do countless times. Flames soon erupt, licking around the logs.

Feeling the tiniest bit accomplished, I tiptoe through the curtained doorway. Sadrie is curled up in bed, covers pulled to her chin. I smile at the sight of her pretty face relaxed in repose.

She stirs when I get close, her blue eyes fluttering open.

“How are you, sweetheart? Cordelia and I have been worried.”

Once she registers it’s me, her body jolts, startling me in turn. “What time is it?” She scrubs sleep from her eyes, her scrutinizing gaze never leaving me.

“Quarter past 13:00. You didn’t come to prayers or class. Are you sick?” I sit on the end of her bed.

She yanks her feet up, fumbling to sit upright. She’s wearing a clean cotton sleeping shift but hasn’t bothered to fasten the ties at her neckline.

Bewildered, I spring to my feet again. “What’s wrong? Sweetheart, you look terrified.”

“I’m not your ‘sweetheart,’ Tiss. Just go away and leave me alone.”

What in the world? I back up. “I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong?”

She glares, clutching the gaping neck of her shift, her hair piled forward over her shoulders in snarled clouds of curls. “Come on, Tiss. Don’t be obtuse with me.”

“I’m not . I genuinely don’t know what’s wrong. If you’re angry with me, can you please just tell me why so we can talk about it?” My voice sounds small, frustration clogging my throat.

“Fine,” she huffs. “I’ll show you.” She shoves her yellow hair back.

Oh, gods. I completely forgot… The sight of it is shocking, dousing like ice water and chilling me to the bone. How could I have done that?

An ugly, purple-red bruise mars the side of her neck just above her shoulder.

Memories surface from last night, strangely fuzzy and incomplete, but through the haze emerges the baffling urge to claim her. The compulsion to mark her and make her mine for all the world to know. How could I have let myself get so carried away?

“Now do you understand?” Each word comes clipped and tipped in venom. “You were like some feral animal at the end, Tiss. You didn’t even ask! What am I supposed to say if someone sees?”

My pulse throbbing in my lips, I think of the beast… the predator inside of me that seized control of my body. The room seems to pitch sideways, and I stagger, my back hitting the wall behind me.

“It wouldn’t have been a problem if you had stopped when I told you to,” I manage to say through the panic raging in my brain.

Her expression twists with something close to revulsion, and I momentarily wonder where my friend has gone; who is this scornful stranger in her place?

“You weren’t exactly giving me a choice in the matter, were you? You were so enticing—”

“That’s no excuse!”

She shakes her head. “ Irresistible in a way that overthrew my willpower. It was unnatural, like— Like I couldn’t stop myself, all right?”

Shit . She’s got to be referring to my pheromones. My hand goes to my head while my heart threatens to punch right out of my chest.

“I don’t know what sort of dark magic you possess, but you took something from me, Tiss.”

Frustration clots in my throat, forcing me to blink away tears. “What? What did I take?”

“I was hoping you could tell me! All I know is it felt like you were draining something vital from me. Like you snatched a piece of me away.”

Draining her? I seriously wonder if I’m about to be sick all over her floor. I want to claw my skin off. I want to scream .

Her bottom lip trembles, but her features remain fierce as she says, “It was excruciating, and I was paralyzed while you finished. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move a muscle until you were done. Ever since, I’ve been half-dead with fatigue.”

Shame sluices through my veins. I think of the strange glowing tattoos and my vision, my—

My visit from the goddess. But how could something that felt so right and good in the moment turn out so horribly?

The hard plaster digs into my shoulders, and I think of the prioress and her deadly dome. The thought of abusing a power that could hurt someone makes me want to shrink into the floor and disappear. I drag my sleeve over my tear-streaked face and whisper, “Are you going to be all right?”

Sadrie jerks her shoulders. “How do I know?”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t know if I can control whatever happened last night, but I can fetch us some food, and then maybe we can discuss everything more calmly.”

“Like I said already, I need you to leave me alone .” The words are cold and uncompromising. Final. “That’s it, Tiss. No food, no more discussion. Just stay the hell away from me.”