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"We have spoken about it." His voice was calm, and measured. "If we were to find this girl, what exactly do you want?"

Draken chose his words carefully. "I would want to meet her. If I am satisfied, we would like to offer a bride price and our support in exchange for her travelling with us."

At this, Arken's gaze flickered toward one of the men, who shifted uneasily, his fingers tapping lightly against the wooden table.

Then one of the women, a regal-looking elder, spoke.

"I am Elder Swaine," she said, her voice smooth, but firm. "What if the girl is too young to be sent with you? We have to educate our children. Can we delay this until she is eighteen?"

Draken's expression did not change.

"That is not negotiable."

A tense silence settled.

The nervous man at the table cleared his throat. "Can we delay this until she is of age to be betrothed?"

Draken's icy gaze locked onto him. "And what age would that be?"

The man swallowed. "Twelve."

The room was silent for a beat, save for the soft creak of wood as High Priest Arken leaned forward, his hands steepled before him. Across the table, Draken held his gaze, his expression unreadable. The air between them was thick with unspoken truths, but both men understood—this was not merely a negotiation.

It was an exchange of trust, one neither side could afford to break.

Arken exhaled, finally speaking. "This girl—if she exists—what guarantees do we have that she will be treated with the respect due to her by the Vargrheim?"

Draken's voice was firm. "She will be honoured, not caged. She will have the protection of the strongest wolves in the Vargrheim pack, and she will be given every privilege. But this is not negotiable—when she reaches twelve, we will return for her."

A ripple of discomfort passed through some of the elders, though none dared speak against it outright.

Draken's blue eyes flicked toward her, assessing. "But if we leave her here, she must remain steadfast to my son. "

Draken's jaw clenched for the briefest second before he forced himself to relax, leaning back slightly. He knew the girl was his one way or the other. But he would prefer not to use threats.

"So, hypothetically," he said, his voice smooth, unreadable, "if you know this girl, how many years until she can be collected?"

The man hesitated. "Four more years."

Draken exchanged the slightest glance with his warriors, the realization settling among them—the girl was the same age as Hagan. The wolves did not react, their expressions stone-like, but a silent excitement passed between them through the tribelink.

They had found her.

Arken watched Draken carefully. Then, at last, he sighed. "If this is to be done, then we will need assurance that your pack will uphold your end of the bargain."

Draken nodded once. "Five of my unmated warriors will remain here to serve as protectors and trainers for your people until we come to collect the girl. Your enforcers will grow stronger, and your borders will be better defended."

A murmur ran through the elders, thoughtful, hesitant.

One of the men, a battle-worn figure who had yet to speak, finally leaned forward. "There is the issue of the cannibalistic tribe. They have been a plague upon us for years—stealing our people in the night, even devouring their own. You claim you will bring warriors, but will you rid us of that threat first?"

Draken held his gaze without flinching. "Yes. We will deal with them before we depart."

Arken nodded, seeming to weigh the words carefully before finally exhaling. He turned his gaze to the gathered council, and one by one, the elders inclined their heads.

At last, he spoke. "Then we have an agreement."

The tension in the room eased slightly, but beneath it, an unspoken truth lingered.