The Fledgling Returns

Ashlyn shrugged. She would not admit how much his behavior was hurting her feelings. And yet her mood was sinking ever further into a numb melancholy.

"It wasn't," Ehren reiterated. "You deserve better."

The affection in his eyes was somewhat comforting, yet somehow equally discomforting.

Before she knew what was happening, her other arm was in his grasp as well and his lips were moving toward hers. She turned her face, accepting his kiss on her cheek.

"Thanks," she said dismissively, slipping away for the doorway.

She retreated to the same corner she had claimed when Myron first exposed her to thieving. She did not bother with any devices to aid meditation; she simply brought her knees to her chest and huddled against the cool wall of darkening grey stone.

After a short while, Caelir stopped by. He lit a couple candles for her, squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, and returned to the others.

Larith visited her some time after that. She sat down next to Ashlyn, wordlessly at first, staring keenly into the flame of one of the candles.

"We're all pawns," she offered eventually. "Players like priests and individuals like Myron and even Ehren run the game, and we're among the ones they play with. Sometimes we play important roles; sometimes we don't. But we're still pawns. We don't decide what to pursue, even if what we truly want is within our reach supposing we only try to reach it."