Although it was pouring cold rain, Kindra smelled like wet horse and bathed quickly in the icy water of the river. It left her fingers and toes numb, and Gar wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and ushered her back to her tent.

It was pleasantly warm inside. He built the fire up while she dripped on the rugs, the cloak wrapped tight around her although it was just as wet. When he stood and looked at her, a hungry expression burned in his eyes that made her stomach clench with desire. He stepped forward, wove his hands under the cloak to grab her hips and kissed her deeply.

The cloak fell away as she moved her hands to his mark. She traced the pattern, and he sucked in a quick, heavy breath. When his warm fingers found her mark, she pressed her body against his and pushed him backwards until he was sitting on her cot. She crawled on top of him and pulled his shirt off as he kissed her neck, her breasts, her stomach. He flipped her over and continued down her hips to her thighs. She gasped as he parted her legs and his tongue slid inside.

“Oh,” she breathed and arched her back. She suddenly regretted never properly going to Trina’s Day. She’d made out with Gar at the last Feast of Lovers, but they’d been interrupted by Jor before they got any further. Although Kindra wouldn’t admit it, she’d wanted to finish what she’d started with Gar ever since.

Her breath quickened and she pulled him up, unable to wait through the teasing any longer. He pulled his pants down to his ankles and entered her as she bit his lip and dug her short nails into his back. He groaned and pushed as deep as he could go.

She rose to meet him as he thrust faster, and their bodies shook as they held each other tight and finished. He collapsed on top of her, kissing her face and neck as she breathed heavy and shuddered. They lay like that for a long time before he brought his head up from her chest to look at her.

He ran his hands through her hair. His breathing changed, and he kissed her quickly. “I’ll be back.”

Kindra’s head was still foggy. “What? Where are you going?”

He kissed her again and pulled his pants up. “Home, for just a moment. Don’t worry, Monk is outside. No one will hurt you.”

She wasn’t worried about that. What could he possibly need from home, though? His sword was here, and his dagger. She had two spears and there was plenty of food. What more could he need?

He stopped at the door and looked at her with an expression she had never seen on his face. Like he was trying to memorize the way she looked just then. He turned and was out before she could say anything.

Kindra lay down and tried not to think about it. When she heard footsteps outside, she propped herself up, but he didn’t come in. She stood and walked to the door, but stopped as she heard the low sounds of a flute. That couldn’t be Gar. Why would he do that now, of all times? They had bigger things to worry about than planning a wedding.

Kindra rested her forehead against the door frame and listened. It was a good song—he’d obviously been practicing. Knowing Gar, the flute was of good construction, thoughtfully carved with symbols that would mean something to her. But why now?

Because he knew she would accept it now. There was no question in the song—it said simply ‘I am yours. Forever’. And as she listened to the notes play against the cold night air, she knew that she was his too. Had been, for a long time. She just couldn’t admit it before now.

Kindra opened the tent flap before he finished, and Gar looked up. The song may not have questioned her, but his eyes did. ‘Will you accept this?’ they asked. ‘Have I earned your love, despite everything?’ She pulled him inside and kissed him deeply.