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[Arcana]

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“Arcy, I need to talk to you. There’s a problem,” Arlin said quietly in her ear, for once not whispering something that made her cheeks flush scarlet.

She nodded assent, and he lead her from the common room of the Garden, absently returning salutes from his soldiers. Once in relative privacy, Arlin began without preamble, clearly upset. “One of them OES captured four civilians – innocent women – an’ says he’ll kill ‘em unless I hand over Tai… I can’t stop them, and I can’t ask Tai to do that, either.”

“Why would they do this?” Arcana asked, gazing up at him in concern. “Why Tai?”

“T’ prove a point. That I’ll always have blood on mah hands, no matter what I do.” His shoulders slumped wearily.

Arlin did indeed have less than honorable blood on his hands, but this was entirely different. “The followers of the Ebon Skull are the ones who do this, not you. Why not attempt a rescue?”

“They could still die,” he said in a low voice.

Arcana nodded sadly, taking his large, calloused hands in her far smaller ones, squeezing them, trying to lend him strength. “Yes, they might. But if you do nothing, then someone will assuredly die.”

Arlin looked down at their hands and said in a flat voice, “They wouldn’t die if I handed mahself over. They’d probably just torture me for a while, then let me go.”

Arcana felt the blood drain from her face. “Arlin… no…” she murmured earnestly, gazing at him intently. He still looked down, not meeting her eyes, and his shoulders had that defeated slump that so tugged at her heart. Yet she also felt a fierce pride in him and how much he had changed. Not so very long ago, the lever of an innocent life would have exerted very little pressure on the often ruthless ex-mercenary. She stepped closer, so that he had to meet her eyes.

“They do this in revenge for your victory,” she said vehemently, her anger at OES apparent in her voice. “They want your despair. You’d be giving them exactly what they want. Don’t do it. Fight them!”

Arlin was silent a moment, then a toothy grin slowly spread across his face, suddenly brimming with its customary confidence. “Yer right. And you just gave me th’ perfect idea.” He wrapped his muscular arms around her and kissed her forehead tenderly. “I’m sorry for scarin’ you.”

Arcana let out a relived breath and forced a faint smile. “I’d just have had to come and rescue you.”

He grinned down at her, tangling his fingers in her long hair. “I don’t know what I’d do without you… tavern wenches all over Sosaria would be glad, though.”

Arcana shoved him, not entirely playfully, for the oft-repeated joke. “That’s not funny right now!”

He couldn’t help a smirk. While he found her particularly appealing when angry – some of their best times together had begun with her trying to injure him – he conceded that she probably had a point. He converted his smirk to a contrite smile and pulled her close. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Arcana smiled and shook her head helplessly; he was incorrigible. Arlin, knowing himself forgiven, bent his head to kiss her passionately. He broke the kiss after a long moment, leaving her breathless.

“I’ve got plans to make, Arcy.” And after another quick kiss on her forehead, he was gone.