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“To do so would appear weak.”

Always the concern for how they appeared to others. It was exhausting. “Do you not have many women in your tribe?” She hadn’t seen many walking around.

“Tell me what you propose for peace,” he said.

The trust wasn’t there yet. She would have to offer her information before he would offer any, but she would do so gladly, if it prevented anyone else from feeling this hollow ache inside. “I am not certain,” she admitted. “I don’t know what you want, so therefore I am not sure what to offer. I just know I can’t keep seeing my people die.” Her voice broke and she took a moment. Her hand was steady as she poured mare’s milk into her cup and filled his as well. Focus on the future, on what her tribe needed. “You do not have the fertile land to grow crops, but your horses are much stronger than ours. Perhaps we can trade some of our harvest for some of your horses each year.” Yul would have loved to have an Erseg horse.

“Is that it?”

“What else do you want?” Frustration tried to push its way into her tone and she exhaled. “Part of the problem is, we only come together to fight, we do not know each other.” Her mind whirled for other options. “Perhaps you can join our summer hunt next year. We meet with the Kharil, Horkham and Bulgat tribes each year. We trade and talk, and our young people flirt and find marriage matches.”

He frowned. “Wouldn’t that be an opportunity to attack us? You would be at strength and we would be vulnerable. How can we trust you?”

The first step was always the hardest. Each side worried about betrayal. “Don’t you have treaties with the Adhan and Tungat tribes? Perhaps they can come as well. We can all trade and learn about each other.”

He chuckled. “Do you know how optimistic that is? The tribes of Rhora are warriors not poets.”

Dagar was right. But there were still so many similarities between them. She remembered the wrestlers she’d seen earlier. “Then how about a tournament? Our people can compete for prestige; we could have archery tournaments, wrestling bouts, horse races. The winning tribe gets a title until the following year.”

“There’s still the trust issue.” He sipped his drink.

Why did she have to do all the work? Didn’t he have any suggestions of his own? “So we camp at a distance from each other and our khans and spiritual advisors gather at a central point to lay down rules for weapons and behaviour.”

“You’re determined to make this work, aren’t you?”

She nodded. “The women of my tribe are tired of grieving. There must be another way. We are all Rhoran.”

“We are,” he agreed and stood. “I will let you rest. There will be a guard at your door.”

Of course. “As long as he doesn’t enter, he will be safe.”

His lips twitched. “As long as you don’t try to leave, you will be safe.” He left.

Shuree exhaled and slumped over the table. It had gone better than she had expected. If Dagar had his father’s ear, perhaps they could negotiate a peace. Though his brother may not like it. Maybe she should have allowed Amar to come with her. As a male, he might have been given more respect, but he also had more of a temper.

She finished her drink and carried the lantern over to the mattress. She checked beneath the covers for any surprises and then scanned the tent for anything else she might have missed. Only the single entrance to monitor. Without any weapon, she felt naked, but she’d worked with Vachir to sharpen her hand to hand combat skills.

And she desperately needed to sleep so she was alert tomorrow.

It was her turn to trust Dagar’s word.

She lay down and fell asleep.