Page 122 of Insolence
“It keeps coming back no matter what I do,” I say, unsure what I’m referring to exactly.
“If you’d like, I can mix a borax solution for the weeds. For now, make sure to get all the rootlets out. Don’t leave any broken stems lying around.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”
“Mm-hmm. You’ve got to be vigilant. Something all-consuming like that can get wildly out of control. Once entangled somewhere, it doesn’t easily let go.” With the way she’s looking at me, I wonder whethershe’sstill talking about ground ivy. Lifting my hand to her mouth, she pauses just short of her lips. “It’ll consume everything if you let it.” Her breath caresses my skin with every word before she plants a soft kiss in the center of my palm.
I close my eyes on a sharp intake of breath.Nope. Definitely not talking about weeds anymore.
“But I have no doubt you’ll figure it out, Tiss. You’re doing an excellent job in the gardens. I know it’s a lot to manage.”
The beast inside of me bristles at her approval, at her touch and close proximity. It snaps its jaws, jerking my muscles with the power of its hunger.Shit, not this again.
“You like this?” she asks.
“What?”
“My attention. My praise,” she purrs, gently tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “Do you enjoy it?”
Heat seeps into my neck and face. “Yes.”
Drawing me nearer, she closes the last few inches between us, her cheek brushing mine as she leans in and whispers, “If you’re all right with it, I’d like to take what we started in my rooms the other night a step further.”
I think of the utter emotional closeness El and I shared, along with space in our shared auras. My whimper sounds helpless, even to me. “Blue,” I whisper.
The monster awakening in my chest stretches and groans, the rumbling force of its hunger nearly blinding. So much so that I spin my turquoise ring around in my free hand with an adjacent finger, squeezing the stone in my fist and drawing in several belly-deep breaths.
When my blood isn’t rushing quite so fiercely, I look around. Luckily, the kitchen gardens are hemmed in by other buildings, mostly blocking us from view.
“Most everyone’s inside. Don’t worry.” Elodie is leaning back, looking flushed, and rubbing her nose like it’s itching her.
“I don’t feel bad for you. You brought that on yourself,” I say.
“That I did,” she laughs. Tenderly, she places my hand in my own lap. “I came to tell you that you’re done for the day.”
I search the skyline, finding the sun only starting to sink below the horizon. “I think I lost track of time. I still need to finish up out here, light the braziers in the big greenhouses, water the herbs—”
“I’ll take care of the greenhouses. Go now. Get cleaned up. Later tonight we’ll find some privacy and practice putting your wards up.”
I get to my feet and head toward the bathhouse. Abruptly aching from the lack of her, the promise of more smolders through my blood like molten metal.
Elodie’s ruthless stare is pinning me. My every molecule hums under the attention. Heat flushes my body, bubbling beneath my skin. The black gauze overlaying my gown’s bodice, reaching to my stand-up collar and cap sleeves, seems stifling.
Mother Deirdre, the two priestesses, Cordelia, Sadrie, Ghisele, and I occupy the place of honor. We line one side of a grand table in our fancy frocks and masks, feasting on a temporary dais that’s been erected in the refectory. The other tables and benches have been arranged perpendicular to us, and I feel more on display than I otherwise might thanks to Elodie’s weighty attention.
She’s gorgeous in her svelte black velvet gown with trailing sleeves and a plunging neckline. The dramatic yet elegant mask adorning the upper part of her face is dark as obsidian and embellished with raven feathers. Her affection sweeps up the thread between us, as soft and radiant as sunlight.
Everyone in the temple complex is in attendance this evening. As tradition dictates, we’re all attired in black, white, or a combination, and wearing masks—Temple Guardsmen aside. They must still be on duty, according to the gleaming daggers holstered at their uniformed waists.
Next to me, Cordelia looks stunning in her white, form-fitting gown with its sumptuous jet beading sparkling in the candlelight and on her coordinating mask. On the prioress’ other side, Ghisele and Sadrie are equally graceful. Both have donned different styles of white gowns overlaid with sheer gauze and black lace appliques. The lace motif continues on their elaborate masks as well.
Sadrie’s hair falls down her back in a cascade of soft yellow curls. Her sapphire eyes glint brightly in the candlelight, finding me every so often. Her mouth quirks up in a smile whenever I meet them. I can't help but smile back.
There’s supposed to be some symbolism in tonight’s wearing of masks. Deirdre blathered on about “shielding our visages from the gods” while we feast and revel, and then we may “embark upon the coming year anew.” While she rambled, the other acolytes and I used long, iron candlelighters to light the various tapers around the refectory at the start of dinner.
My own mask resembles a butterfly wing on one side, while the other side is embossed with gleaming black filigree.
The clear peals of a bell ring out, startling my attention to Mother Deirdre. She rises from her chair in the center of our decorated table while silence blankets the buzzing crowd.
