Gar stabbed two Obsidians before they got the dagger away from him. They beat him until blood ran down his face and puddled beneath him from the wound on his back. Then they tied his hands behind him, dragged him outside to the training grounds, and deposited him next to Monk, who grinned.

"That was the most exciting wedding I've ever been to."

Gar frowned and tried to adjust his weight so he wasn't cutting off the circulation to his hands. It was difficult because he couldn't shift one side of his body. "I can't feel my leg."

Monk looked up and his smile disappeared as Petoskey, Oak, and the High Priestess were brought out. "I don't think you'll have long to worry about it."

Oak looked haggard, but not beaten, and Gar wondered at the bindings around his wrists. If he was the Obsidian's puppet chief, why hadn't they set him free? Perhaps Obsid wanted to put an Obsidian in power instead, so a rebellion like this would never happen again.

Petoskey looked much worse. A gaping, bloody hole was where his right eye ought to be, and he limped heavily. Monk let out a long breath at the sight.

The High Priestess was unharmed, although someone else's blood stained her dress. She was not restrained by anything except her own inhuman calm as she stood next to her brother, who glared at her. She didn’t look at him.

"And now we all die," Monk said. "How do you think they'll do it? Knife to the throat? Spear through the heart?"

Pike walked out from the tents and into the open, a sword too large for him to properly wield in his hand. Gar recognized it immediately—it was the oldest and finest in Fie Eoin. It was the sword of the Odion Family, passed down from chief to chief until Fennec's death.

"Or maybe a sword to the back of the neck," Gar said softly. So this is how they would die—by a sword they fought to protect, in the hands of a boy who should never have been named as one of Eoin's chosen. The only thing that made Gar feel better was the fact that he couldn't find his parents in the crowd of people being held in the horse's pen. The horse had fled at the first screams, and it seemed Pike would spare his own mother and father, at least.

Pike looked at the trees surrounding them. He held the sword so everyone could see and yelled at the forest. "You can stop this, Nameless! All you have to do is show yourself. Your life for theirs."

The tribe waited with held breath, but the woods were silent except for the rattle of the wind through the budding branches. Gar knew that if Kindra were out there, she would have attacked by now.

"Coward!" Pike screamed. "Their blood is on your hands!" He turned with wild eyes and motioned to the Obsidians, who dragged Oak over while Pike readied his sword. Oak struggled, speaking quickly in a language Gar didn't know.

Monk laughed and spoke loud enough for the people in the pen to hear. "If our puppet chief was speaking Aledan, you would all hear his confession of being on the side of the Obsidians right now."

Pike and Oak turned their dark eyes on him, but Monk kept talking.

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"He sold us to our enemies, ended Fennec's life, and refused to give Kindra her warrior name so he could have power."

Upon hearing Kindra's name Pike's face soured. "She is a traitor; she has no warrior name. Shut your mouth before I cut your tongue out."

"Kindra sold herself to Obsid to buy the freedom of the Seven Tribes. She was trying to save you all and you spit on her!" Monk strained against his bindings, and in that moment Gar had never loved him more.

A murmur went up among the Aledans and Pike walked over and grabbed Monk by the hair, wrenching his head back so his neck was exposed. "Do you want to be first?"

Monk eyed the blade. "That depends. Do you plan to clean the sword between murders?"

Gar thought he was going to witness the death of his best friend right then, but Pike shoved Monk's head down instead and walked back to Oak. At a nod, the Obsidians pushed him to his knees.

"Oak Conal," Pike's voice rang out over them all, "what do you say to these charges?"

Oak gasped. "I named you! I named you for the God! A name like your brother's!"

Gar may have been the only one to see the tick of Pike's eye at that. May have been the only one to realize that Oak just damned himself. The crowd gasped as Pike lifted the sword in an arc and Oak ducked his head in a desperate attempt to get away. With a sickening thud it embedded itself at the base of his skull.

Even Gar winced.

Oak fell forward, paralyzed from the blow but not dead yet. Pike tried to lift the sword, but it was stuck in the bone. He finally put a foot on the back of Oak's neck and heaved the sword out. Women and men both cried out or began retching in the pen.

Pike swung again and Gar could feel his stomach contract as the ill-manned sword went into Oak's shoulders. He'd promised the twins he would make Oak suffer, but not like this. Bryant was right—no man deserved this bad a death.

On the third try, Pike finally hit straight and the sword went most of the way through. Oak was bleeding and would be dead soon if he wasn't already. Even Pike looked a little pale.

He flicked his hand, and the Obsidians deposited him at the High Priestess' feet. She knelt and put a hand over his eyes, then began the prayer of death—giving him back to Aleda. Her calm finally broke as it ended, and tears streamed down her face as she kissed her brother's forehead and covered his face with her hands.

Pike's eyes turned to Petoskey, and he motioned the warrior forward. To the man's credit, he stepped up to Pike willingly. Gar wondered if Pike could go through the humiliation of not beheading someone again.

"Kneel," Pike said.

Monk tried to stand. "No! He deserves a better death than Oak." An Obsidian hit him until he fell, and Pike turned.

"Do you want to be next?"

"So you can embarrass yourself again?" Monk spat.

Pike's lips became a thin line, but Petoskey spoke in a calm voice. "Be still, Thomas. You'll get your turn."

Pike grinned. "Yes, Thomas. You'll get your turn soon enough."

Petoskey wasn't done. "I die honorably protecting those I love. I die by an enemy sword, even if it's but a boy who wields it."

"I’m no boy!" Pike turned back to him, grip white-knuckled on the sword.

Petoskey's look turned pitying. "Oak just admitted he gave you a name that wasn't yours. One to match your brother's because you had none of your own."

"Shut up."

"He gave you Kindra Odion's name."

Pike yelled and drove the sword into Petoskey's chest. The warrior's mouth turned up just briefly before he fell to the ground, blood soaking the grass. Monk let out a long breath, and if Gar had been able to, he would have reached over and touched his shoulder. It was a relief that Petoskey died quickly.

Except that Monk was next in line to be chief, unless Osprey materialized. He would be the next victim.

Pike seemed only to care about Petoskey's claim, and screamed at the woods again. "Come out now, Nameless, or I will kill your sister!"

He stopped screaming and leaned back a little. Something in his face stilled and terror crawled up Gar's spine. Whatever Pike planned to do to Kaye was much worse than death.

He turned suddenly, sheathing the bloody sword. "Priestess, follow me." Then he marched into the village.

For once Monk did not say a word in jest and Gar looked at him, panicking.