Anthera defied my expectations—not a mere clan, but a sprawling encampment, twice the size of my own. Darka’s band, now swollen with more warriors, led us into its heart with gallant strides. Rina rode serenely, waving at children who greeted the warriors. I caught her eye, my confusion met with her frown. She owed me answers—her secrets had led us here.

The scent of cooking fires, rich with roasting meat, stirred my hunger. Starvation was a curse we’d avoided by choosing Anthera, but its dangers loomed larger now.

Crowds thickened as we neared the central tent—children, curious onlookers, and wary locals trailing us. Darka signaled us to dismount, striding inside with familiarity. His men herded us in line. “My King,” he said, genuflecting before a weathered man on a throne. We bowed lightly, then matched his kneel at his sharp glance.

“You’re early, Darka,” King Gurtive said, his lined face betraying faded strength, a warrior’s past etched in his gaze.
“I bring something saucy,” Darka replied, gesturing to Rina. She stepped forward, smiling softly.
“My Lord,” she said, bowing. “You look well.”
“Last I saw you, you were a child,” Gurtive said, eyes widening. He frowned. “Why are you here?”
“Caught sneaking through our lands,” Darka said, “her and her warrior.” He snorted at me. “That’s no warrior.”
Laughter rippled through the tent. I swallowed the insult, my focus on escape. Rina sat at Gurtive’s gesture, and I followed, tense.
“Your commander thinks I’m a spy,” Rina said. Gurtive poured milk into horn cups, his face unreadable. “If I were spying, an expert would’ve come.”
The king’s smile faded. He sipped the milk, setting it down. “Then why are you here?”
“My father and you have strained ties,” Rina said, sipping her milk. “As a girl, I knew the benefits of your alliance. I’m here to mend it.”
Gurtive’s eyes narrowed. “Your father’s unyielding. How can you fix what’s broken?”
“Anthera thrives on cultivators and nomads,” she said. “Geknok’s markets fuel you. If my father cut trade through our lands, it’d humble you. But make Anthera a trade hub, drawing clans and towns. Imagine the revenue.”
Gurtive’s confusion flickered to intrigue. “You’d do that?”
“Of course,” Rina said, smiling. “It boosts Geknok’s commerce too. I’m a daughter pleasing her father. Your loyalty is my price.”
“Lies,” Darka hissed, slapping his thigh. “She’d say anything for freedom. Why come with one man if her intent’s true?”
“My father would’ve stopped me,” Rina countered. “He loves results, not plans. My warrior’s silence I trust.”
“I say she’s deceitful,” Darka spat. “Her family’s treachery lingers.”
“Leave old wounds,” Rina said, frowning.
“King Gurtive,” she urged, “you swore no harm to me or my family. Grant us safe passage, and our deal stands.”
The king’s weary eyes weighed her words. “I swore it,” he said, sighing. “I’ll honor it.”

Rina rose, and I moved to follow. “Wait,” Darka’s voice cut through. His men blocked the exit, their bodies a wall. “Your oath covers Rina and her family—not her warrior.”

Murmurs of agreement rose. My pulse quickened. “Let’s test if he’s a warrior,” Darka said, his smile cruel. Gurtive nodded, rising. “Prepare the circle. He fights for his freedom.”
Chants erupted. Rina’s worried glance met my steady one. Fate had spun its snare again, but I’d face it, blade or blood, as Dorack of Dun.