Sarina looked different from everyone else. The people of Gath were mostly Herali; we had olive-green skin. Most of us had straight, dark-green hair, while Talys’s hair was a bit wavy and Dariana’s had streaks of yellow. Most of us had deep emerald-green eyes, but Sarina looked very different. Her skin was a light yellow—I liked to say it was because of all the sunshine she carried with her. Her hair was golden-bronze and given to tiny curls that fell into a mass all about her face. She used to ‘torture’ me—her hair would get tangled up and she ‘made’ me spend hours helping her comb it out while I savored every moment of those soft curls in my fingers. Her eyes looked black like coals even when the summer sun caught her face directly. Her cheeks were soft, her nose was round, her lips were absolutely flawless.

She was my first kiss. I remember that day; we had all gone up the Mousehead—an easy climb that we could summit and be back home before nightfall. Geraln decided he was too tired and left about a quarter of the way up. Later we found out he’d eaten all the minicakes Guenevieve’s mum had made for us himself. I was so mad!

Tor and I led the way. We were at a decision point; we could either continue the trail around for about an hour and a half, or climb up the old rockslide and be up in about twenty minutes. We knew what we wanted to do, but the question was whether everyone else would be up to it. So we went back and found the girls had gotten into some kind of game where they’d put all the boys’ names into a hat and took turns prognosticating on who was going to kiss who first. Runya went, and she pulled Davod’s name. She was so livid! “I’m never going to kiss that bloated buffoon! I’d sooner kiss a goat’s arse!” and she picked up Sarina’s hat with all the names in it and tossed it down the ravine.

Late that night, Sarina came to lie down next to me. That was nothing unusual; since we were little kids she would wake up in the night hearing voices and come stay with me.

“Can I do an experiment?” she whispered.

“Sure,” I said, and she kissed me.

Just like that. She met her lips to mine for a fleeting moment, then curled up in my arms and went to sleep. My world was forever changed.

The day I was called, after we left Dariana’s place, she led me back to the church. We went around to the side door and behind the chapel to the narrow, winding staircase that creaked as it led us up to the belfry where we could look out and see the entire village of thatched roofs and the terraced farmland reaching up the mountains on both sides like giant staircases. There we listened to the water rushing over the rocks as the creek ran through the center of town, and I stole a moment to look upon her face.

I was still reeling from the ale Dariana had given me, yet Sarina produced a small wineskin and offered it to me.

“Who’d you steal this one from?”

She giggled and brushed a tuft of hair over her ear. My eyes settled on her soft cheeks, bathed in the warm air of high noon cut briefly by a cool breeze blowing off the mountains.

“How far did she get with you?” she asked, still smiling.

I winced at the question, unsure how much I should even share.

“I bet she was excited to see you,” she said.

“She did seem that way.”

“How far did she get with you?”

“Not as far as… I mean… I didn’t touch her. I’ve never…”

“I’m not your wife, Caleb, you can do whatever you like.”

“I know that!”

She grinned wide and watched as I took a good swig of the wine she brought. Red, and lacking the maturity of a well-oaked batch, yet sweet on the palate. Sarina took a swig, and we shared a few more sips together as we watched the crows carry some prize to a small nook by a gray-brick chimney on a rooftop below only to fight over it.

“You know she doesn't give a lick about you,” she said. “She just wants to break you in. I get it, though, she's pretty. Exotic eyes. Glorious tits.”

I broke out laughing at that remark.

She turned into me. “I thought you above those pagan traditions."

“I wasn't thinking about Naveris at all. I merely thought she'd know about Carthia.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I swear it! I’d never heard of Carthia, I knew she spoke to a lot of travelers, so I thought she might know something.”

“Uh-huh.”

“If I'd thought about that, I’d have…” I hesitated to speak further. Unsure how to fill in the silence, I took another drink from the wine. By this time, I was feeling rather dizzy.

“You’d have what?” she said.

“I um… I mean… it's a pagan tradition; I wouldn't partake regardless."

“And if you did?”

"I am a chaste man. I can't make an exception for some pagan tradition."

"Obviously." She smirked. "That wasn’t my question, though. Who would you pick? If you weren't?"

"Hmm… What are the rules?"

"Oh come, now. It's Naveris—don't make it complicated."

"Is she allowed to refuse me?"

She laughed. "There's not one girl in Osenia who'd refuse you."

"What if she's chaste?"

"It's a hypothetical, Caleb, don't make it complicated.”

“What if we grew up together and she’s my best friend?”

Sarina laughed. Then, she sat up straight, pursed her lips, and punched my arm. “Didn't you kiss Talys just the other day?”

I smiled. “That was to make Geraln leave her alone.”

“Is that what she told you?”

“Yes.”

“And you fell for it?”

“Fell for it? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sarina giggled. “What do you think it means? Either you kissed her because you love her, in which case you can’t be in love with me, or you’re as naïve as you claim, which is even worse.”

“Why is that worse?”

She chuckled. “Let me think. Hmm… you love me, we’re married, we belong to each other, everything is wonderful.” She turned her back to me and wrapped her arms round herself, mocking a lovers’ embrace and making kissing sounds.

I laughed.

“Mmmmm, I love you so much. Oh, hey Talys, sure, check me over for leeches, you’re so kind.” She turned around and pursed her lips at me for dramatic effect. “Just a perfectly innocent, strictly-platonic reason for a girl to put her hands all over my husband’s naked body and he’s too dim to see what’s really going on.” At that, she turned around and glared at me. “Tell me the truth. Were you truly that clueless?”

“I didn't think anything of it when we started.”

“I wonder where I’ve heard that before? Hmm. Let me think…”

“I mean… it… took me a while. She insisted it wasn’t anything, but I did eventually start to see what her motives were.”

“And you still allowed it.”

I looked down. “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

Sarina stared at me with a blank face. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“You sure it wasn’t her being fun-sized with tits like melons?”

That cracked me up.

“I hear the way men talk; you forget I'm invisible.”

“Right. Anyway, no, that's not it. I didn't want to hurt her feelings.”

"Well,” she shrugged. “I think you wanted to. On some level, you wanted to go along with it. We all do it—we make excuses, we find reasons to justify doing things we feel we shouldn’t in order to shirk responsibility for our bad behavior. But you wanted to kiss Talys, just like you wanted to go see Dariana just now, and the sooner you admit that to yourself, the better it will go for you.”

Sharing a skin of wine with Sarina in the belfry overlooking the village, the water rushing over the rocks beside the mill, the warm sunshine massaging my face with the cool breeze carrying a hint of high-mountain herbs, the baron’s manse behind a veil of trees off in the distance. A crow flew by to greet us and cocked his head.

“Hello Rayu,” I said.

Sarina giggled, then he turned around and flew off, only to perch himself atop the falcon’s wing on the totem outside the hot bath.

I leaned forward to bring my face close to hers. The world was spinning, but her face was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. “Right here, right now, what I want, is to stay here with you.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Sarina sighed, finished the wine, and laid her head on my chest. Just the feel of her weight as I lifted her up and down with each breath was sublime. I wrapped my arms about her and held her there, wishing to never let go.

----------------------------------------

That evening, I stood in the doorway to the dining hall of the church, half bathed in the warm afternoon sun and half indoors watching Sarina as she danced from the kitchen wearing a loose white tunic and long brown skirt that teased her ankles as she carried a stack of plates. She set them at the table, saw me watching her, and twirled around before winking at me and bounding back into the kitchen.

Outside, Guenevieve approached the church. The late afternoon sun behind her cast a halo of orange light that seemed to set her dark hair on fire. Her dress was black silk that draped over her neck and fell over the front of her long, lean body, across her chest and down to her ankles but left her sides exposed. Her arms, her waist, her hips, her legs, from her shoulders to her feet the whole side of her body was naked but for a belt made of rough diamond-tree stones, with a necklace and earrings to match, and black lipstick.

"Hello, Wen."

She blushed and lowered her green eyes, pulled a lock of hair behind her ear and spoke through a smile. "When you call me that…"

"I've never seen that dress before."

She beamed as she spoke, "I feel naked."

"Well, I think that uh… you look… I mean, it uh… You look… uh…"

I felt a hand on my shoulder. Sarina leaned into my side, resting her head against my arm and mocked my voice. "Wow Wen! Your body is so long I could fuck you and kiss you at the same time!"

Then she scrunched her nose, slapped my chest twice, and wandered off.

I stood dumbfounded, looking back at Sarina with my eyes about to pop before turning back to Guenevieve. My breath grew heavy so as to block any useful words. "That's not what I was going to say. I wasn’t going to say that, I swear."

Guenevieve laughed and stepped up. "She does that because she gets a reaction out of you. Every time."

With that she passed by and went inside. I caught the scent of the lemonberry pie she carried and stole a glance at her back side—that same dress left her rich, olive-green skin bare from the waist up but for that cascade of straight, dark hair that draped down and mingled with the silk. She turned round and smiled upon catching me admiring her slim figure. I had to peel my gaze from her as she disappeared into the kitchen, turned round and saw Davod and Runya at the corner along the pebble path leading up to where I stood.

I stood up straight and bent over at my waist, stretching out one hand and spoke with as much elegance as I could gather. "Good evening lady, good evening gentleman."

Davod laughed to himself and shook his head with a smile. "Whatever."

"May I take your coat?"

"Why certainly!" Runya smiled and indulged my very important role in the evening's festivities. Her red fur evening coat was heavy, but it was very soft, and I couldn't stop myself from stroking it on my way over to the hanger.

"Stop doing that!" Davod chided me.

Runya laughed and poked him in his side. "It's a coat, and you do that all the time."

His giant, meaty figure filled up the door frame behind her. Then, she tilted her head all the way back and reached up to kiss that bloated buffoon on the lips before floating off to the kitchen. Davod put a hand on my shoulder and grinned. “You ready to die?”

“Eh,” I shrugged. “I’m still wavering between eating a sword and getting shot.”

“If you get out-ranged, I will lose all respect for you!” he laughed. Then he made his way over to a hearth and reclined in a large, cushioned chair while Sarina brought him a wooden mug with steam coming off it.

I turned my attention back outside and caught a glimpse of little Teryn creeping through the garden with a mass of blue fabric in her hand.

"Teryn, what's that in your hand?"

The girl hid the thing behind her back and plastered innocence across her face, smiling through pox scars leftover from infancy. "Nothing."

"Let me see."

She darted off as fast as she could. I went into the closet and took up one of the devotional robes—a simple, brown garment of woven hemp—and brought it across the courtyard, past the giant totem, and into the hot bath. There, I saw the elder lady Wynice, her hair mixed of gray and green slicked back and glued to her neck, enjoying a book in peaceful solitude with the steam rising from the water around her and carrying the astringent scent of birch oil.

"Good evening," I said.

She smiled at me and answered in relaxed tones. "Good evening. I thought you'd be enjoying your party by now."

"I am.”

“You packed up your sword, everything you need?”

“I did.”

“Make sure to write. It’s a war you’re going off to; if we don’t hear from you…”

“I will. I was just wondering, where are your clothes?"

"Right over there," she pointed to an empty stone bench and took a moment to put the pieces together. "That little fink!"

I laughed. "I brought you this."

She covered her face with her wrinkled hands and shook her head.

"Try and keep an eye out,” I warned her. “I've known her to come back."

"Thank you," she smiled. “Take good care of Guenevieve tonight,” she added with a wink before returning to her book.

As I left the hot bath, the earliest fringes of dusk began to settle across the courtyard. Over the bridge I saw Talys struggling with both hands full of baskets overflowing with flowers of all colors and shapes and altogether more voluminous than she was. I came up to her. "Let me help."

She giggled. Her voice danced up and down the musical register as she spoke. "I've climbed up half the village already and the church is right there. Now you want to help!"

Despite the protest, she handed me one armfull of baskets, a dizzying array of smells and colors I split evenly between both hands while she carried the rest. "You look handsome,” she said. “I like how you put yourself together this evening. Almost like you're trying to impress someone."

I was. As for Talys, she had on the same white cotton minidress she’d had on earlier. It wasn’t fancy or elegant, but it draped nicely over her petite figure. There were subtle differences, though, from this morning. She had on a pair of jeweled sandals, and her wavy hair had been tied at the back with a gold brace beset with gems of red, blue, and white. "How are you feeling?" she said.

"I'm fine."

“It’s OK to be scared, you know. War is a scary thing.”

“Thanks.”

From the side, I could see her eyes glancing all up and down my body, and she smirked. “Can I give you some advice?”

I turned to face her. We were almost at the door, and she slowed down, leaning in close to speak almost in a whisper. “We might never see you again.”

“That’s advice?”

She stopped and turned to face me directly, gazing up at me through those emerald-green doe eyes. “I might never see you again. I… I just would like you to keep that in mind?”

“I will.”

“May I be your Naveris?”

“Talys!” I blushed.

“Look,” she said. “You don't have to if you don't want to, but would you at least let Geraln believe otherwise?”

I shook my head. “I'm not going through that again.”

“Please, Caleb? I really don't want to be anywhere else this evening. If he thinks you've chosen me, that would make my life so much easier. I promise I won't get between you and Guenevieve.”

“Talys…”

“Please?”

“I don’t know.”

“Think about it?”

As we came into the church, she caught sight of Geraln sitting with Davod by the hearth. She then immediately crept up close to me and bumped my hip, letting out a light giggle. I saw Sarina emerge from the kitchen carrying more wine goblets than she should have carried, and my heart let out a flutter. Talys set her flowers on the table and directed me to do the same, then came up close to me, wrapped her arms tight around my waist, looked up at me and spoke in a half-whisper. “If I were as tall as Guenevieve I could kiss you without warning, and there’d be nothing you could do to stop me.”

“Nothing?” I laughed.

“Nothing at all! So you owe me.”

“What? How do I owe you?”

“He’s looking.”

“Hey!” Geraln called out. He held out his hands and plastered the role of inquisitor across his chubby face. Across the dining hall, Sarina was arranging the wine goblets with painstaking precision, taking her sweet time to shift each one an inch to the left, another slightly to the right, and rotating a few.

I told Talys, “I’m going to sit with the boys. We’ll talk later?”

“We don’t have to do anything,” her eyes pleaded with me. “Just please?”

“I’ll think about it.”

As soon as I turned, I heard Sarina behind me offering to help Talys arrange the flowers. I made my way over to the hearth, where the other two men who’d gotten the call sat nursing wooden mugs that reeked strong of hard, warm cider. No sooner than I could find my seat, Teryn appeared seemingly out of nowhere and plopped her little self onto my lap, wrapped an arm over my shoulder, turned her good eye to me and asked, “what’s Naveris?”

I heard Davod chuckle at that question, and I sought an appropriate explanation. “It’s an old Herali tradition where a man who’s about to go off to war shares a special night with his lady love. In turn, she promises to…”

“Is there sex involved?”

Davod laughed a bit more loudly at that. The alcohol coming off his breath was pronounced.

“Remind me how old you are?” I asked.

“Twelve.”

“Right. What do you even know about that?”

“The ladies in the kitchen were talking about who you were going to pick. I think you should pick Guenevieve, she’s so lovely.”

“You think so, huh?”

“I think she’s dressed like that because she wants you to pick her.”

Davod spoke up to that. “That’s very astute of you, Teryn. I think you might be onto something.”

"I think Talys wants you to pick her, too.”

Geraln scratched the back of his neck and made sure to point out his own thoughts. “I already picked her, and I told her that.”

Little Teryn didn’t hesitate. “But she doesn't like you. I don’t think you should go picking a lady who doesn’t want you to pick her.”

“Teryn,” Davod answered, “I believe you’re absolutely right.” He then turned to face Geraln directly and sipped from his mug without another word.

Geraln sucked his teeth and muttered, as to himself, “It’s not that simple.”

Teryn then turned her attention back to me, but before she could say anything further Guenevieve stood before us.

"Teryn," she said, "Father Yewan is looking for you in his study."

"Why is he looking for me there when I’m here?"

Davod laughed some more.

Guenevieve crossed her arms and added a sternness to her voice. "I think you know what I mean."

Teryn sucked her teeth.

"You'd better go," I said. "It'll go much worse for you if you don't."

"Fine." With that she accepted her fate and got up from my lap, then disappeared into the dark hallway.

Guenevieve sat down next to me and smiled. She crossed one knee over the other and held them together in one hand with a goblet of red in the other. The black silk of her gown draped over her thigh on my side, a scant veil over smooth skin from her hips upwards. She sat up straight, gracing my eyes with the curvature of her back, her front, the delicate mounds of her breasts.

"That girl needs to learn some respect," she said.

“She’s a good kid. Just a bit playful is all.”

Guenevieve huffed at that remark. “You don’t understand. When you’re not around, she’s an absolute menace.”

"Maybe that's because I don't talk to her like she's an absolute menace."

"She has a crush on you."

"She's twelve."

"Is that so hard to believe? I was a twelve-year-old girl once."

"Oh, come on. Who'd you have a crush on when you were twelve?"

Her black lips cracked open slightly, and her dark green eyes meandered all over my face for a moment before she answered. "That hasn't changed."

"Ahem." Sarina stood staring at Guenevieve, who looked up at her in turn. "Guenevieve, would you mind putting the butter into ramekins?"

She stood, turned back to face me, smiled, and walked off towards the kitchen. Sarina then sauntered up and sat down in the same spot, crossed her legs and held her knees in one hand, holding a flagon of mead in the other while arching her back. The way she looked at me fighting back a smile, I couldn't help but break out laughing. Then she started laughing and we kept that up until our eyes met.

"Sorry that I don't have a silk ribbon to wear," she said.

"You don't need one." I fixed my eyes upon hers as they glanced back and forth between mine. Then after a moment she bit her bottom lip and blushed through a giggle.

"Sarina?" Guenevieve called out for her.

"Work to do!" With that she planted a hand on my thigh and lifted herself up. As she walked off, I marveled silently at the form of her, her lean athletic figure barely discernible through that loose tunic and long skirt.

"Damn, man!" Geraln exclaimed. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

I turned to face him.

“I’m just saying. Make up your damn mind is all.”

Davod chuckled. “You forget who you’re talking to!”