A Place To Bloom

The Best Friend

"Caleb, you're going to die."

I sat across from Dariana in the empty tavern. She wore a thick braid of light-green hair with streaks of yellow about her crown and let the rest fall down her back. She'd changed something since leaving to pour us drinks—the top several buttons of her blouse had been undone down to her blue apron.

Before each of us was a quart mug of wood slats with iron rings around the top and bottom like a small barrel, topped with white foam that filled the air with bold promises. I glanced at her mug, then my own, and she erupted in laughter. In unison, we each hoisted our drinks. I poured that sharp liquid down my throat as fast as I possibly could, struggling with the reflex to take a break. I forced it down to the foam when I heard her mug slam back onto the table.

She wiped drips from her chin and smiled wide at me. I scrunched my nose and put my cup down. Then I took it up again and sipped, allowing the bitter ale to saturate my tongue; I needed that. "Most people die at some point in their lives, usually towards the end of it."

Dariana rolled her eyes at me and shook her head. "You're going off to war. If they were sending you to Kulun, I'd tell you to keep quiet and don't stand out. But Carthia... no one survives Carthia."

I breathed in deep and caught the sage and dmusu, carried in by the mist from the planter just outside the window. Beside the bar was the narrow staircase that led up to the guest rooms. And to think, had her mother not caught us in one of those rooms, I wouldn't be going off to die a virgin. "Surely someone's made it out alive? People live there, right?"

Dariana sat up straight and lowered her light-green eyes to the dregs in her cup. "Carthia is a death trap. I hear things. The Empire doesn't want people talking about it, but I hear things. They've been doing this for years—call up men, they die, call up some more, they die, and call up some more. If rumors are true, these past few months have been especially bad; there's been talk of petitioning the Duke to put an end to it."

"How are they dying?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "It's a war, Caleb."

"Do you..." I needed a moment for the words to catch up to where my mind was trying to go, so I took another sip. I felt her foot brush against my leg beneath the table. I asked, "what's... what's it like? Uh... what's there?"

Dariana shrugged and looked blankly down at the table. "Pirates, black magic, monsters in the woods..."

The door thudded open, and Sarina's boots clicked over the stone floor as she rushed towards us. She glanced at me, then at Dariana. Then she looked between our empty mugs, looked at her again, and turned to face me. "We need to talk."

Dariana swooned. "Hello, Sarina. How are you?"

Sarina fixed her black eyes onto my drinking companion. "I'm sorry. Hello, how are you?" Then she turned back to me. "We need to talk."

I nodded and shifted in my seat. I stood, then turned back to Dariana and waited a moment for the room to follow. "Father Yewan has dinner planned in the great hall this evening. Will I see you there?"

Dariana's light-green eyes sparkled at me. "Of course!"

With that, I took Sarina's hand, and she towed me back outside only to smash the top of my head against the door jamb on our way out. I tried to rub the shooting pain out of my skull, but Sarina kept tugging at my wrist.

Outside, the rain had mostly abated, and swords of light shot through the clouds high in the mountains. I was still reeling from the pain of bumping my head when she turned to speak. "I spoke to Lady Wynice. She says they're sending you to some place called Carthia. She says no one ever comes back alive from there."