• Adele’s mood had darkened considerably with Guildhelm's patronizing pat on her arm. Damn him. Apparently her concerns weren't worth an actual response.

    Her lips were already tightened, now they turned and twisted into a deeper frown and she lost interest in watching for disloyalty among the small group. She turned her head away from him, silent. Reconnaissance mission or not, abusing such an innocent celebration is wrong.

    She ignored him pointedly, making no move to acknowledge his request that she use her Sight. Adele was tired of exerting herself uselessly to please him. She was starting to wonder if catching that traitor had been a fluke: nothing had come to her lately besides fragmented, barely comprehensible nonsense visions. Most of what she’d been able to understand seemed to be of her old temple and that was hardly relevant. Even if she did miss it more than anything in the world right now.

    Her hardened eyes went soft at the thought. It had not been a fluke. She’d seen Guildhelm enough in her mind before he’d come to take her, she had almost been unsurprised when he’d appeared out of nowhere. He had already done so every day of her life.

    She bit her tongue to force down the anger she knew would be evident on her face. What right did this man think he had to steal a little bit of her mind every day, then steal her away forever? Her frustration grew. No, she certainly did not let herself look at him. The old wooden floor became a fascinating, intriguing work of art before her eyes. Far more interesting than him. Damn him.

    Instead, she sat very still, hoping he’d forget about her as quickly as he‘d remembered. His hand waved, dismissing the others and watching them leave carefully before turning to his room. Big mistake, she mouthed with a grin.

    As they began to shuffle out she followed a ways behind them: head down, feet stepping oh-so-quietly, eyes masked with determination. Maybe she’d be lucky. Maybe they wouldn’t notice her: he might not have told them she wasn’t there by choice. He might not hear the extra pair of feet shuffling towards the door, might already be turning away towards his book, might--

    Oh, who was she kidding? Of course he’d notice. He always noticed. Better to sit down and close her eyes and get to work. Better than embarrassing herself by having to be dragged back. She'd already experienced that once. Cringing and defeated without him ever having said a word, she shuffled her way back to her seat and closed her eyes, already shutting down the parts of her consciousness irrelevant to Sight.

    Damn him.

    This wasn’t exactly something she’d mastered yet, but Guildhelm seemed to think she could summon prophecies at will. A very small grin tweaked her lips at his assumptions. Adele could hardly make sense of the visions that came to her, let alone call up visions whenever he asked her to. Still, she was getting closer. She had figured out that certain parts of her consciousness weren’t necessary for receiving visions, and even if she couldn’t call them up at will yet, it became easier to receive and understand them now.

    She shifted in her seat, the hard wood box feeling uncomfortable on her backside. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to spending an hour sitting here than another hour wincing every time she moved. Bored, fidgety and curious, Adele lifted an eyelid to peek in the direction of Guildhelm's retreat.

    She stood as quietly as she could, pushed the door open ever so slightly, and pressed her face to the crack . Ah, there he is--absorbed already by his book. If he leans any closer to the page his giant nose will touch it! She grinned a little. Maybe he hadn’t noticed her half-hearted attempt at escape. Maybe, even, she might have a chance to explore the city. Her body wiggled a little excitedly with the idea.

    Adele wavered between the desire to escape and explore the city and the desire to do as she was told, which seemed almost instinctual. She had never not followed instructions back at the cloister, and she had long since given up her hopes of full-fledged escape. She still wanted to return home, certainly, but fear of Guildhelm wasn’t all that kept her here. The thought that he might, somehow, be right about not only the city’s government but Loegir Himself scared her to death. She never acknowledged it, of course, but it lurked someplace far back in her mind that she could never turn off or quiet.

    And she had to admit, her curiosity about the city and the world outside the temple proved to be an inescapable motivation. His promises--well, threats--to show her the city Furnaces only excited her. Were there really as many as he claimed? And she had heard the other rebels speak of the city as a massive, teeming place of so many people and things woven together in the most chaotic of ways. The idea appealed to her: she had never known anything but the quiet and structured life of the cloister.

    So here she was: unable to decide between a quick escape into the city and sitting down to once again not induce any visions. She swallowed, watching Guildhelm turn the page of his books of science as if they were holy. If she was quick, she might be able to sneak out before he noticed.

    And so she continued to stand there, bent over and peeking through his door, tugged by two opposing instincts and unable to decide.

    Damn him.