Bonus Scene #1: Sarya Leaves the Skola
(Adan POV) (From Chapter 2)
There are rules that must be followed, and laws, and good reasons for them. Your first duty is to the Service, not to yourself and your feelings. And if you can’t remember that, or if you don’t agree with that, then maybe you don’t belong here. The harsh words Adan had spoken to Sarya tore at his mind all night, no matter what he did to try to make them stop. Fencing practice, singing practice, wine, meditation... The thought of sex was tempting, but even though Sarya had made it very clear for years that she had no interest in him that way, the thought of finding oblivion in Vidette’s arms, or any of the other women he might call on, when Sarya was suffering through Penance felt like the worst sort of betrayal.
As he wandered from his room to grab another bottle of wine from the dining hall, he heard a weary alto voice drifting out of the Shrine. An uncultured voice, not considered suitable for training to sing in any of the Shrine choirs, husky and earthy, now roughened by hours of chanting Penance. But a True voice, strong in its power, and equally pure and true in its emotions.
Half-drunken tears welled in his eyes at the sound of her singing and the thought of her kneeling all night on the cold, hard stone floor of the Shrine, her back stinging from being lashed. And this was only the first night of a month’s worth of such nights that she would have to endure and somehow survive. He longed to go to her, to offer comfort and encouragement. But after what he’d said to her, would she even want to see him?
Probably not; his presence would just make things worse, and not just because it would be annoying and painful for her. If anyone tried to interfere with her Penance, or even looked like they were interfering, that would only get more days added to her sentence.
He would talk to her tomorrow, he decided, after she got some rest and finished the chores that were part of her punishment and might be in a mood to listen to his apology. With that settled, he continued on to the dining hall for that wine.
But in the morning, when he rose and went down for breakfast to fortify himself for the coming encounter, four of the Masters asked him if he had seen her. She hadn’t appeared for her assigned chores, and was nowhere to be found. Not in her room, nor anywhere else.
A sick feeling curdled in his stomach. His heart racing in his throat, Adan ran to her room and looked inside. Despite his many hints that he would like to be invited there, he had never been in her room. But he did’t need to have been there before to know she was gone. It was empty of all her belongings except for her two Skola-issued gray robes neatly folded atop the blanket on the cot. The battered old lute that she cherished so much was nowhere to be seen.
Master Telciu had followed him and also looked around the empty room. “Well? Any ideas?”
“Her lute’s gone. That means she’s gone.” With no money, no possessions to her name except a few pieces of clothing and the lute, and no home that she had ever spoken of, only Eshalarion the Creator knew – if even He knew – where in all of Msaka Dolna or beyond she might have gone.
“Ah. Well,” Master Telciu said. “Such is her right; she is not a prisoner here. I will go inform the other Masters.”
Master Telciu was the one Master who had seemed to have any fondness for Sarya. His casual dismissal of her disappearance grated against Adan’s nerves. He wanted to demand that they send out search parties for her. He wanted to abandon his own duties and go look for her. But Master Telciu was right; Sarya was not a prisoner here, and if she had chosen to leave of her own free will, then no one could stop her.
She must have decided Adan’s angry, thoughtless words last night, that she didn’t belong here, were the truth.
He leaned back against the wall of the tiny, empty room, seeking support as the strength drained from his legs. He slid down along the wall to crouch on the floor, staring into the room without seeing. Sarya was gone, and with her absence, it was as though the sun had also gone out.
(Adan POV) (From Chapter 2)
There are rules that must be followed, and laws, and good reasons for them. Your first duty is to the Service, not to yourself and your feelings. And if you can’t remember that, or if you don’t agree with that, then maybe you don’t belong here. The harsh words Adan had spoken to Sarya tore at his mind all night, no matter what he did to try to make them stop. Fencing practice, singing practice, wine, meditation... The thought of sex was tempting, but even though Sarya had made it very clear for years that she had no interest in him that way, the thought of finding oblivion in Vidette’s arms, or any of the other women he might call on, when Sarya was suffering through Penance felt like the worst sort of betrayal.
As he wandered from his room to grab another bottle of wine from the dining hall, he heard a weary alto voice drifting out of the Shrine. An uncultured voice, not considered suitable for training to sing in any of the Shrine choirs, husky and earthy, now roughened by hours of chanting Penance. But a True voice, strong in its power, and equally pure and true in its emotions.
Half-drunken tears welled in his eyes at the sound of her singing and the thought of her kneeling all night on the cold, hard stone floor of the Shrine, her back stinging from being lashed. And this was only the first night of a month’s worth of such nights that she would have to endure and somehow survive. He longed to go to her, to offer comfort and encouragement. But after what he’d said to her, would she even want to see him?
Probably not; his presence would just make things worse, and not just because it would be annoying and painful for her. If anyone tried to interfere with her Penance, or even looked like they were interfering, that would only get more days added to her sentence.
He would talk to her tomorrow, he decided, after she got some rest and finished the chores that were part of her punishment and might be in a mood to listen to his apology. With that settled, he continued on to the dining hall for that wine.
But in the morning, when he rose and went down for breakfast to fortify himself for the coming encounter, four of the Masters asked him if he had seen her. She hadn’t appeared for her assigned chores, and was nowhere to be found. Not in her room, nor anywhere else.
A sick feeling curdled in his stomach. His heart racing in his throat, Adan ran to her room and looked inside. Despite his many hints that he would like to be invited there, he had never been in her room. But he did’t need to have been there before to know she was gone. It was empty of all her belongings except for her two Skola-issued gray robes neatly folded atop the blanket on the cot. The battered old lute that she cherished so much was nowhere to be seen.
Master Telciu had followed him and also looked around the empty room. “Well? Any ideas?”
“Her lute’s gone. That means she’s gone.” With no money, no possessions to her name except a few pieces of clothing and the lute, and no home that she had ever spoken of, only Eshalarion the Creator knew – if even He knew – where in all of Msaka Dolna or beyond she might have gone.
“Ah. Well,” Master Telciu said. “Such is her right; she is not a prisoner here. I will go inform the other Masters.”
Master Telciu was the one Master who had seemed to have any fondness for Sarya. His casual dismissal of her disappearance grated against Adan’s nerves. He wanted to demand that they send out search parties for her. He wanted to abandon his own duties and go look for her. But Master Telciu was right; Sarya was not a prisoner here, and if she had chosen to leave of her own free will, then no one could stop her.
She must have decided Adan’s angry, thoughtless words last night, that she didn’t belong here, were the truth.
He leaned back against the wall of the tiny, empty room, seeking support as the strength drained from his legs. He slid down along the wall to crouch on the floor, staring into the room without seeing. Sarya was gone, and with her absence, it was as though the sun had also gone out.
