Page 2 of Song of Scent and Magic

I wasn’t the only one who wondered if they chose wrong when they picked me.

Tyla snorted. That was a sound we could make, but the priestesses hated when we did it. Apparently it was unbecoming of the chosen, Silent Maidens.

I glanced towards the door, in case Geralda or one of the other priestesses happened past.

"You'd be walking to Havenmoor after having your ass strapped," I signed to Tyla. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and fastened it in place with a leather strap.

"Only if someone heard," she retorted. She carefully braided her hair and tied it up. Her plait was so long, it almost fell to her waist. She tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear and regarded her reflection. "I think I'd wear blue. It would match the sky."

I turned to the door as a handful of my sister maidens walked past, movements smooth and quiet.

"We'll find out soon enough."

Too soon. I would have liked another few days. Another week. Another year.

"We'll be fine," Tyla signed. "Come on. If we don't hurry up, we'll miss breakfast."

She looked unworried, and in spite of her words, unhurried. She offered me her arm. We stepped out of the room we shared together and followed the other women down the corridor.

The breakfast room was large, but half empty. Several of the younger maidens moved around placing plates of food, crockery and cutlery on the tables. We were all assigned this job once a day for one of the meals. Sometimes we joked we werechosento be servants of the priestesses, because none of them ever had serving duty, or kitchen duty. We couldn't talk, so we couldn't complain.

The truth was, none of us really minded. It gave us something to do between lessons, cleaning the altars and changing the candles. Not to mention kitchen duty was a good opportunity for a prank or two. Most of us had changed out the sugar for salt at least once in our time here. The strapping for that was particularly harsh, but didn't stop any of us from doing it anyway. It was a rite of passage for my sisters and I. Most of us.

We stepped over to the table we shared with six of our sister maidens. The eight of us were chosen, and chokered on the same day. All of us born within months of each other.

"You're late," sharp faced Hycanthe signed. She sat beside Jezalyn, the only one of our sisters who seemed to tolerate her. The gods only knew why. Jezalyn was sweet, if somewhat serious.

Tyla and I exchanged glances and matching rolls of our eyes. Just because we arrived on the same day didn't mean the eight of us were friends. Hycanthe spent the last ten years trying to find ways of getting Tyla and I into trouble. As if we needed help.

"We're not late, you're early," Tyla told her before Hycanthe could report us to one of the priestesses.

To punctuate her words, the breakfast gong rang out once, twice.

Tyla shot Hycanthe a triumphant glance. She would have stuck out her tongue if we weren’t in a place where she’d easily be seen.

Hycanthe looked as though she wanted to slap the expression off her face. She wouldn't have, even if we were alone. Hycanthe never put one of her pretty little toes out of line. Not in public, and not so it could be traced back to her.

A couple of younger girls scurried to slip into seats before anyone noticed. Their eyes were wide. I recognised both as new arrivals. Initiates. After breakfast and after the morning’s ceremony, they'd be busy with lessons in hand language with the older maidens. That was a job which fell to my group of eight, until today.

Until the girls learned to sign, they'd be as lost and confused as I was in the early days, stumbling through, trying to make sense of it all. Crying themselves to sleep at night and praying to Breia to let them return home. If Breia heard, she didn’t give a shit. No maidens were ever sent home. Not alive.

We ate like we did everything else, in silence. The only sounds in the room were the clinking of cutlery and the rattle of plates, and those were brief. No one wanted to be singled out for being noisy.

Hycanthe gave me a dirty look when I snagged the last piece of toast on the plate in front of us. The upside to not being able to talk was not having to hear her bitch about it. If we were alone, she'd respond with a rude gesture. She couldn't do that here and we both knew it. Usually that meant payback later, like her pouring water into my bed. I'd have to keep my eye on her. Today of all days, I didn't need her fucking with me.

The gong sounded once more. We hurried to finish our mouthfuls and wash them down with sweet tea. Only the priestesses were allowed coffee.

I swallowed just before the second gong sounded. Anything not eaten by then, remained uneaten. The priestesses were suckers for a tight routine. They gave not even a centimetre of slack.

On the third gong, we stood, chairs scraping lightly against the worn stone floor.

I caught the eye of Zared, one of the temple's younger priests. He gave me a wink before brushing some of his long brown hair back off his handsome face.

I lost count of the amount of times I teasingly told him to have it cut. I even offered to cut it for him, but for some reason he didn't like the idea. Was it because of my suggestion to use a kitchen knife to do it? The gods only knew why he didn't think that was the perfect solution. My knife skills weren't that bad. Mostly.

I cut him a smirk, then looked away and stood nicely, my hands folded in front of me.

Eventually, the priestesses filed out the door. That was our cue to step away from the table and follow. The younger sisters hurried behind us.

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