The rumors started when the gifts began arriving. The Obsidian who brought them spoke no Aledan, just “Bride of Eoin” to whoever would point him in the right direction. First was a dagger—a wicked blade of obsidian with a white handle of polished antler. Kindra’s heart leapt at the beauty of it, although she took it with a scowl.

A few days later it was obsidian-tipped arrows with a matching bow. People began whispering as she walked by.

“Did she accept the gifts?” A woman said as she passed to test the arrows against a tree.

“Looks like,” another woman answered. “Why are the Obsidians sending gifts? Surely not for the wedding?”

“Will there be a wedding? I haven’t seen her and Gar together in almost a moon.”

“My cousin in Fie Ronna said she was there for a dress two days ago.”

Kindra picked up her pace so she couldn’t hear them anymore. Every time she thought of Gar, she felt sick.

A necklace of obsidian came next, and the man told Kindra she was to wear it at the wedding. She stared back at him, face impassive. “No.”

Hair pins came four days later, and she sent them back. When the courier returned the next day, he shoved the pins back into her palm. “Yes.”

By the end of the next moon, Kindra had the dagger, arrows, necklace, pins, a new cloak, a brooch to hold it closed, two dresses in the Obsidian style, a pair of slippers, and a dog that she gave to the children who wouldn’t leave Eoin alone.

She also had a black eye. Someone figured out that it was Obsid she was marrying, and the tribe exploded in anger. She couldn’t leave her tent without Monk to escort her through the village, and she couldn’t tell the tribe the real reason she was marrying Obsid without causing a true rebellion. Someone would kill Oak, and then the Obsidians would destroy the Seven Tribes.

The only place Kindra felt safe was Eoin’s pen. She was the only one who could come near him without being hurt, aside the High Priestess, and she spent the majority of her days there, with Monk sitting just outside the pen.

“You better hope that black eye goes away before the wedding,” he said. His arms were draped over the fence, and he was watching the horse run circles around Kindra and the pen.

“I think it will go nicely with the necklace,” she said. “Maybe I should have asked the Ronnans to make my dress black too.”

“It would match your mood.”

She eyed him, but didn’t glare. Monk had sacrificed a lot to be her guard. He was taking almost as much abuse as she was, and he did it without complaint.

Eoin circled the pen two more times before Kindra tired of watching him. She walked to the fence where Monk stood and leaned back against it. Eoin began bucking and jumping, making his annoyed 'puh' noise. He did that every time she left the pen.

“Can I ask you a favor?” she said as she watched the horse thrash.

“Walk you back to your tent? Keep the hoards of angry Aledans from attacking you? Arrange a midnight tryst with your true beloved?”

She rolled her eyes, then stilled and looked at him. When she spoke, her voice was little more than a whisper. “When my sister returns, don’t let her come to Fie Obsid.”

His jovial expression sobered, and he nodded. “I promise.”

Kindra looked back to the horse. She couldn’t imagine anything worse than having to greet her sister as the wife of Obsid.