Page 91 of Insolence
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.Terriblygood.
Not to mention, I’m fairly certain it was Eisha who visited me last night. I believe it washervoice 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 practicallytastethe 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.
Cordelia 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 ofsyphoning, 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.
