The warriors left by canoe well before dawn to arrive in Fie Obsid at a reasonable time. Delegations had to arrive by canoe—an Aledan caught walking into Obsidian Territory was considered a threat. Moving upriver in winter would be hard, but faster and less hassle than walking through the snow. And Oak’s warriors couldn’t stop them if they were in the water.

They were to Fie Obsid by late morning, and Obsidian warriors surrounded them before they had a chance to dock. At least Monk had come on official visits before and knew what to do. A few words of Obsidian and they were being led to the chief.

At the great house they were stopped, and one guard entered as the others gathered the Aledan’s weapons. It didn’t take long to be allowed in to the see the chief, and Gar looked around the great house, trying to picture Kindra living there. She would hate it—there was no privacy.

They stopped before Chief Obsid and bowed. “Ah, Monkey Preston. It’s been a long time since last you came here. What brings you to Fie Obsid?”

“I was here a few moons ago with the High Priestess. To retrieve a warrior.”

Obsid smiled. “Ah yes, the Bride of Eoin. You’ll forgive me if I didn’t notice you, I was pre-occupied.”

Gar’s hands folded into fists and his father glanced at him. He knew what it meant: ‘be careful or you’ll give yourself away’.

“I’ve heard,” Monk continued, “that you want to steal our God’s bride for yourself.” Obsid lifted an eyebrow, but nodded him on. “I’ve also heard that you own the Seven Tribes.”

The chief’s face didn’t change, but he rose from his chair. “Let us talk with a little more privacy. Come.”

He led them through the curtain behind his chair and into his personal rooms. Rugs covered the ground, thick curtains adorned the wall, and there was a small table with incense to keep out the worst of the smells. It was as private as a great house room could get.

A girl with obsidian-dark hair and a fine black dress pulled four chairs into a circle, bowed, and scurried into an adjoining room without looking at anyone. “My daughter,” Obsid said with a dismissive wave of his hand. At least Kindra would have another female in the rooms, but the girl was so meek Gar knew Kindra wouldn’t like her.

“Now then,” Obsid settled himself into his chair and leaned back as the Aledan’s sat. “Who told you I own the Seven Tribes?”

Monk sat, but he didn’t look as comfortable as Obsid. “Chief Oak.”

Obsid’s mouth twitched. It appeared he didn't want that information known. “Brave man. Or stupid.”

“Trusting. He knows that if we kill him and take the Seven Tribes back you will deliver swift retribution.”

Obsid nodded. “Which is, I assume, the only reason my puppet chief is still alive right now.”

Monk smiled. “We’ve come to buy back the Seven Tribes.”

The chief laughed, tipping his chair back until Gar was sure it would fall out from under him. He wished it would. “What could you possibly offer me that’s worth the entire Seven Tribes?”

Monk looked at Gar and Wolf, then turned back to Obsid and licked his lips. “The last Odion warrior. The Bride of Eoin. And perhaps, in time, a son.”

The mirth drained from Obsid’s features and he sat up straight. “That’s quite the proposal. One woman, for all the Aledans in Camden Valley.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, a noise that grated into Gar’s head and made him want to rip Obsid’s arms off. “And you can guarantee she would come willingly, unlike her murderous sister?”

“It was her idea,” Monk said. “She has offered herself to you, in payment for the Seven Tribes.”

Obsid chewed his lower lip, fingers still drumming. Gar’s own fingers were gripping the arms of his chair so tight he thought they might snap. He silently willed Obsid to say no. Silently begged Aleda that the chief would refuse, and they would have to find some other way to rid themselves of the Obsidians.

“I want to hear it for myself,” Obsid finally said. “I want you to bring her here and let her say she will be mine. When you do that and we are married, Oak and the Seven Tribes are yours.”

The arm of Gar’s chair snapped off in his hand, and he looked at it, numb. He had lost Kindra.