Page 48 of Insolence
Exhausted and defeated, I nod and follow Sadrie to the refectory.
Breakfast passes in a blur. The dining hall is abuzz with excitement, but I’m detached. Every muscle in my body strains in an effort to keep me in place, pretending that things are normal.
Nauseated, I barely nibble my fruit and pastry. Sadrie and Cordelia busy themselves chatting away about their visions of the goddess.
Omens, they call them. In my current state, it sounds so preposterous that I have to stifle the urge to laugh. When Cordelia asks what’s wrong, I don’t trust myself to speak.
Sadrie ends up relaying most of what I told her. Cordelia glances between us after she’s caught up, wide-eyed for a moment before composing herself.
“I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. Whatever it is, we’ll get to the bottom of it,” she assures me. “I don’t want to speak another option into existence, so let’s assume she survived. Which means we need to track her down and ask her what happened. We need information.”
Information. Answers.I nod.Yes, that’s exactly what I need.
I spot Rosalie eating alone near the end of a table and rise without a word to my friends.
“Tiss?” Sadrie calls after me as I cross the vast hall.
Rosalie stares when I slide in across from her, her silver collar catching the light.
“Sorry to interrupt.” Glancing around, it appears that over half of this room’s occupants are now wearing identical thin, metallic chokers. “I was hoping you could help shed some light on a thing that’s been bothering me.”
“I’ll try my best.” She stirs her tea.
“That day Sister Kerrigan, er… pulled you away from Cara. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what happened to make her so angry?”
Rosalie inclines her head, brow puckering. “I’m not sure I follow. What day was that?”
It’s my turn to stare.What do you mean, “What day was that?”Shifting on the bench, I clear my throat and try again. “Youknow.” I lean closer. “When the two of you were inside the compost shed laughing together and, uh… moaning?”
Rosalie lets out a breath, looking at me like I’ve sprouted two more arms.
“Then Kerrigan came storming up to you?”
“Um,Tiss.” Rosalie raises her cup to her lips and blows on her tea. “That didn’t happen. I have no idea what you’re referring to. I’ve never evenbeento the compost shed. Couldn’t find it if you paid me.”
“No,” I bite the word off. “That’s not true. The very first day I was up and about, you and Cara—”
“Listen, Tiss.” She sets down her tea, her upper lip pulled back. “I’ve never spoken to Cara—I’m not completely certain I know who she is. I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken.”
My gods. What is going on?My heart kicks against my ribs. “I must have you mixed up with someone else,” I murmur while ice slithers down my spine. “So sorry to bother you.”
I’m sick of questioning my own recollection, sick of smelling burnt toast and over-brewed tea by the time we finally pack ourselves into the cloakroom and out into the overcast day.
A mass of pearly cloud cover chokes the sky, enshrouding our enclave.
There’s a flurry of activity in the courtyard when we cross to Sanctuary Hall. Sisters and handmaidens crowd the Waymark,fussing with garlands of paper flowers. The decorations swing in the chill breeze, draped over low-hanging boughs.
The semicircle of iron benches has been divided into two sections, an embroidered runner lining the aisle between them. It depicts the temple’s emblem of a stylized yew tree and a finch in flight. Coordinating liners drape each bench, their skirts skimming the cobblestones in shades of crimson and deep forest green.
I can’t stay focused on morning prayers, oranything, really. It doesn’t help that I never saw the Screamer at breakfast. She’s certainly not in Sanctuary Hall.
After prayers, we’re directed to take a seat around the ancient yew tree. Birdsong fills the air.
“Will you look at that!” exclaims a breathless Sadrie.
The three of us gaze at the enormous wrought iron birdcage that was wheeled out while we were at prayers. Resting between the tree and front row of benches, it holds dozens of sacred finches that have been rounded up from the atrium.
On the Waymark’s opposite side, a temporary raised dais has been constructed. Five carved chairs fill it, along with accent tables holding long-stemmed glasses and what looks like decanted wine.
