Kindra woke twisted in her blankets, back itching and painful. She must have scratched it in her sleep; it was the only time she couldn't keep her fingers away from the healing wounds. Kaye insisted on rubbing ash in the mark again last night. It was supposed to irritate the wounds, giving the scars a dark color, and making them stick out once they healed so her mark would always be visible. It must be working; as Kindra tentatively touched one of the welts she could feel the heat rising from it, and it took all of her self-possession to not scratch.

Where was Kaye anyway? Her cot was empty, her white cloak hung on a peg by the door. Kindra's cloak was missing.

"Thank you, dear sister," she mumbled. How was she supposed to show her face at practice with a priestess cloak on? The new warriors had been given time for their marks to heal, but she’d be expected to return to practice today. The “nameless warrior" couldn't afford to come to practice in a shimmery-white priestess cloak.

Kaye was probably on the cliff, and if Kindra hurried she could get her own cloak back before practice.

Kindra opened the tent flap far enough to squeeze out so a draft wouldn't rush inside. It wasn't as cold as she anticipated, but she was glad for Kaye’s cloak and wrapped it around her chest for warmth. Her feet crunched on the frost, silencing the early morning birds, and she followed her sister's footsteps to the forest.

Just as she anticipated, Kaye was on the cliff. What Kindra hadn’t anticipated was Gar standing with her, Kaye’s head resting on his shoulder. As Kindra stepped out of the trees, Kaye saw her and took a step back. Gar turned, and although Kindra expected a joke about the priestess cloak, all he said was hello before he looked away again. They hadn’t spoken since the Warrior’s Ceremony and she wondered if he was still hurt over her dismissal.

Kindra nodded to him before frowning at her sister. “Was it your plan to make me practice in this?” She held the edges of the shimmery fabric out around her.

Kaye smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “We were just about to return, based on the sun. Walk with us?”

“Of course.” Kindra waited at the tree line for them. Kaye linked her arm through Gar’s again and Kindra wished her sister wasn’t a priestess. Kaye would make a perfect wife. She had easy smiles where Kindra’s were forced, and patience when Kindra wanted only to fight. And there was no denying Kaye’s beauty. Even if Kindra hadn’t become a warrior, her sister’s natural grace would always outshine her.

There was a snap in the forest and Gar threw his arm out to stop Kaye. Kindra froze. Voices whispered through the trees, and another snap sounded.

Gar put his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Show yourself.” He was the only one with a weapon, except for the dagger Kindra always carried in her belt.

A man stepped out of the woods. He was lean and pale, with straight black hair that fell to his shoulders, brown eyes, and a necklace of obsidian beads. There was one bead for each man he’d killed in battle, and an arrowhead signifying he’d killed a chief. Kindra bristled.

“Warrior,” the man bowed his head. Five other Obsidians stepped out from the trees. They all held spears tipped with the sharp obsidian blades the Nation was named for.

Gar shoved Kaye behind him and squared his shoulders. “You’re trespassing on Aledan land.”

The man smiled as if Gar told a joke. “We mean no harm. We’ll be on our way and leave you to your…diversion.” He looked the twins up and down and Kindra stepped forward, her hand on the dagger in her belt. She was no one’s diversion.

He looked at her, cocked his head to the side, and frowned. When he spoke it was in Obsidian. “You are the little female god?”

How had the Obsidians heard of ‘The Bride of Eoin’? “I am.”

“Kindra,” Kaye whispered. “What are you doing?”

The Obsidian eyed Gar for a moment, then spoke to Kindra. “You will follow me then.”

“I will not.” Kindra glared at him. Who was this Obsidian to tell her what to do? She was the Bride of Eoin, the last Odion warrior.

Kaye stepped around Gar. He grabbed her arm, but she pierced him with a look only a priestess could give. Gar dropped his hand and some of the Obsidians snickered.

“Corbin Marcello,” she bowed. “What do you want with her?”

Corbin looked from one to the other. Twins were as rare in the Nation as they were in the Seven Tribes, and he was probably trying to decide who to speak to. In the Seven Tribes it would be the priestess, but the Obsidians had no priestesses. He may turn to the warrior.

He turned to Kaye, in the warrior cloak, and spoke rapidly in Obsidian. As a priestess, she was nearly fluent. Kindra couldn’t keep up, but when Kaye’s face paled Kindra grabbed her hand. “What?”

Kaye turned her back on Corbin—something a warrior would never do—and spoke under her breath. “The ‘little female god’ is their phrase for a priestess. They’re here for the High Priestess.”

“Why didn’t they send someone downriver, like normal?” Gar asked.

Kindra glanced at the cliff behind them as realization dawned on her. “Because it’s easier to coerce the High Priestess while she’s on the cliff with only other priestesses for protection.” What a dirty trick for the Obsidians to play. They kidnapped the last High Priestess while she was in Fie Obsid, the head village of the Nation. That was why the Aledans went to war against the Obsidians even though they knew they couldn’t win.

“Why coerce her when she’d willingly speak with their chief?” Gar said.

Kaye leaned forward. “Because she’s been promised in marriage to him.”

“What?” Kindra and Gar said together.

“Are you sure he meant the High Priestess?” Gar said. “Not even Oak has the authority to promise her in marriage.”

Kaye nodded. “I’m sure. He said the ‘witch’—that means Faye, and she’s the only Faye priestess.”

Kindra and Gar shared a glance, and fear trickled through her veins, ice cold. “What if they mean you?”

Kaye shook her head. "I'm not a priestess."

"To them you are," Gar said. Kaye had traveled with the High Priestess to Fie Obsid many times. They would know her as a priestess of Fie Eoin.

"But why would they want me? I can't do anything yet. I have no power."

A wave of disappointment and despair washed over Kindra, an echo of raw emotions Kaye hadn’t bothered to hide this time. Kindra knew how her sister felt, of course, but to feel it so viscerally was new. She hadn’t been aware how deeply those emotions ran.

One of the Obsidians shifted, and Kindra pushed the feeling radiating from their bond away to focus on the immediate threat. She addressed Corbin in Aledan, so Gar would understand. “When was this alleged promise made?”

Corbin looked between her and Kaye, but this time he spoke to Kindra. “It was part of the peace agreement between our chiefs. We won Deer Valley and the witch. She was to marry Chief Obsid’s son when the time came, but he has no sons. Now she will give him sons.”

“My father wouldn’t make that deal.” Kindra grabbed the dagger from her belt. “You’ll go now, empty-handed, and tell your chief that we don’t sell priestesses.”

“I will not leave without the witch.” Corbin’s hand moved to rest on his own dagger, and although his men wouldn’t understand his words, they understood his tone. They shifted their weight to prepare for a fight.

“You will. Or you’ll leave without a head.”

“Kindra,” Gar stepped closer. “We don’t want a fight. We’ll take them to the High Priestess, and she can resolve this herself.”

“She’s not the one they came for and you know it.”

“Put away your dagger before you start a war.”

A war was exactly what she needed to complete her mark. Her fingers tightened around the handle of her dagger, but Gar grabbed her arm. “There are too many of them. You can’t be named if you’re dead.”

He was right. If she had her spear, she and Gar could take on six men and win, but with just a dagger it would be impossible. Probably. Her gaze swept over the group of Obsidians, calculating. They had spears and daggers, no swords – all she had to do was get within their spear’s reach, so the tip was no longer viable. She could rush Corbin. He didn’t even have a spear, just a dagger, and she could easily knock it aside. Gar could take care of the three men closest to him. After Corbin, Kindra might be able to catch the man next to him before he gutted her. The sixth man would certainly kill her.

With reluctance, Kindra lowered the dagger. As soon as her hand dipped, Corbin grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back. Gar unsheathed his sword, and half a dozen spears were pointed at his chest. Kaye ducked away.

“Kindra!” she screamed from behind Gar.

“Get Oak,” Kindra said. Corbin was at her back with an obsidian blade at her throat, but she had her own blade tip between his ribs. She’d shove it in at the first move he made.

Gar’s sword was pointed harmlessly at Corbin as well. He’d be stabbed before he could land a blow. “Get Petoskey,” Gar growled, eyes flashing in rare anger.

Kaye stood behind him, wide-eyed. “The priestesses will be here soon.”

“Tell them to go home,” he said.

He wasn’t facing Kaye, but Kindra was. A trickle of warm blood ran down her throat from the sharp blade. Her iron blade wasn’t as sharp, but that wouldn’t matter if she shoved it into Corbin’s chest.

Kaye ran. That was all that mattered. Even if Corbin killed Kindra, her sister wouldn’t become a slave to the Obsidians.

“Put away your little knife, witch,” Corbin said. His hand didn’t twitch, or she’d have stabbed him already.

“I feel safer with it out.” She looked at Gar, not willing to nod and get her throat slit, but he understood the look. He reluctantly dropped his sword arm and the Obsidians relaxed their spears away from his chest. It was only Corbin and Kindra in a tense, frozen battle of wills.

Corbin whispered in her ear. “If you drop that knife, I’ll spare the warrior.”

Kindra’s gaze was caught on Gar’s. Every muscle in his body was ready to strike, despite his sword pointing at her feet. She knew he was fast—like his namesake he could strike without warning. If things went bad, she was counting on it.

“If I don’t drop the knife, you’ll spare the warrior.”

Corbin took a deep breath, the arrowhead around his neck poking her through the thin fabric of Kaye’s cloak. “I could cut your throat before you stabbed me.”

Kindra was still staring at Gar. “And I could stab you before you finished.”

Corbin’s breath slowed as he contemplated that. “You aren’t the witch, are you?”

“Doesn’t matter now, does it?”

The knife bit a little more deeply into her throat. She pushed the point of her blade a little further into his side.

“Who did you kill to get the arrowhead?” she asked.

“Doesn’t matter to you.”

“It might.” She was looking beyond Gar now, to the cliff he’d been standing with Kaye on. The cliff her father’s funeral pyre was held on. It was the last place she’d seen Fennec’s body, and she’d avoided it the last eight summers.

Corbin spoke in Aledan. “I killed a chief.”

“Which one?”

As he shrugged the blade moved against her throat. “He’s dead now.”

Kindra had been waiting for some imbalance on his part, and the shrug was it. His muscles relaxed just a moment, and she twisted his arm with the knife until she could slip free and get her own knife to his throat.

To her side was a grunt, then a yell cut abruptly short, and a few words in Obsidian she didn’t know, but guessed were curses. From the corner of her eye, she could see the tip of Gar’s sword, blood dripping from it as it pointed at the neck of one of the Obsidians.

“Gar?”

“Two down, one subdued.” His voice sounded wary but calm, not strained or scared, and her heart contracted with relief. “But there’s a spear at my back,” he continued, “so don’t do anything stupid.”

Corbin growled. “Listen to your friend, witch.”

Kindra was facing Corbin now, heart pounding, her dagger at his throat and his at her navel. She pushed the blade against his throat. “Which chief did you kill?”

His eyes smoldered with hatred. “If it was your daddy are you going to kill me?”

“Slowly, like my father died.” She took a deep breath. “Then I’m going to wear that arrowhead myself, so the Nation knows I killed the man who killed my father.”

“Kindra,” Gar warned. She couldn’t see him, but she could still see the point of his bloody sword and hear someone groaning on the ground next to him.

“Tell your men to stand down,” she told Corbin.

“Take your blade from my throat.”

“Once they’ve taken theirs from my friend.”

“Your friend injured two of my men.”

“And he’ll injure the rest if they don’t stand down. One Aledan warrior against three Obsidians. I like those odds.”

“Kindra,” Gar hissed. “Stop.”

Corbin stared her down for a moment, before speaking in his own language. “Stand down. I won’t be harmed by a girl.”

Reluctantly the Obsidians pulled their spears and stepped back. Corbin smiled. “Your turn.”

“I thought you weren’t afraid of being harmed by a girl.” She pressed her lips together and swallowed. If she cut his throat right now, she might have vengeance for her father. Corbin may not have been the one who killed her father. One chief-killing Obsidian was as good as another.

“Kindra Odion!” Oak’s voice rang over them all. “Step away from that man.”

The odds were on her side now as the chief and his honor guard arrived on the cliff. She couldn’t see much beyond Corbin’s face and the Obsidian Gar held at sword-point, but she could imagine the scene. Two Obsidians on the ground at Gar’s feet, another two at his back, and Kindra and Corbin at a lethal stand-still, nearly close enough to kiss. Oak would be furious that his precious peace was so close to collapse.

Corbin didn’t take his eyes from hers, but the knife point at her stomach eased. She brought her blade away from his throat a hair. His neck wasn’t bleeding like hers was.

“Truce?” Corbin said, a dangerous smile across his face.

Kindra’s chest heaved with her breath, and she kept her knife at his throat until Oak grabbed her arm, ripping her father’s dagger from her grasp. She had no choice except step back. Gar’s hand landed on her shoulder, more a warning than forgiveness.

Corbin rubbed his neck and bowed. “Chief Oak Conal.”

Oak gave a short bow in return. “Corbin Marcello. You didn’t come by river.”

“It didn’t seem necessary.” Corbin glanced at the two men on the ground, one moaning with his hands pressed to his belly, the other’s throat slit. “I see now that it was.”

“You realize how suspicious it looks with you sneaking up on us before sunrise.”

There was a commotion from the path as Petoskey and the rest of the warriors ran onto the cliff, surrounding the Obsidians.

Corbin eyed them warily, now vastly outnumbered. “We were promised the witch.”

Petoskey stepped forward. “You were promised no such thing. I was at the peace talks, and no one mentioned a wife.”

Corbin pierced him with a look. “If you refuse, we’ll return and take her by force. If you hand her over willingly, the Seven Tribes will be given hunting rights in the Valley upon the birth of Chief Obsid’s son.”

The warriors grew quiet. They would do almost anything for hunting rights in Deer Valley. Almost anything.

“We don’t sell priestesses,” Kindra reminded them.

Oak turned, eyes blazing in anger. “Keep her quiet.”

Gar pulled her further from the Obsidians and whispered in her ear. “We can’t win a war against the Nation. They’ll take Kaye either way.”

“No.” Kindra shook her head. She’d already lost her father to the Nation. She couldn’t lose Kaye too.

It was that unfortunate moment that Kaye came into sight on the path behind the Obsidians. Without thinking, Kindra stepped forward. “I’ll go with you,” she said to Corbin. “Give us hunting rights and I’ll go with you right now. Without a fight.”

Gar grabbed her arm, but she shrugged him off. She couldn’t let them take Kaye.

Corbin glared at her. “You aren’t the witch.”

She held out the edges of her cloak. “I am.”

“Show me your back.”

“I’ll show my future husband. Take me to him.”

Corbin looked from her, to Gar, to Oak. The chief was frozen in rage, but Kindra bet he wouldn’t say anything. He didn’t want her as a warrior—what better way to get her out of Fie Eoin for good?

Behind them all Kaye’s face paled and her mouth opened to protest, but no sound came out. Kindra knew she would be upset, but as long as she was safe in Fie Eoin it didn’t matter.

Corbin finally spoke in Obsidian. “If you are lying, Chief Obsid will destroy the Seven Tribes. You think it hurt watching your father die, girl? It will be much more painful to watch your entire tribe disappear. He’ll make you watch as he kills the real witch. Slowly.”

“This is nonsense,” Oak said. “Take them both. One of them is bound to give him a son.”

Petoskey turned on him. “You’re talking about giving the last of the Odion family to our enemies. Fennec would have died before he let them take either of his daughters.”

“Fennec’s dead.” Oak’s voice was so cold it sent a chill through Kindra. “I will not put the Seven Tribes at risk again because he dove head-first into a war he knew we couldn’t win.”

“For a priestess,” Petoskey reminded him.

“Kaye’s not a priestess.”

Kindra’s hands squeezed into fists as another wave of despair washed through her, before snuffing out of existence as her sister squashed it.

Kaye squeezed her eyes shut and bowed her head, then squared her shoulders. “He’s right,” she said, and the Obsidians nearest her turned in surprise. “I’ll go.”

“No!” Kindra yelled.

Kaye removed Kindra’s cloak and spread her wings. They caught the early morning sunlight and made the trees behind her shimmer through their translucence. The Obsidians—and some of the Aledans—stepped back as if she was dangerous. Even Kindra found the sight unsettling. Kaye never spread her wings.

“I’ll go with her,” Kindra said, but Corbin sneered at her.

“You’re no witch. My chief doesn’t want you.”

Kindra’s nails bit into her palms. “I don’t care. You can’t take her from me.”

“Kindra.” Kaye’s soft voice rose above the men separating them. “Wisdom to know when the fight is finished,” she quoted.

It wasn’t the words, but the feeling of determination that Kaye sent through their bond that broke her. Kindra dropped to her knees. That morning the worst thing she could imagine was never getting her warrior name. But Kaye leaving? That would destroy her.

“Please,” Kindra’s voice cracked as she tried to hold back her tears. “You’re the other half of my soul.”

“I will still be that, no matter where I am.”

Kindra remained on her knees, staring at the ground as Kaye spoke to Corbin. Gar’s hand touched her shoulder gently, but she shrugged it off again. How could Kaye agree to this? How could anyone have promised her in marriage in the first place? Eventually Kaye’s small hand touched Kindra’s shoulder. She knelt and wrapped her sister in a silent hug as the Aledan warriors began to lead the way to the village.

“I need to say goodbye to mother,” Kaye said, her arms tight around Kindra’s shoulders. “Come with me?”

“To the ends of the earth.” Kindra pressed her lips to Kaye’s hair.

Kaye squeezed her, then stood and held her hand out to help Kindra up.