I sat in the herb garden outside the kitchen facing the stone tomb of Sir Haltha, surrounded by tufts of lavender. I needed to be alone with my thoughts.

“Caleb?” Sarina called out from the kitchen. “It's time.”

She stood in the doorway, two steps up from the outside. I took the first step up and lowered my gaze to meet her eyes; she hadn't moved but rather stared at me with a blank expression.

“What’s up?” I said.

“You coming?”

“You’re blocking the way.”

“Am I?” She smiled.

We were close such that I could feel the heat of her body, and when she looked up at me, there wasn’t so much distance that I couldn’t reach down and kiss her lips without straining my neck.

But as I wrapped my arm around her waist, she turned her face to the side and giggled. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to kiss you."

"Oh!" Her eyes opened wide and she smiled. "Why would you do such a thing? Do you kiss all your friends?"

"I was hoping that, uh… what I said to you earlier. In the belfry. Do you…"

She poked my chest with her finger and spoke, still smiling wide. "That was a hypothetical. If you were to ask me something, truly, then that's a conversation we would need to have then. But since you haven't asked…"

"What about Naveris?"

She giggled lightly. "What about it?"

My heart felt as if it was about to burst; it wasn't meant to be so abused. "Sarina, we may never get another chance. Will you be my Naveris?"

She searched my face and bit her lower lip as she toyed with my shirt, flattening out the breast across my chest. She then reached up and rested both her hands on my shoulders, and fixed her beautiful black eyes onto mine for a moment. The anticipation on her face was bleeding out as surely as it was mine. Finally she leaned in close and whispered in my ear, "that's a pagan tradition!"

With that she broke out laughing, took my hand, and led me through the kitchen into the dining hall.

The dining hall was filled with guests. The three long tables had been rearranged into a horseshoe, with three big, cushioned chairs at the center. Easily two-dozen places had been set with plates, cups, and silver along with cloth napkins. Most of them had been taken up by the villagers we'd grown up to know, while some of the places were vacant.

“Ahh!” Father called out to me. “There you are! Come sit up here at the place of honor." Father took my hand, led me over to the center table and sat me on the right, with Davod in the center and Geraln on the left.

Geraln leaned over as if to call out to me, but then Father stood at the floor before everyone. "Friends, thank you all for coming. It is with celebration and sadness, grief and gratitude, that we invited all of you to send off our three boys… men… to fight for the preservation of peace within the Empire. Geraln, Davod, and Caleb,” he nodded to each of us as he spoke, “we wish you victory, we wish you health. Tonight, fill your bellies and enjoy this taste of Gath. We are a small village, but we love the three of you dearly, and we wish for your safe return. Thank you."

As the audience cheered, girls poured out from the kitchen carrying platters of our meal and began portioning out servings for the guests. There didn’t seem to be any organization as to who would get served first or in which order, but rather they went all about the table and bounced from guest to guest. Guenevieve brought a plate of stuffed mushrooms swimming in a pool of molten cheese that let off fumes of nice pepper.

“Careful with these ones,” she winked at me.

“Wen, what kind of mushrooms are these?”

She looked at me sideways. “Normal mushrooms…?”

I leaned in a little towards her. “Are you sure?”

She fought back a giggle and whispered, “shut up!”

“It’s just that…”

“Shh!” she smiled wide and shifted her eyes about to see who else might have been privy to our conversation.

Runya came to me next. She stood dignified with a metal bowl and a large spoon. “Would you like some mashed gyeza?”

“Yes, please.”

She lifted up the spoon and placed a dollop of white, buttery goop on my plate. Then she went over to Davod and bent over so as to be inches from his face. “And would you like some mashed gyeza?”

Her shirt was open, and his eyes had clearly gotten lost. “I’ll take anything you serve me.”

“Good boy!” she said, then gave her bloated buffoon a generous mass of food.

Talys had worked her way from the opposite side of the table, but then skipped over Geraln entirely to serve Davod.

“Hey!” he protested.

Talys danced her words up and down the musical register as she spoke, “didn’t know you liked vegetables.”

“I want some vegetables.”

“Fine.”

She went back over to his seat and dropped a spoonful of peppered carrots, dripping of pork fat, onto his plate without so much as looking in his direction. He scowled, but his eyes never left her face. She moved on as soon as she’d finished. Davod leaned over to him and whispered something, but I couldn’t hear what it was. I heard Geraln’s reply, though. “Stay out of it.”

Sarina came out and made a straight line in my direction carrying a wooden mug with steam coming off it, and brought it over to me. “Sorry I neglected you earlier.”

“In the doorway to the herb garden?” I said.

“No, fool! Hot cider. You were supposed to get some earlier.”

“Oh. All right, then.”

She excused herself, “I couldn’t hear what you’d said in the herb garden.”

“You answered me!”

“What’s that? It’s loud in here.”

“Sarina, you can hear me just fine.”

With that she winked, turned, and walked back to the kitchen only to peek over her shoulder before disappearing behind the door. I was still trying to figure out what that meant when Varilne came up to me with a spoonful of mixed rice that gave off lavender. A plump girl she was, with a kind face who locked her eyes onto me and smiled shyly as she walked off towards Geraln.

My plate was getting filled up. As if there’d been room, Dariana brought over a basket of sour breads and gazed at me lovingly while placing one on my plate, then another, smiling wide and not removing her light-green eyes from mine even for a second.

“Why does he get two?” Geraln protested. “Why do I only get one?”

Dariana turned to him and spoke smoothly. “You didn’t ask nicely.”

“Can I get another?”

“That’s not nice enough.”

“May I please get another?”

“Still not nice.”

“What the hell?”

Davod started laughing. “There’s plenty of food, man.”

Dariana pursed her lips, looked back at me, then placed a third roll on my plate before resuming her journey around the guests.

Davod, still laughing, leaned over to me. “How did it go with her earlier?”

“I went to go ask about Carthia.”

“Bullshit, man. We all used to go see her, and it was never to ask about no Carthia, so don’t lie. How’d it go?”

Geraln leaned over and looked at me, wanting to be a part of that conversation.

“She said it’s a death trap and begged me not to go. We go south to Ulum, over the mountains and it should take us about a week to get there.”

The two of them shared a muted laugh, then Geraln clarified. “That’s not all she said, man.”

I looked at him, unsure what I should follow that with, when Juliara came by with a scoop of shredded meat soaked in thick, brown gravy and dotted with sliced olives.

“Thank you Juliara,” I said.

“Fuck off,” and she walked away. Davod broke out laughing and took another sip of his drink.

By the time the girls sat down for their own meal, most of the guests were well into stuffing themselves full. The older men of the village brought out the drums, cymbals, and flutes and began to play. The mood was cheerful. Kely went around keeping everyone’s wine cup full; she’d filled Geraln’s cup twice already, and Mother Searnie pushed out from the kitchen a wheeled cart, atop which slept a roast hog beset with herbs and glistening in the firelight. She brought it over to Father first.

“You should serve the honored, first.”

She ignored him and bent her withered frame over to him for a kiss before cutting him a generous slab of meat.

I was getting into the music when Talys and Guenevieve emerged from a doorway with Guenevieve carrying a large bundle wrapped up in brown paper. They made their way around the table and stopped in front of me. Sarina was behind them asking the musicians to pause for a moment.

Then, with everyone's eyes on me, Talys began. "If I were to dream, I may be a bird. I'd fly through the sky, hop from tree to tree, and sing my way about. Might as well be a magical goyin… or at least a little bit taller."

She got some muted laughter for that

"But dreams and flights of fancy, sweet as they are, pale against hope. To live in that sweet, sweet bliss of where hopes and dreams intersect, Caleb, we simply must keep you alive."

Geraln slammed his cup on the table such that his wine spilled over the rim and drenched his fingers in red. "What are you talking about?"

She turned directly to him. "I dream of fucking him, not you."

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"Talys!" Father chided her while the rest of the table erupted in laughter. I tried to cover my face and disappear.

She turned briefly to him and answered. "Chide me for speaking the truth in a church, Father? Do we not celebrate courage? Is this not why we're here—to speak the unspoken lest the listener never return to hear it."

She then turned back to me. "In that spirit, we—all of us—pooled our funds to buy you this."

From behind her, Guenevieve brought up the package. It was wrapped in brown paper and tied with a deep-red ribbon that ended with a bow. The paper was decorated with a handful of red kisses and smelt of mountain lilies after a spring rain.

I hadn't expected anything like that. Geraln continued to glare at me, while Father himself was baffled as well.

"Open it!" Sarina beamed with joy. Her face was all I needed.

It was heavy. And malleable.

I found a seam in the paper, tore it away, and unfolded the garments inside. One was a long tunic made of fine metal rings, and the other a vest of thick, hardened leather.

I turned to Sarina. "You bought me armor?"

"We all did." She gestured with her hand around the table at the numerous ladies in attendance.

"Where the fuck is mine?" Geraln spat.

"Geraln!" Father shouted at him.

Dariana answered, though. "We… thought… that your mother would take care of you… as she always does."

"Yes," Varilne added. "It's because Caleb is an orphan. He has no family, poor thing."

Geraln breathed in audibly and sat still, picking up his wine and downing it in one gulp before setting it back down and tapping at it. He then waited a moment while the musicians resumed, then cleared his throat and tapped at his wine glass a second time.

"Will one of you girls fill my son's cup?" His mother shot a look at Talys as if she expected her to do the honors.

While Talys wandered elsewhere, Sarina brought out a carafe to fill his cup with. He swallowed that one just as quick and let streams of excess dribble down his chin before snapping his fingers at her.

"You don't have to be rude," I told him.

He sucked his teeth and took another decisive gulp before turning away to look off in the other direction. I thought he was done, but he swallowed the rest of his drink and turned back to me. "And you don't have to be a selfish cunt!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I picked Talys, and you're leading her on. And everyone saw you with her by the pool when you knew I loved her, and you don't give a shit about her!"

"Calm yourself!" Father stood. Once more, the music stopped.

"I'm tired of calming myself!" He then pointed at me while he spoke, "why don't you chide this slut for kissing every fucking girl in the barony to feed his selfish ego! You fucking KNEW I loved her!"

While the rest of the dining hall fell silent, Talys's voice cut through his tirade. "I kiss who I want, you fat petulant shit!”

His mother spoke up again. "You talk to my son that way? He's been nothing but nice to you!"

"Your son has been an absolute cunt."

Geraln stood and answered that. "Maybe if you'd have given me what I asked for…"

Talys turned back to him. "You're repugnant! The thought of you on top of me is nauseating! I don't want you, I NEVER wanted you, and I NEVER WILL!"

"I WANT MY NAVERIS!"

"Grow a spine! Maybe then you could ask your left hand for a change!"

"I want my FUCKING NAVERIS!"

"NO!"

His mother spoke up again. "The boy is going off to war. You should be honored! Stop being a bitch and just give it to him!"

Father tried to set out his hands and cool the situation, but it was clear he’d lost control already.

“NO!” Talys shouted. “You want your son’s cock wet so bad, spread your own damn legs! He's a fat weakling and you should have culled him!”

Geraln laughed and looked around the room, holding his cup aloft. “Get a load of this slut! You know Talys, he’ll never look at you the way he looks at the mutt.”

Everything went silent but for the crackling of the fire. I glared at him so, I’d have sliced his throat open right then and there if I could. Talys’s voice was low and careful, and her face grew still. “I wouldn’t talk about her like that if I were you.”

But Geraln did not silence himself. "Why the fuck not? You say what everyone thinks, so can I." He then pointed at Sarina while looking directly at me. "I bet she's not even an orphan. I bet her whore mother abandoned her because she didn't want to raise a halfbreed."

That was all I could tolerate. Davod saw me coming right across from him and caught me in his giant arms.

“Come on!” Geraln goaded me further. Then, seeing I was restrained, he turned and took another swig from his cup. But I would not be restrained. Instead, I dropped down low and slipped free from Davod, then lunged at Geraln with all my strength. He hadn’t seen that, and my fist caught him square on the nose. He doubled back, and my other fist caught him on the side of his jaw.

“Hold him back!” I heard Father shout, but I was not done.

As Geraln fell backwards onto the floor, I was over him landing more punches when I felt strong arms wrap around me once more. My next few blows found air as I was pulled from him, and so I kicked, landing a boot into his side.

Davod pulled me back and far away from the man. When I shook the haze from my eyes, I saw Geraln on his back coughing, then turning to the side to spit out blood onto the floor. He wouldn’t get up, but rather lay there, a quivering mass, sobbing into the blood pooling out from his nose and mouth.

“CALEB!” Father shouted. “Go to your room at once!”

My heart was still thundering, and my breath was still heavy, but I took up my cup of hot cider and left with the sensation of a room full of eyes following my every step. Down the corridor I made it to my bedroom while the musicians started up again. I closed the door; I didn't want to hear the rest of the evening. People talking, music playing, and soon they would start to dance. I'd have asked Sarina to dance with me, we'd have shown everyone how we truly felt and we wouldn't be just friends anymore. And I'd missed it. Geraln was drunk. I should have let him ramble on, vomit, and then wake in the morning with regret. Instead I gave up my evening for that. I gave up dancing with her.

I sipped my cider. The warmness of the drink had long surrendered to the sharp bite of alcohol that had previously been masked, and I leaned back to allow the taste to linger.

I had my own regrets.

She'd been right—it was a pagan tradition. It didn't matter. It shouldn't have mattered. I should have been above it, above such desire. I should have desired chastity but instead I desired her.

I had a candle beside me on the nightstand, a lonely candle that I watched. The flame danced to its own music, alone, and as it burned down my mind raced through what I would soon be going through: Carthia. A war. A world of darkness, terror, and death. A war in a different universe shrouded in mystery, into which many go and none return.

Would I?

What if this was my last chance with her?

The noise from outside had long died down, I'd long since drained my cider, and I could hear the crickets outside when a knock came to my door. I sat up on the bed. "Come in."

The hallway was dim with only the distant hearth casting a faint orange glow on the wall that flickered behind the tall, slim silhouette of a girl wearing a ribbon of black silk for an evening gown and a belt of uncut diamond-tree stones that shimmered in the light. It was Guenevieve, and as she stepped into my room, the candle light reflected off the smooth skin she’d given to my eyes.

"Hello," she said. In her hands, she carried the gifts I'd gotten earlier—the heavy bundle of armor that strained her arms I could tell. I got up to take it from her and set it atop the wardrobe opposite my bed.

"Thanks, Wen."

"May I sit with you?" she asked.

"Sure." We sat down together on the bed. My eyes traced her skin from her side across her hips. The black silk fell between her legs, leaving her thighs to me fully, though despite still feeling dizzy from the cider I managed to linger on the curvature of her back.

"There's something I never told you." Her voice was soft and resolute and echoed of deep concern. "About my dad."

"What about him"

"I watched him do it."

"What? You said you found him—that you heard something and ran in, and found him on the floor."

"That was a lie. I watched him do it." A solemn tear meandered down her beautiful cheek, and she raised a hand to wipe it away.

"Why did you…"

"Just listen.” She wiped another tear away, then took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her voice quivered as she spoke. “This is important. I came in and he had the knife in his hand. He looked at me… he was crying and he looked at me. I asked him what he was doing, and he just sobbed. He said he was following orders. Those words… they haunt me. He kept saying it and he was crying. Following orders. I had to follow orders. He just kept saying it. I asked him what he was doing and he said he was just following orders. Then…"

She wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"That's when…"

She couldn't speak any more for the tears. I grasped for something I could comfort her with, and took to stroking her back beneath her hair. "I'm sorry…"

"Just listen!"

I did. I leaned in close to her and listened.

"War changes a man. Even before…" she wiped away more tears. "He used to carry me on his shoulders, throw me in the air. I'd sit on his lap and we would read together. When he came back, he wasn't him anymore. He was… changed. He wouldn't laugh, he wouldn't talk. He barely came out, and he… he drank. A lot. I… he… I'm scared. I'm terrified that you won't come back, and then I'm terrified that you will come back but you won't be Caleb anymore."

I didn't know what else to do so I embraced her. I set my arms about her body and held her close. Then, as surely as the storm carries rain, we brought our lips together and kissed. I felt her hand behind my neck and the pull of desire to reach over to her body, but I couldn't. I wanted to feel her. Be one with her, but I couldn’t. I pulled apart.

"I heard," she whispered, "that skinny girls… feel better."

"What do you mean?"

"Well I don't know, obviously, because I'm not a man, but I heard. I heard that we're… tighter… maybe you'd like it."

Thoughts of Sarina shot through my skull and I pulled away from her. My heart dreaded what I had to say, though I would have to force the words out no less. "Um… Wen… I'm so sorry. It's… it's just not you. I'm sorry."

Her face froze. Then, without a word she stood and ran out of the door. I got up and looked around the corner for her, only to catch a flash of her dress billowing behind her.

"Wen!" I called out. Nothing. That was the last I saw of her.

The expression on her face broke my heart, and it hurt to see her look at me that way. I needed a moment, so I stared at the wall until my room went dark leaving only the ambient light from the distant hearth coming in from the doorway.

It was quiet.

I set about in my mind to think that perhaps Sarina was still in the dining hall, but when I got there all I found were a few stray cups and the faint glow of embers popping every few minutes.

I figured she must have gone to bed, so I made my way down the hall and knocked on her door ever so gently. I was afraid I'd awaken her if she'd gone to sleep. Then the door opened and she stood before me wearing a silk nightgown with lace trim that hugged her lean, athletic figure perfectly and a hem that hung barely enough to cover anything. Her legs, her thighs looked phenomenal, and I fought hard to bring my eyes from her breasts poking out from beneath the garment. I could scarcely catch my breath.

"You look absolutely beautiful."

She smiled and took my hand, and led me into her bedroom. She'd had a candelabra lit with a half-dozen candles casting enough light to sate my addiction to her sublime figure. She then directed me to sit on the bed, and I watched her back side as she closed the door and secured the dead bolt. Then she turned around. "You said I look beautiful."

"Yeah."

"What is that in crude-man-speak?"

She always made me laugh. "Your legs look fucking delicious. Make me want to get between them and lick you clean."

She smiled. "Sounds like fun. Anything else?"

"Your breasts…"

"Breasts? What's that?"

"Tits, sorry. So perky. They're hypnotic."

"What do you want to do with them?"

"Rub my face in them. Bite down on your nipples and suck on them for hours. And I love the muscles in your thighs, excites me…"

She looked down at her legs.

"... Your gorgeous… toned thighs."

"Are you excited?"

"I am excited. Just looking at you gets me excited."

"Do you envision me lifting up the hem of my nightgown?"

That got my attention. "Mm-hmm."

"Yeah?" And she toyed with it. Her fingers, flitting about, tugging at both sides she pulled it taut over her legs, only to release and pass her fingers in front, beneath the hem. I couldn't stop breathing hard over her. "You want to see?"

"I do."

"I've got nothing on under here." And she kept playing, teasing my eyes with it.

"Can we do an experiment?"

She broke out laughing at that remark. "The only experiment we've got left is for you to enter me."

I lost all my words.

"After you said what you said in the belfry I couldn't stop thinking about it." She kept at it. I stood mesmerized by the way she tugged at the hem of her nightgown, flitting it about, lifting ever so slightly only to let go. My eyes were glued. She knew exactly how to excite me, and she was doing it. My heart thundered wild.

"Mmmmm," she moaned. "I know, chastity, pagan traditions, whatever. I just wanted to, nothing more. Then you asked me in the garden, I can't begin to tell you how excited that got me. I thought about what it would feel like to make love to you; I was even touching myself to the thought of it right when Talys came to the door and told me she saw you kissing Guenevieve. Just a moment ago."

Oh. That. "I, uh…"

"Some things don't change, do they?"

"I told Guenevieve…"

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I don’t.”

“So…”

“I want you to go to her. Ask her for Naveris. Ask Talys. Ask anyone else. I don’t care.”

“It’s you I want!”

“You can’t have me. We’re just friends, and that’s a pagan tradition anyway.”

“But…”

“Please go.”