Outside was chaos. The horse didn’t appreciate being thrust into the middle of the political turmoil any more than Kindra did, and was biting and kicking, trying to follow his herd home. Oak and his most trusted men hid in his tent with the High Priestess, and the rest of the tribe gossiped or argued about what the morning meant, and who was fit to lead Fie Eoin.

Kindra paced her tent as Petoskey and Wolf explained what should happen now that half the warriors had publicly defected to her. Cougar and Alder guarded the door while most of “her” warriors built a fence to hold the horse. The only one not doing anything worthwhile was Monk, who leaned on his elbows on the floor, grinning like a fool. She kicked his foot out of the way as she passed.

“That’s no way to treat the head of your Honor Guard.”

She stopped and scowled at him. “My Honor Guard? I don’t need a bunch of warriors following me. I can protect myself.”

Petoskey looked over. “So could Fennec, and he had an Honor Guard.”

“For all the good it did him,” Monk smirked, and Kindra kicked him again. He raised his eyebrows at her. “If you keep kicking me, I’m going to do to you what Oak did to your father.”

She glared at him. “Oak didn’t kill my father.”

“Oak was the head of Fennec’s Honor Guard. So where was he when three Obsidians attacked?”

Kindra crossed her arms. “Why don’t you tell me, since you were the one who broke the rules and went to the battle.”

“He wasn’t anywhere near your father. I can tell you that.”

Petoskey looked over again. “That’s enough, Thomas.”

Monk shrugged and Kindra sank onto her cot. Were the rumors true? Had Oak conspired to kill her father and make the Conals the most powerful family in the tribe? Fennec and Oak were never friends—why was he the head of Fennec’s guard?

“Who else is in my guard?”

“Who do you think? Cougar, Al and Gar.”

She frowned and he grinned again. “Really Gar should be the head, but you aren’t on speaking terms, even though he just declared his love for you in front of the entire tribe.”

Monk went too far with that. Kindra stood and brushed past him, not even stopping to kick his foot. She heard him rise and turned on him. “Don’t follow me. I don’t need your protection.”

He bowed, tattooed wrist out so she could see it. She spun on her heel and walked quickly into the woods near the river. When a branch snapped behind her she turned, fists clenched.

“I said I don’t need your protection,” she growled.

“Are you so sure?” Osprey stepped out of the trees. He held a spear, a grin crawling up his face. She glanced at the woods behind him, heart beginning to beat faster, but it seemed Monk had finally followed her instructions.

“I’m sure.” Her nose twitched as her mouth twisted up in a sneer.

He took a step forward, but she refused to back down. His smile grew. “I told you if you took the horse we were at war.”

“You should have thought of that when you allowed Pike to nearly kill me. It’s not very chiefly to watch a warrior beat a woman.”

“Even if the woman deserved it?” He took another step forward. The point of his spear hovered between them.

She stepped forward, hoping it would make him back off, but he didn’t move. “I fought him off without a weapon. Would you like a turn?”

“Love one.” He licked his lips. “I won’t stop when you’re on the ground. I won’t stop until you’re dead.”

She knocked the spear out of the way with her forearm and rushed him, but he danced out of the way and swung at her from the other direction. The shoulder Pike had mangled was still stiff, and Kindra couldn’t move fast enough to stop the blow. Pain radiated through her arm and she grabbed the shaft with her good hand, but Osprey ripped it back, the blade slicing her palm. He punched her in the jaw, right over the new scar, and slammed her back into a tree with his shoulder before bringing the tip of the spear to her throat.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be friends again?” He cooed in her face.

Her heart raced and she glared as the thick bark of the tree ground into her back. It was hard to swallow, but she was determined not to give in. “We were never friends.”

A flash of light caught on a long blade. Gar’s head loomed above Osprey and a dagger kissed his neck, drawing a thin line of blood. “Let her go.”

Osprey froze, the fire in his eyes landing on Kindra for want of his real target. “You would kill the chief’s son?” The tip of his spear pressed harder into Kindra’s neck and she barely dared to breathe as she felt her skin give.

“Give me a reason to,” Gar growled in Osprey’s ear.

Kindra’s warriors outnumbered Oak’s, but if she was dead, he won. The same was true for Osprey. Conal versus Odion. The Odions were the God’s family, but that didn’t mean they always won.

Osprey pulled his spear away and Gar turned him around, knife still to his throat.

“You’ll regret this,” Osprey said.

“One of us will.” Gar removed the dagger and pushed him away. Osprey looked over his shoulder at them but scurried off.

Kindra leaned against the tree as she gulped air. Once Osprey was out of sight, Gar turned to her, gaze lingering on hers before traveling to her throat. “You’re bleeding.”

She touched her neck before remembering her hand. She slowly opened it. Her palm pooled with blood.

Gar grabbed her hand and inspected it. “What happened?”

She didn’t reply. She didn’t need a lecture after being assaulted.

He sighed but didn’t release her hand. “You grabbed the spear, didn’t you? I taught you never to grab a spear like that.”

“I’ve never been pinned against a tree before.” She snatched her hand away, but at the look on his face a nervous laugh bubbled up. She’d been pinned to a tree once. Last Trina’s Day. By Gar.

She laughed harder, all of her suppressed emotions bubbling up through her diaphragm, because the only other option was to break down completely. She laughed until she had the hiccups, then could finally control herself. All the while he watched her with a frown.

“Are you done?”

She bit her lips together to stifle another hiccup and nodded.

“Good.” He pulled his cloak off and pressed it into her hand to stop the bleeding, then turned her face to the side. “Your jaw is bruised, but it won’t stop you from talking back. And the nick in your neck has already stopped bleeding. But that hand…”

He released her and shook his head, a frown etched deep on his brow. “Will you listen to Petoskey now? You need someone with you at all times. If the Conals kill you, Petoskey goes next, then Monk.” He paused. “Then me.”

“They have no reason to kill you.”

The glare he turned on her was painful. “I just held a knife to Osprey’s throat. I started the tattoo. And even if I hadn’t done either of those, I vowed my allegiance to you. Not Eoin. Not the Odion family. You.”

“And that’s my fault?” She crossed her arms. “I didn’t ask you to save me, or put a forbidden mark on your arm. I didn’t ask you to divide the tribe. And I certainly didn’t ask you to declare your fealty to me and try to turn me into the chief.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you chief.” He stuck his wrist out to show the tattoo. “This was a promise to do everything I could to make you a warrior again.” He dropped his arm and tugged his sleeve over the mark. “I wanted Oak to step down, but I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

She hugged her crossed arms to her chest. It felt as if someone was sitting on it, choking all the air from her. “What am I supposed to do now? It’s me or them. One of us will die.”

He shook his head. “Not if Oak makes you a warrior. If he does that, things will go back to normal.”

“Fie Eoin will never be the same again.” Just like when her father died. Just like when Kaye and her mother left. “You have no idea what you’ve started,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry. Again.” He looked at her, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I know you don’t want to hear it, because it’s easier to hate me, but I would do anything to fix this. The fight with my brother, this mess with Oak. Your father… I would give my life to bring Fennec back.”

He was right—it was much harder to hate him when he talked like this. Especially now that she knew what he’d been hiding from her. Tears slipped from Kindra’s eyes, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away.

Gar kept talking. “I would kill myself right now if it meant you could see him again. Just for one day. Just long enough to hear him say he was proud of you.” His voice caught. “He would be so proud of you.”

She couldn’t listen to any more of this. All of her loneliness, all of her fear, all of her anger directed in the wrong place bubbled up inside her like the laughter had, but laughter wasn’t enough this time. She was done aching for things lost. Kindra pressed her bloody fingers to Gar’s lips, stopping his confessions, then reached her good hand around his neck and kissed him.

When she pulled away his eyes were wide, and he didn’t speak. She put her hand on his chest, over the scar she made the first time he tried to kiss her. He was warm and solid and safe…and here. For whatever reason, Aleda had saved Gar at that battle, and taken Fennec instead.

Kindra pressed her lips together before she spoke. “I miss you, Gar. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

His look softened and he ran his thumb over her lips. “I miss you too.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again.