Monk returned before sunrise. He shook his head as he built up the fire. "Do the two of you wish to die, or are you stupid?" His voice was playful as usual, but his eyes betrayed how he felt.

Kindra stretched against Gar, her body feeling better than it had in two moons. Better than it ever would again. "Stupid mostly, but I wouldn't rule out the death wish yet."

Monk frowned. "I'll be outside. You need to bathe. You can't go to your wedding smelling of another man."

Gar curled his warm body around Kindra and kissed her neck. "You've been near Monk too long. You're beginning to catch his humor."

She spooned with Gar, curled up and let him hold her. Now that the day was here, she felt cold and dead inside. She put her arm over his and tucked it as close as she could get it. Neither of them spoke until Monk poked his head in the door.

His eyes were pitying and voice kind when he spoke this time. "I'm sorry, you can't put it off any longer."

Kindra nodded. If she spoke her voice would break, so she waited for Monk to close the flap before she turned to face Gar. "I'm sorry."

He pushed her hair back and traced the line of her jaw with his finger. When he got to the scar on her chin he stopped. "Before my brother left, he cursed us."

"This is not your brother's doing," she whispered. "The Gods would not listen to a traitor. If anything, this is my fault for shunning Trina." She ran a hand through his hair. "I pray She brings you someone else. You don't deserve this."

"Don't say that." He grabbed her hand and kissed the palm. "You don't deserve this either."

A tear slipped from her eye. "I'm sorry I spent so much time trying not to love you."

"And I'm sorry I wasted so much time pretending it didn't bother me."

They stared at each other until the door opened again. "Obsid's camp is stirring. Gar has to go."

Kindra nodded and kissed him, hard. As if she could press her lips into his so much that they would become one. Inseparable.

With the saddest look she had ever seen on his face, Gar unwrapped himself from her and stood. He dressed, but before he could leave, she put her hand on his arm. When he turned to her, she grabbed her father's spear and handed it to him.

"For the final blow against Oak." She wanted to say more—to confess what was going to happen to her, but she couldn’t back out now. So she put her hand over his and swallowed, studying his face.

Gar bowed, stiff and formal, and left before either of them could change their mind. Kindra shrugged on her clothes and stepped outside into the chill morning air next to Monk. "Take care of him."

Monk put his arm around her shoulders. “I promise. We’ll be ready by the end of summer. You’ll be home before the Warrior’s Ceremony.”

“Yeah,” Kindra shrugged his arm off to bathe.