Page 53 of Insolence
Shocked, strangely happy, and a little confused, I risk a glance at Elodie. She looks stiffly ahead, still hellbent on ignoring me. When the ceremony is over, she cuts through the swarming crowd, heading back toward the residence without a word or a backward glance.
Chapter 15
Itissa
Once indoors again, we find various handmaidens directing everyone to new accommodations based upon our freshly awarded roles.
The betrothed girls are separated and led away somewhere beyond the atrium. Sadrie, Cordelia, and I alone are led back upstairs.
We climb all the way to the fourth floor, where our rooms are situated in a row. Mine is located almost directly in front of the shadowy hallway where the Screamer was dragged.
A shudder goes through me, and I do my best to shut out the memory.
My new room is twice the size of my last one and contains a cozy sitting area with a fully stocked bookshelf, a desk under a leaded casement window, and a fireplace with a fire already crackling away.
The sitting room is separated from the sleeping area by an open archway hung with a heavy curtain, like in Elodie’s rooms.
The bedroom is furnished with a narrow canopied bed draped in voile. A wooden trunk with wrought iron hardware rests against the near wall. A porcelain washbasin occupies the spot under the bedroom window. Against the far wall stands a wardrobe bursting with beautiful clothes.
Later in the evening, I prepare to attend the celebration.
I find a dress in my wardrobe that seems the right mix of practical elegance. I try it on to find the black bodice hugs my waist and breasts perfectly. The skirt skims below my knees, its gauzy gray overlay moving dreamily with every step. There’s a smart black capelet on the same hanger that I debate wearing at first, but I like the way the fabric drapes my shoulders and decide to keep it on.
Lilting harp music mingles with the fountain’s burble while I make my way down to the atrium. Although concern for the Screamer still tugs at the corners of my mind, a sense of gratitude and—dare I acknowledge it?—optimismfor the future has mostly replaced the earlier chaos brewing within me.
I come to an abrupt halt when I get closer to the festivities.
Betrothed women mill about, talking quietly in clusters. All of them are now clad in long black dresses with white lining the necklines and hems of their skirts and sleeves. Sheer veils cover their heads, hanging over their faces and reaching down their backs.
“Hello, songbird!” Sadrie’s voice rings out, taking me by surprise.
“Gods, Sadrie.” I clutch my chest and turn. “Why do you call me that?”
“Because you’re about as high-maintenance as those pampered finches. And it always gets your attention. I hardly need a reason beyond that,” she winks, bumping my shoulder with hers. “You ready to revel in the ‘benevolent joy of Eisha’s will’?”
“I suppose so,” I chuckle. “Where’s Cordelia?”
“Off talking to Lady Maida. Which means I’myourproblem now.” Sadrie flashes her most enchanting smile, lashes fluttering, as she slips her arm through mine.
She’s stunning in her burgundy lace dress. The color contrasts perfectly with her yellow-blonde curls, the fitted bodice and full, knee-length skirt accentuating her wickedly delightful curves in a way that flushes me with heat.
Tin lamps hang from the branches of potted trees, casting their charming glow as we stroll around the room together. The moon is rising but not yet visible through the glass dome. Its otherworldly light pours through, silvering leaves and blossoms and the fountain’s rippling water.
If not for the horde of women dressed like phantasms, the atmosphere might be downright charming. I’m trying to ignore it, but several of them glance at us, whispering as we make our rounds.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say they’re deliberately keeping out of our way,” I say.
“Maybe they’ve been told to keep their distance,” murmurs Sadrie. “Didn’t we hear something about the betrothed and acolytes not mixing much?”
I shrug, bewildered. “Oh, look up there!” I point toward the dome, where a dozen finches rise into the air, fluttering and quarreling.
“A lot of them seem to have found their way back indoors, haven’t they?” Cordelia’s voice comes from behind us.
We turn, and Sadrie breaks into adorable laughter at the plump finch perched on Cordelia’s outstretched hand. Cordelia herself is radiant in tones of smokey taupe and deep purple that bring out her eyes.
“They’re practically pets at this point,” I say, although I’m sure Elodie would disagree. “Personally, I wouldn’t be forfeitingmyfreedom, but I’m not a sacred bird.”
At that, Sadrie’s hand snakes around me to discreetly squeeze my hip. Delight zings through me, and I turn to meet her sidelong grin. Reminded of her cute pet name for me, my heart flutters.
