Page 174 of Insolence
“You’ve been here damn near fifteen years, Maida.”
“Thirteen, El.”
“Fine. But you’re still the closest thing I have to an expert on bizarre magical phenomena. So. Any theories?”
“Ha! If that’s the case, you’re out of luck.” She takes a casual sip. But the creases on her forehead deepen.
That’s not a no.I drum my fingers on the table. “Feel free to chime in any time. I’m notpanickingor anything.”
“Tiss is ademun,” she huffs. Peevishly squares her shoulders. “Poisons and dark magic might work differently on her compared to us boring humans. And maybe there’s more to Deirdre keeping her little pets sedated. Have you considered that?”
Wait. Does that mean—
A series of sharp raps rattles Maida’s door. My friend rises to answer it, looking nearly as annoyed as I feel.
“Apologies, Lady Maida, but is the Second High Priestess in your company?” Viv's voice invades from the hallway. “Or are you apprised of her whereabouts?”
What the hell does that shrew want?
“Are you in my company, Second High Priestess?” Maida drops into her chair again.
I cross to the open door. “To what do I owe the profound and unexpected pleasure, dear Sister?”
Maida mutters wryly into her mug.
Viv’s pale eyes drift down my body, judgment etched on her face. “If it’s not aninconvenience, your holiness, the prioress has need of you. Immediately.” Without waiting for a reply, Viv turns and strides away.
I look to Maida, bewildered.
“You’re welcome.” She waggles her fingers in farewell. “Enjoy!”
Viv is so far ahead, I jog to catch up. With her rod-straight spine and stiff movements, she walks like a woman twice her age. Like Ailen.
We enter a concealed passageway off the atrium with the help of her brass keyring. Descending below ground level, we pass the floor that serves as living quarters for the guardsmen.
Cots line the walls. A communal dining table occupies its center, complete with shoddy stools. The place reminds me of an empty barracks and is about as depressing.
We descend another level. Arrive at a barrier of twisting, curling wrought iron.
I wait while Viv fumbles with her keyring. Shoves the wrong key in after the correct one doesn’t work. Switches back to the first key when that fails. Grumbles and smacks the gate with her free hand when it sticks.
Finally, the lock pops and the gate swings free on squealing hinges. We cross into the dim grotto where the betrothed reside. Beneath our feet lies the stagnant den where Deirdre carries out her twisted “ritual.”
I wait while Viv repeats the process, ensuring the elaborate enclosure is secured before taking off again. “Come on,” she snaps.
In my four years at the temple, I’ve only been down here one other time. The same dread seeps through me now as it did then.
The ceiling is low enough to feel claustrophobic. Wall-mounted gas lamps emit soft amber light. Rows of open doorways line each of the perimeter walls.
The betrothed aren’t permitted the luxury of doors or even curtains. Their sleeping quarters are open for all to see. Each girl has been assigned a room barely larger than a closet with a bed, a bureau, and a washbasin. Temple Guardsmen stand at attention around the perimeter, stationed between rooms.
The armed men watch in silence as Viv leads me past an indoor pond. Pleasant splashing issues from a quaint stone waterfall, breaking up the otherwise eerie silence. Potted plants peek from between plush furniture surrounding the pool.
The serenity is lost on the room’s occupants.
Eisha’s betrothed lounge around like unfeeling statues. Their empty eyes and blank expressions fix on nothing, reminding meof posed dolls. One girl is perched on the pond’s edge, feet in the water. The blank look on her face sends a tremor through me.
I don’t want to imagine the alcohol-fueled, blood-sucking orgy that occurred here last night.
