Insolence a dark ff roma.., p.28
Insolence: A Dark FF+ Romantasy, page 28
“I know there’s more, but I can’t—” I shake my head, dull pain springing to life behind my eyes. “It’s gone now.”
“Killer of Máiréad,” he provides. “Maker of Changelings. Giver of Magic.”
The gears in my mind align and click. “That’s it! But why take it away to begin with?”
“Because that’s precisely what the ritual is designed to do.”
A chill runs down my spine. “Do what?”
“Target all knowledge of changelings, erasing everything you used to know. About demuns especially. Any other knowledge linked in your mind with the existence of changelings, including awareness of your own attraction to women, was also eliminated.”
Because changelings are always wasted women. But the reverse isn’t necessarily true.
“Thanks to the ritual, you no longer remember Máiréad, the Dead God. Do you feel like getting a little further ahead of your classmates today?”
“Sure,” I smile, feeling very doted upon all of a sudden.
“Máiréad was the First Divinity. The Old One,” El starts, folding his arms over his knees. “She existed in the Time Before Time Itself. She was the creator of the universe and every element in it. Maker of light and bringer of darkness. She fashioned this and the other planets and gave them their moons. Divided the sky from the oceans. Made the Netherworld and the Great Hereafter on parallel planes. Finally, tired of being alone in the vastness of time and space, she brought the New Gods into being.”
I’m riveted by the smooth cadence of his voice, the concentration creasing between his eyebrows.
“Among them, only Eisha feared Máiréad’s infinite power and the fact that she could unmake everything. Including the New Gods themselves, if she so wished. So. Eisha destroyed her.”
“Mother of Destruction.” I say it again as everything takes on a strange new clarity.
“And regeneration,” he adds. “After Máiréad was killed, her essence collapsed into a vortex of seething chaos. Eisha absorbed that raw power. Untrusting of herself and the New Gods to wield it without corruption, she fragmented it.
“From this unfiltered chaos she distilled matter and magic. She created two beings: demuns from pure magic mixed with the chaos that remained. Mages from matter imbued with magic, giving us the ability to manipulate life-force. Both of these beings were created as women, in Eisha’s image.”
I can’t help squawking at the blatant hypocrisy. “But why wouldn’t the prioress want us to retain that information?”
“The prioress doesn’t acknowledge the Dead God, Tiss. Neither do the patriarchs. For that matter, I’d say the vast majority of people don’t anymore.” El shakes his head. “Aodh is given all the credit for creating natural humans out of the matter that remained when Eisha had finished her work. There exists a growing faction of folks who consider him creator of the universe, not Máiréad.”
Indignation on the Dead God’s behalf courses through me. Even though it’s just a story, a myth, I prickle at the injustice.
“To most people, changelings are nothing more than mistakes of nature. Aberrations. We keep to ourselves as best we can. Try not to step out of line. We’re ignored until we become a nuisance. Create problems.”
“By breaking Inviolable Laws.” A shiver wracks me, and I huddle deeper into my cloak. “Then we’re sent here.”
“Most of the time, yes. Especially in the case of demuns. Too often it doesn’t even take breaking the law. For us mages, it's sometimes nothing more criminal than being odd. Knowing things before they happen and the like. In far too many cases—for demuns and mages alike—it can merely be a matter of pissing off the wrong people.”
“What people?”
“Husbands. Fathers. A highborn married woman might be sent here if she’s caught having an affair with another woman. Or her lover might, for having the audacity to engage her.” He glances away, and I have to strain to hear his next words: “Set an example for others. That sort of thing.”
Nausea rises at the extent of it, at the insidious power this temple’s existence holds. “El, that’s horrible.”
“That’s reality. You knew all of this before. You and every other woman in the realm. And it gets worse.”
My head whips around. “How does it get worse?”
“You asked about dark magic.” He unbuttons his shirt sleeves, and I watch as he slowly rolls them up his forearms, his skin glowing burnished gold in the lamplight. “We haven’t discussed this in class yet, but there’s often a component of pain involved in using magic.”
My neck snaps back. “There is?”
“Mm-hmm. Take Mediation, for instance.”
Ritual tattooing.
“It’s painful,” he shrugs. “When done by a high priestess, it’s also a route to commune directly with the gods, to implore their blessings. Of course, Alchemy and Conjuration require the use of syphoned life-force.”
We both stare at the stone goddess, my stomach for some reason doing a somersault. “What is syphoning, El?” I finally ask, afraid to raise my voice above a murmur.
“Syphoning is a step beyond mere manipulation.” He gives a sigh. “While manipulation is a bit of a broad term, to syphon life-force means to cleave it from a person’s soul and extract it from their physical body. There’s inherent violence in it. It must be accomplished using pain.”
My mouth runs dry. Is that what I did to Sadrie? Did I syphon her? I can’t help but wonder. She did say that whatever I did was “excruciating.” Gods, and I bit her hard enough to leave that horrid bruise.
He looks at me, his tone grave: “In regard to light magic versus dark, the distinguishing factor is consent, Tiss. It’s crucial that the person getting tattooed or syphoned gives their consent. If they don’t enter into it willingly—don’t remain willing throughout—we classify that as dark. Sadly, dark magic is considerably more potent than the light kind. Its temptation proves too alluring for some mages.”
“Ah.” It’s the only thing I can think to say, sensing there’s more to come.
“As for the ritual, it’s a procedure that amounts to torture we’re better off not remembering. Mixed with poisoning.”
“Torture! Poisoning?” I spit the words, appalled.
“The prioress is a proficient alchemist and an expert poison maker. The ritual is… complex. During it, Deirdre and her nuns syphon a great deal of life-force without consent while administering the targeted poison Deirdre concocts. The result is partial amnesia. Complete elimination of prior knowledge of changelings and anything remotely associated with them on an individual basis.”
“All right.” I feel sick. My palms are clammy.
“Every year, Deirdre uses some of the life-force she and her nuns syphon during the ritual to conjure the dome over the temple. Preventing anyone from leaving.”
“Because this is a prison.”
“Right. A prison for demuns and a sort of rehabilitation center for mages. She partners with the Five, seeking to instruct us in a very specific skillset so she can sell us off as seers to the high houses.”
“Divination.”
“That’s the one. And she does it all in Eisha’s name.” He gives a scornful huff. “The Five, of course, eat it up. But it’s blasphemy of the highest degree. I’ve studied the oldest of the codices—Eisha’s ancient texts. At least the ones we keep down there, at the bottom. Safe from Deirdre’s sacrilege. And Eisha, above all else, is balanced.
“There’s no balance in the twisted things that go on at this temple, Tiss.” He regards the looming statue as tears seep onto the rims of his eyes. “Eisha created mages with one hand and demuns with the other. There is no good or evil in that creation. As far as I’m concerned, both are living beings. Both beings simply are.”
He thumbs away his unshed tears, tipping back his head to admire the monolith goddess. “This sanctum was hollowed out in her honor over the course of centuries. High priestesses come here in secret to remember the truth. To pass it on beneath the prioress’s nose.” He sighs and looks at me, seeming to shake himself into a different mood.
“Suffice it to say,” he rises to his feet, “you won’t hear any of that from Deirdre or the sisters. Technically, I’m not supposed to know about it. Neither are you.” He extends both hands to help me up. “So. Do me a favor and keep it to yourself.”
Face-to-face with him now, I incline my head, flashing my most captivating smile. “Keep what to myself?”
“Mm.” His gaze flicks over me, brimming with approval and something else—something with a sharper, hungrier edge. “Good answer.”
My body flushes. After the dark things he just imparted, his praise is far more exciting than it has any right to be.
“Come on. It’s getting late. Let’s get you back.”
Chapter 35
Itissa
I’ve barely been back in my rooms for ten minutes before a knock lands on my door.
I open it to find Sadrie pressing her lips together and digging her toe into the floor.
“Are you lost? Cordelia’s room is over there,” I say, pointing two doors down. “Same place as it always is.”
“Tiss,” her face crumbles, her eyebrows pinching together, “I was hoping we could talk about what happened.”
I cross my arms, as good as a slab of stone blocking my doorway. “Oh, you mean when you ignored my ‘stop’ and blamed me for it?”
“I— Yes.” She glances down the walkway in both directions. “Do you think I could come in?”
“I thought you didn’t want to be near me.”
“I was scared before. I needed time to sort through it all. What happened that night… it was bizarre,” she whispers. “You said things to me, you know. When you, um, finished.”
For gods’ sakes. I stand aside, avoiding her gaze as she brushes past me.
“I didn’t say anything, Sadrie.” I follow her in and shut the door. “Not at that particular moment.”
“You did, though.” Her eyes dart around my sitting room before landing on me. “You told me I was yours. You said I belonged to you, but your lips weren’t moving. I heard your words just the same, inside my head. It was confusing, to say the least.”
Confusing. Right. Terrific. I fall back against the door, my breath coming in short bursts. I blink like an idiot, blindsided and remembering the fervent urges that came over me.
The yearning to claim her and mark her. Mine, I thought as my teeth clamped down on the crook of her neck. Mine.
Ice slithering down my spine, I wonder if that ugly bruise I gave her has faded yet. Likely not, seeing as she still wears high collars or kerchiefs around her neck every day. The same way I wear long sleeves to hide my miraculously healed arm.
“Tiss?” She’s standing too close when my head snaps up.
“All this time you’ve been avoiding me like I’m contagious,” I snap. “And now, all of a sudden, you want to talk again like nothing happened. And I suppose I’m meant to play along. Pretend everything’s going to be fine because you’re paying me attention again, is that it?” I clutch my chest, feeling like something’s shattered inside of me. “Gods, I barely know you. Why does it feel like you broke my heart?”
Mouth trembling, she murmurs, “I’m so sorry, Tiss.”
“It doesn’t work like that. I can’t trust you anymore, and it feels like I’ve lost a lover and my very best friend.” I push past her, tears lancing behind my eyes. “It’s more than you giving me the silent treatment. You violated me, Sadrie,” I say, whirling on her. “I don’t care how irresistible you thought I was. You ignored my no and took what you wanted anyway.”
“Gods.” She clamps her fingers over her mouth, tears breaking free.
“I told you to stop. It shouldn’t have gone further than that. I wouldn’t have taken anything from you if you had respected that.”
“But I thought you enjoyed it,” she whispers through her fingers.
Gaahhh! Fire licks up my body, starting at my feet. “It doesn’t matter that I enjoyed it! An orgasm is not consent, and neither was my claiming you when you gave me literally no other choice.” The word slips out—claiming—before I can consider it. “Only consent is consent,” I spit, remembering my conversation with Elodie. “It should be enthusiastic and can be revoked at any time.”
Giving a choked sob, she backs up at my explosion, more tears washing her unfocused eyes. “You’re right. I didn’t realize.” She slides down the wall. “Gods, I’m horrible.”
Giving a low, guttural roar, I spin away, hands buried in my hair. That hideous, beastly anger is choking me again, clawing through me, cleaving me into unrecognizable fragments.
An image of the letter opener lodged in Elodie’s shoulder flashes through my mind, blood seeping into her shirt. It’s enough to jar me back from letting the monstrous outrage sweep me up entirely.
“Tiss”—my name comes softly, followed by shuddering gasps as Sadrie tries to force the next words past her sobs—“it k-kills me that I hurt you like that. I wouldn’t blame you if you never trusted me again.”
Nausea unspools through me. I drag in a bellyful of air. Breathe, Tiss. Fucking breathe.
But this room is suffocatingly small.
“I’m so ashamed that I’ve been ignoring you. I was frightened by what happened and got overwhelmed. Now I wish I’d talked to you about it—that’s what I came to say,” she snivels while I cross to the window. “But I’m glad you said the rest of it, as hard as it was to hear. I… didn’t realize how bad I was that night.”
I reach past my desk to unlatch the windowpane, throwing it open.
“Afterward, I was so wrapped up in my shock and fear, I wasn’t thinking about how everything affected you. Thinking back on it, I hate that I… I forced myself on you. I could just be sick.”
“Get in line,” I mutter between gulps of bracing air. “For someone so adamant about protecting me from Elodie, of all people, you wasted no time hurting me worse than she ever did.”
I’m barely clinging to my self-control, but the smothering anger is loosening its hold over me. It no longer feels like my temper is raking me over blistering coals.
“You’re right,” she says pathetically. “There was never any excuse for continuing. I was only thinking of what I wanted, and you deserved so much better.”
At her words, my righteous anger splinters into chunks that begin to crumble away. Part of me is suddenly scrambling to hang onto them, and I snap, “Good of you to acknowledge it. Took you long enough.”
“Oh, Tiss. You don’t have to forgive me, but please just know I understand how wrong it was now. If I could change what I did, I would. I just— I can’t figure out what happened. It was as if I was under some sort of spell that night. I lost control, and it was awful of me.” Her sobs get bigger.
Light-headed from the heavy breathing with my raging temper somewhat subdued, I can’t help thinking she sounds like I did when I was apologizing my ass off to Elodie.
Gods be damned. My teeth gritting, fingertips digging into the chair back, I take another centering breath before I turn to her. “You shouldn’t have pushed me, Sadrie, but it’s complicated. There’s a reason you couldn’t control yourself.”
Huddled against my wall with her arms wrapped around her up-drawn knees, she lifts her head. “What reason?” Her voice is so small, so terribly fragile, that I’m moving toward her before I can stop myself.
How can part of me want to comfort her, of all things, when I’m still so angry and hurt and disappointed?
“When I’m strongly aroused,” I start, then drive myself to spit out the rest: “I give off chemical signals. Pheromones.”
“Pheromones?” she repeats. “Like how animals do?”
I sigh and sink to the floor in front of her. “Some women give them off too. Apparently, I’m one of them, and they seem to make me irresistible at times.” I tuck my feet under me, my emotions hovering between shame and indignation. “Arousal isn’t consent, but—”
“I know,” she nods, her eyes bloodshot and puffy. “I’m so sorry.”
“—but I should have told you about my pheromones beforehand so that you”—gods, I’m going to cry, too, I think, as the tears well up again—“so that you would have known what you were coming up against. You might have been able to restrain yourself better if you were aware.” A sob cracks my chest, and my hands go to my face.
“Damn it,” I whisper, the depth and breadth of how deeply I might also have blundered things hitting me full force. “I should have given you the information you needed. It might have informed your decisions.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that I should have stopped,” she sniffles, her voice ragged from crying. “But that does explain things a bit.”
“I didn’t know the effect they’d have on you. Not like that… I’m only recently realizing how dangerous I am. Elodie told me I’m powerful.”
“I should say so,” snorts Sadrie wetly, blotting the tears from her cheeks with the backs of her hands.
“More powerful than the rest of you combined, it seems.”
“I believe it.” Sadrie shakes her head before letting it fall back on the plaster. Both arms are slung forward, wrists propped on her raised knees. “Gods, songbird, are we going to be able to get through this?”
“I don’t know,” I say, honestly. “I need time. And to go very slowly with you from here on out.”
“Absolutely,” she nods. “Whatever you need. But I want you to know that you’re part of the reason I feel like I belong here, Tiss. I’ve been so lost without you. It took me until yesterday to realize how empty I’ve felt ever since it happened.”
I’ve felt empty too. Warmth surges in my chest, perplexing but not unwelcome. I don’t know yet what the future holds, but a part of me wants to start over with her.
Well, want might be a strong word. But part of me is willing, at least.
“Ghisele said she caught you and Lady Elodie having lunch in the flower greenhouse a few weeks ago. And I saw you walking together from the Orrery Tower just now. Seems like you two have been spending time together lately.”
