The only weapon Kindra took with her was her father’s spear, to remind Obsid that she was an Odion and did not fear him or his warriors. He met them at the riverside, dressed in what she could only assume was his best, and smiled like a man who had just won everything he had ever wanted.

“She may keep her spear,” he said as his men unarmed Monk and Wolf. “I like the look of the blade against her bright hair." His calloused fingers picked up a strand. "Quite lovely.”

Kindra had to stop herself from smacking his hand away. She walked stiffly next to him as he led her to the great house.

“Please,” he swept his arm out and bowed slightly to her as they reached the door. She walked in first and waited for him to take the lead again. “You’ve seen all this before,” he said, still smiling. “Let’s go to my rooms, and I will show you what will be yours.”

She turned to look at Monk, panicking, but Obsid chuckled. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t take advantage before we are married. I have patience. After all, it is you who came to me.”

Kindra swallowed the bile in her throat and followed him through the curtain and into his private rooms. It was warm with the curtains and rugs, and a low, earthy smell rose from a bowl on a small table. It masked the stench of too-many bodies that permeated the rest of the great house.

“I must admit, I was surprised to hear that you changed your mind,” Obsid said as he offered her a chair.

She sat on the edge of it, her spear at attention in her left hand. “I’m a warrior. It’s my duty to give my life for the tribe.”

His smile was playful and dangerous. “Is that what this is? A sacrifice?”

“If it wasn’t a sacrifice, you wouldn’t have accepted.”

His smile widened. “You’re a very smart woman.” At a wave of his hand a girl, several summers younger than Kindra, bowed into the room with a platter of food and wine. Unlike the Seven Tribes, which were always starving by this time of the winter, the Obsidians had Deer Valley, and all the food Oak had been sending. There was venison, freshly killed and roasted, and a stew of dried apples and hare. Kindra looked away.

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The chief was nonplussed, and began eating as her stomach cramped at the wonderful smell. “I assume,” he said between bites, “Monkey told you my conditions and that’s why you’re here.”

She nodded.

“Well then, let’s hear it. I am a patient man, but I think you’ll want to get home and spend as much time as possible with your family before you are separated from them.”

She glared at him. “I have no family; you took them from me. My father and mother. My sister. And now you will take me.”

His smile dropped from his face. “Don’t be dramatic. It doesn’t suit you.”

She straightened her shoulders. “Chief Obsid, I agree to be your wife in exchange for the freedom of the Seven Tribes and hunting rights in the valley.”

He lifted his eyebrow. “Monkey said nothing about Deer Valley.”

“I make my own deals. You offered hunting rights for my sister, and I will take no less.”

He sat back and chewed thoughtfully, staring at the pattern of the curtain behind her. “You are becoming very expensive.”

“I am the last living descendant of the Odion. You take me, and you leave the Seven Tribes with no one of the God’s line.”

“Your people will let you go so easily?”

“I marry who I chose.” She looked at the rug; if only that were true.

Chief Obsid wiped his hands and grabbed the cups, handing one to her. “Good. Then we are agreed. Your people get their freedom and hunting rights in the valley after my son is born. If you decide otherwise, or kill Oak before we're married, I will destroy the Seven Tribes. We’ll marry in Fie Eoin after the snow melts.”

“In Fie Eoin?” Kindra had assumed she could leave the Seven Tribes quietly, without the people knowing what she had done.

“Yes. I don’t want anyone causing a war because they think I’ve kidnapped you. I’ve already lost a chair to one of your men.”

Gar. Her hands shook and she spilled wine on the rug.

Obsid tsked and the quiet girl—who Kindra had forgotten all about—rushed to clean it. When she finished, he raised his glass. “To our agreement.”

“To our agreement,” she said quietly and took a sip. It was good wine.

“Now run home to that chair-breaking man," he waved her away. "And don’t get yourself pregnant or I will rip that bastard child out with my bare hands. I will not be cuckolded by an Aledan bitch.”