Page 147 of Insolence
Delia ushers me toward the Gallery with urgency. My heart hammers in my chest the whole walk. Banners hanging between the portico columns snap and sigh with the wind, their edges ragged and in need of mending.
We climb the short row of steps.
“Ah, Lady Elodie. At last.” Deirdre meets us inside the vestibule.
Goddess. It really is her.Wrenching behind my navel comes on so strong I nearly cry out.
My hand goes to my abdomen. Her pull is so strong from the moment I step inside the building, I don’t know how I didn’t feel it outdoors.
“Is everything all right?” I fight to keep my voice measured. My breathing controlled.
“Lady Madoc insists on speaking to you directly, it seems.” Deirdre studies me with new appreciation. “I didn’t know you had such high associations.”
“Me neither, your reverence.”
She turns, escorting me down the center of the main hall.
The Gallery of the Goddess yawns around us, dim and dusty. Urns sit empty. Braziers are cold. The long runner is caked with dried leaves and other detritus dragged in from outside.
Daylight pours through an uncovered skylight. Dazzles me to momentary blindness as we pass through it. My thoughts flit to the poor dead kestrel.
The wrenching has become teeth and claws, ripping and prising my insides toward the enormous altar. The closer I get, the stronger her force, until I’m nauseous with our proximity.
My eyes adjust, Eisha’s soaring statue coming slowly into focus. Withered yew branch in one hand, stone finch in the other, the marble figure towers to the angled ceiling. The goddess’s proud face is obscured by shadow.
Usually it’s Eisha’s presence that fills this building. Today, it’s Itissa of Clan Madoc.
Although I’ve been told she’s here, although I’ve beenfeelingher, it’s a whole different thing beholding her in the flesh. Her gasp when she sees me is almost imperceptible.
That’s when it sharpens.Fear.
It’s rushing at me. Smothering me. It isn’t mine, but it’s mingling with the dread that I can’t stave off any longer to consume me.
What the hell are you playing at, Tiss?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Of all the impetuous, moronic,idioticthings to fucking do,” I fume to nobody on my way across the deserted Gallery an hour later.
I’m going to kill her. I’m going to get down there somehow, find her, and put her out of her gods-be-damned misery.
I’m hunting Deirdre down after that. Grabbing her by the neck and throwing her over the side of this miserable mountain.Then I’m going to set this whole bloody place alight with myself locked inside.
I burst onto the portico, the door crashing open. Behind me, the finches shriek in surprise. The air surrounding the statue shudders with the wild flap of wings before the door slams, cutting the ruckus.
My skin tingling, ice and fire vie for dominance in my veins. Panic buzzes between my ears while the world blinks in and out. I’m suddenly not getting enough oxygen.
I need Maida. Now.Or I’m going to commit a series of increasingly violent crimes.
Bibi’s riding on my shoulder, and my system is much more regulated when I arrive at my friend’s door.
My shoulder is a cramped space for an adult raven. It’s difficult for her to balance on such a narrow perch. She’s hardly ridden there since her fledgling days.
But sensing my distress, my sweet bird spotted my trek across the courtyard. Decided it was shoulder or bust. That’s where she’s going to be, and she’s not budging.
She slowed me down in my blind fury. Forced me to breathe properly. To try and feel my fingers and toes again.Good bird.
She gives an amiable croak when I knock on Maida’s door.
