Page 74 of Insolence
Get me the hell out of here? Fuck my brains out?I force a smile. “I don’t think so. Thank you, though.”
Cordelia tilts her head. “Hasn’t the goddess come to you at all, Tiss?”
“Not that I recall.”
“Really?” The way Sadrie’s eyebrows scrunch together leaves me feeling self-conscious.
“Maybe it’s still yet to happen. Or Eisha might appear to some of us but not others,” offers Cordelia.
“Maybe,” I say. “Or perhaps you’ve both been touched by the goddess and are destined to become high priestesses. And I am destined to gohome.”
Sadrie goes quiet at that, her posture deflated, and I wish I hadn’t blurted it out.
When we return to class, it’s a battle to stay focused.
The longer the lecture goes on, the longer I try and fail not to watch Elodie roam the room. The more the lines between reality and my racing, fervent thoughts seem to blur.
No amount of squirming offers relief from the invasive thoughts of skin against skin or soft lips skimming my body—tender and slow at first. Then hard.
Similar to waking from a dead sleep to find myself upright, drenched, and inflicting some sort of harm on myself, I have the reality-shattering impression of vertigo.
Something in my brain snaps apart. The air shimmers and sways around me.
Elodie continues lecturing. Cordelia and Sadrie continue taking notes as if this is any other Aodhsday.
Feverish warmth ferments inside of me, overcoming my ability to ignore it. Perspiration clamors up my back and under my arms, and I have to unfasten the top button of my shirt. The next time I look down, the world halts for a moment.
I blink at the outlandish words running unevenly across my notepad, feeling haunted. Feeling like an imposter in my own skin.
You belong to me and me alone. The part of you that lives inside this moment of pleasure will always be mine.
Air hisses through my teeth. Blood rises to the surface of my skin, further singeing me on top of the fire in my veins and the broiler between my legs.
Rushing to scratch out the words, my pen nib nearly rips the paper.
Chapter 22
Itissa
As soon as the cold air hits me after lunch, something shifts in my fevered brain.
The constant, low-simmering dread picking at the corners of my mind falls still. A soft sense of ease unwinds through me while I kneel between rows of winter cabbage. My garden wagon is about half-full when the gloomy sky breaks open.
The previously frigid, overcast day lights up with golden sunshine. The mountain mist begins to burn off.
I breathe a happy sigh, abandoning the head of cabbage I’ve been half-heartedly wrestling to tilt my face skyward. Tossing aside my gloves, I let out a low hum of rapture.
My internal radiator is rekindled, so I unfasten my cloak and shrug it off. For what feels like the first time since I’ve been here, I can actuallybreathe.
Giddiness flits through me.
My gaze drops to the flower greenhouse. Elodie’s figure, clad only in shirtsleeves, fitted trousers, and tall, flat-soled boots, moves at her unhurried pace. An avian-shaped lump keeps her company.
The thread quivers and vibrates between us like a telegraph coming down a wire. I’m on my feet and stumbling to the glass structure in an instant—a fish reeled in on a line.
I’m through the door and dropping into the wrought iron chair before I realize to what degree I no longer have control of my limbs.
The best part isI don’t even care.
