Chapter 15: First Love.
The sun, half-buried below the horizon, bled weary crimson through clouds, turning a sky-corner deep gold-bronze—the closest to night the Month of Endless Day allowed.
Centuries of habit sent most to sleep. The square’s raucous fires dwindled to glowing charcoal embers.
“Cary, your mom’s too extravagant! Tonight’s feast for them—seven days’ food, no, ten!”
On the north slope’s grove, Maren grumbled through mouthfuls, devouring a basket of dinner scraps. Nimble fingers stripped every chicken bone fleck, not wasting a grease speck.
“Maren, do you blame me? If I hadn’t taken you, you wouldn’t have fallen ill…” Cary leaned forward beside her, kneading knees, face anxious.
“Just that…?”
Maren poured water from a clay jug over oily fingers, voice calm. “Holy Lord bless—at least you gave me clear hope, proof I’m qualified for the rest… Dad and Mom in heaven must be glad.”
She flicked water droplets, gazed at the gold-red sky. Loss was final; grief sank deep—she moved on.
“You… really want to be a Lantern Bearer?”
Cary hugged his head, slumped against rough bark, staring at leaf-sliced sky, voice lost. “But that man today… Mom too—Lantern power isn’t just Sura’s favor; it’s a burden. All power has cost…”
“No, Cary, don’t say that!” Maren paled, stung. She hastily traced a triangular sign. “Holy Lord forgive—we know nothing of great power, but Sura’s mercy is seen!”
Urgent, devout, a touch offended. She feared his faith-stray words.
“But if you can’t become one?” Cary blurted, then clamped mouth, regret flooding, eyes dodging.
Maren stiffened, hesitated, then—gathering courage—leaned into him, burying face hard in his chest.
“Cary… Dad and Mom are with the Holy Lord… praying for me under Sura’s throne… I… I’m scared…”
Shoulders shook in his arms, voice muffled, trembling.
Cary’s cheeks and ears burned. Strange heat surged. Arms rose stiff, hovered, finally circled her gently.
First intimate embrace. Maren’s soft warmth trembled against him.
“Cary…” After long moments, a shy, mosquito-whisper: “If I’m just an ordinary village girl… would you like me?”
Maren’s a good girl, hardworking, brave—Renat, Mocus, Finn, adults repeated since childhood.
Young Cary scoffed; the faster, stronger girl always challenged him. Only later did odd feelings stir.
“But… becoming a Lantern, I might leave.”
Cary’s voice tightened, arms loosening. “Mom wants me here or House retainer… I want the Church, Holy Sword Monk Order.”
Maren’s grip spasmed. Seconds later, she jolted back as if burned, head drooping, spirits visibly sunk. “So… you’ll give all devotion to Holy Lord Sura… become a noble martial monk…”
Voice faded, disappointment heavy. Amber eyes welled; tears shimmered.
Silence threatened to choke when faint rustles and hushed voices drifted from deeper woods, breaking the awkward spell.
“No, sir, twelve crowns minimum… I’m younger!”
A village woman haggled, seductive, loosening skirt ties under shadows while blocking a junior officer’s groping hands.
“Fine… but you give more pleasure… heh…”
He ripped her last cover, rough palm cupping bare breast, other hiking skirt.
Heavy beast-pants and her stifled, trembling moans wove. Mere dozen meters away, behind a thick trunk, Cary and Maren froze—breath held, rigid, ears pricked, faces flushed with shock and panic.
Time blurred. The dark-woods deal ended; officer sated, woman paid.
Silence returned, unnerving. Behind the tree, mouths dry, hearts pounding, cheeks scorching.
“I… I must go… Nora’ll notice I’m not in bed…”
Maren snapped awake, shoved Cary away, face ripe giant-berry red.
One hand clutched chest as if she were touched; other pinned skirt against invisible assault. Eyes averted, she fled the grove like a startled fawn.
Watching her stumble off, Cary raised a hand, knuckles brushing his nose. Heart hammered harder, ribs aching, desperate to burst free.