The Warded Man

young woman, and he a young man. His pulse quickened at the way her skirts flared in the breeze, edges of lace hinting of petticoats beneath.
    He said nothing as he stepped forward, but she caught the look in his eyes, and smiled. “It’s about time,” she said.
    He reached out, tentatively, and traced the back of his hand down her cheek. She leaned in to the touch, and he tasted her sweet breath, kissing her. It was soft at first, hesitant, but it deepened as she responded, becoming something with a life of its own, something hungry and passionate, something that had been building inside him for over a year without his knowing.
    Some time later, their lips parted with a soft pop, and theysmiled nervously. Arms around one another, they looked out over Miln, sharing in the glow of young love.
    “You’re always staring out into the valley,” Mery said. She ran her fingers through his hair, and kissed his temple. “Tell me what you dream about, when your eyes have that faraway look.”
    Arlen was quiet for some time. “I dream of freeing the world from the corelings,” he said.
    Her thoughts having gone another way, Mery laughed at the unexpected response. She did not mean to be cruel, but the sound cut at him like a lash. “You think yourself the Deliverer, then?” she asked. “How will you do this?”
    Arlen drew away from her a little, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ll start by messaging. I’ve already saved enough money for armor and a horse.”
    Mery shook her head. “That will never do, if we’re to marry,” she said.
    “We’re to marry?” Arlen asked in surprise, amazed at the tightness in his throat.
    “What, am I not good enough?” Mery asked, pulling away and looking indignant.
    “No! I never said …” Arlen stuttered.
    “Well, then,” she said. “Messaging may bring money and honor, but it’s too dangerous, especially once we have children.”
    “We’re having children now?” Arlen squeaked.
    Mery looked at him as if he were an idiot. “No, it will never do,” she went on, ignoring him as she thought things through. “You’ll need to be a Warder, like Cob. You’ll still get to fight demons, but you’ll be safe with me instead of riding down some coreling-infested road.”
    “I don’t want to be a Warder,” Arlen said. “It was never more than a means to an end.”
    “What end?” Mery asked. “Lying dead on the road?”
    “No,” Arlen said. “That won’t happen to me.”
    “What will you gain as a Messenger that you can’t as a Warder?”
    “Escape,” Arlen said without thinking.
    Mery fell silent. She turned her head to avoid his eyes, and after a few moments, slipped her arm from his. She sat quietly, and Arlen found sadness only made her more beautiful still.
    “Escape from what?” she asked at last. “From me?”
    Arlen looked at her, drawn in ways he was only just beginningto understand, and his throat caught. Would it be so bad to stay? What were the chances of finding another like Mery?
    But was that enough? He’d never wanted family. They were attachments he did not need. If he had wanted marriage and children, he might as well have stayed in Tibbet’s Brook with Renna. He’d thought Mery was different …
    Arlen called to mind the image that had sustained him for the last three years, seeing himself riding down the road, free to roam. As always, the thought swelled him, until he turned to look again at Mery. The fantasy fled, and all he could think about was kissing her again.
    “Not you,” he said, taking her hands. “Never you.” Their lips met again, and for a time, his thoughts touched on nothing else.
    “I have an assignment to Harden’s Grove,” Ragen said, referring to a small farming hamlet a full day’s ride from Fort Miln. “Would you care to join me, Arlen?”
    “Ragen, no!” Elissa cried.
    Arlen glared, but Ragen grabbed his arm before he could speak. “Arlen, may I have a moment alone with my wife?” he asked gently. Arlen wiped his mouth and excused himself.
    Ragen closed the door after him, but Arlen refused to let his fate be decided out of his hands, and circled around through the kitchen, listening at the servants’ entrance. The cook looked at him, but Arlen looked right back, and the man kept to his own business.
    “He’s too young!” Elissa was saying.
    “Lissa, he’ll always be too young for you,” Ragen said. “Arlen is sixteen, and he’s old enough to make a