Sweat beaded on Lanna's brow; with ten of people crammed into her tiny hut, the air temperature mirrored a summer's day. She sat cross-legged, squashed next to Mika and Freya. Her hands rested on her knees, fingers digging into the bony plates under her skin. A bride mustn't speak during the negotiations.

Lanna found the tradition irritating. It was her marriage, should she not get to negotiate? She wrinkled her nose and tried not to tug at her clothing. Damp, clammy cotton stuck to her stomach and legs.

Hemil sat stiff-backed next to his father. He and the rest of his male relatives were opposite, the firepit between them. He kept glancing at her when the discussion grew heated, as if to check she hadn't changed her mind.

'I will not be moved on this,' the Headman half growled. 'My son does your family a great honour in choosing your daughter. He deserves an appropriate bride price. All the barter in the village wouldn't be enough to cover the lack of gold in your offer.'

Alric folded his arms. He didn't like the situation either, but Freya had begged him to play the part without complaint.

'And I told you, we are of the south: gold has no meaning to us. We own none and even if we did, we wouldn't have carried it with us across the Blacklands.' He refused to back down, despite the language barrier, meaning Durrick had to whisper a translation to him periodically.

'We have no gold, nor the ability to get any.' Alric's eyes flicked to Lanna then back to the Headman. 'Lanna should be precious enough without gold.'

It took all of Lanna's will not to speak. Why was coin even a factor? They would have enough to feed their children, so why the concern?

The matchmaker snorted and held up her hands to ease the tension.

'The quality of the bride is not part of this. The proposal was made and accepted by both families. That fact has not changed.' Her eyes pinned both men where they sat. 'It would be shameful for the family that offered the proposal to drop the offer.'

She sat back, folding her arms into the sleeves over her threadbare ceremonial robes. The fading black garment had probably been passed down through several generations. 'Though the proposing family do have a point. One gold coin is stated as the minimum price for marriage. It would dishonour the bride to be accepted for anything less. It would imply she has no value.' The matchmaker gave Lanna a tight smile. 'Not the best omen to begin a marriage.'

Freya frowned at Lanna's side, struggling to follow the conversation. Mika practically vibrated with frustration, hands clasped in her lap to keep them still.

Alric gave a heavy sigh, the corners of his lips turned down.

'Then... we are?' He searched for a word.

'At an impasse,' the Headman grumbled. 'I am sorry.' He stood, almost tripping over Hemil's leg. The fire in the pit spat, as if adding its own scorn of the situation. 'I don't see us getting further this evening.' He bowed to Alric and then the matchmaker. 'Emperor bless you all.'

Lanna followed Hemil's family to the grassy area where the laundry hung, frosted and stiff in the crisp night air.

The second moon rose, the first already ascending. In the clans the moons were named after ancestral heroes – Franklin, the smaller and brighter orb and Echo Charlie, larger and dimmer in colour – near blue. She had never thought to ask what Imperials called them.

Hemil moved to stand before her, blocking her sight of the twin moons. The matchmaker and her family shuffled a discreet distance away as they said goodbye in the chilly evening. Hemil's breath fogged as he spoke.

'This is quite normal; don't worry. Granny Matchmaker would tell you that.' Squid woman snorted and Hemil chuckled. 'Some negotiations have been known to last half a year.' He took her hands in his and squeezed, giving a reassuring smile. 'Don't go changing your mind.'

'I won't.'

He glanced sideways then pitched his voice so low she almost missed what he said.

'Ox barn, tonight.' Then he moved to join his kin, without even looking back at her.

Much bowing and formality later the families parted and Lanna ducked back into the hut with a sigh.

'Shaft me twice,' Durrick spat out. 'This is stupid!'

Lanna grumbled agreement and flopped down in a boneless heap on her mat.

Durrick rolled himself up in a ball on the other side of the fire. 'Guess I should pay attention; I may have to go through this myself in a few years.'

'It will all be well,' Alric rumbled. 'You'll see.'

Lanna waited until she could hear the breathing around her deepen and even out. Sleep tugged at her tired limbs and eyelids. It had been a long day. Even in the freeze, work remained plentiful.

The seriousness in her intended's eyes drove her to stand and tiptoe past her parents and brother. What did Hemil want to say that couldn't be heard by their families? Slipping out proved easy but getting through the village would be a different matter.

Even her father took a turn to stay up once or twice a month to watch the community while it slept. There hadn't been any sort of raid that anyone could remember, but it paid to be cautious, and every male of age took part in the night watch.

The chill air slid over her cheeks, and the moons hung high in the inky black of the sky. She stayed in the shadows, cursing her lack of aptitude for hunting; a hunter's stealth would have helped greatly.

She circled the edge of the houses, her footsteps overloud. Even the beat of her quaking heart felt exaggerated. At every nocturnal noise, she paused and prayed to the ancestors. The marriage may be called off if her honour was questioned – that meant she couldn't be caught.

Her hopes for the future depended on her passing unseen.

Luck favoured her. As she eased around the last few houses, her heart leapt to see the ox barn open. Three strides more and she entered relative safety, closing the doors with a soft click. A sleepy ox lifted its head to blink at her, its rough tongue licking over a shiny black nose that glimmered in the moonlight streaming through a gap in the roof.

'Up here.' Hemil's voice came from the hayloft; the slight squeak of a plank followed. Lanna scrambled up the rickety ladder to find him sitting near a pile of hay, a tiny candle in an earthen pot the only light he allowed himself. Anything brighter would be spotted. The wick glowed with hardly enough light to see by, though enough to know shadow from body.

'Hemil,' she hissed, crawling over the floor. 'What is this about? What if we get caught?'

'Come, sit. You must be free— Actually, I bet you're not.'

She shifted closer and crouched beside him.

'I'll be quick because I'm about to start shivering.' He draped a corner of a thick blanket over her shoulders. 'Here: I have something for you.' Cold fingers pressed something even colder into her hand. 'Take it.' She felt the thing between her fingers. Rounded – a small disk. She held it up to her face.

'Is this... a coin?' Metal used in exchange for trade goods was an odd concept.

'Yes, and it's gold.'

She squinted at the heavy disk, her fingertip following the central character stamped into the metal. 'Where did you get this?'

An arm snaked about her waist and Hemil snuggled into the side of her, folding the blanket tight around them.

'You're so warm,' he sighed into her shoulder.

'Hemil!' she hissed, worry bleeding into her whisper. 'Where did you get this?'

'My mother's coin pouch. This was part of her bride price. Father never could bring himself to spend it.'

'I can't take this.' Lanna tried to thrust the coin back at him but only succeeded in dropping it. The metal flashed in the candlelight and landed with a sweet ring. Lanna cursed and moved to grab it, only to have her hand taken by Hemil and pulled to rest upon his chest.

'They won't miss it; even if they do, I doubt they would scold me. They're about to get it straight back, and a daughter into the bargain.' Lanna saw a flash of white teeth as his face neared. His heart throbbed under her palm. 'Take it, please.'

'Why?' Her face screwed up into a deep frown, and she shook her head to clear her thoughts. 'Negotiations are—'

'Will not move until your family gathers enough surplus to trade for gold. That could take months.' His nose tip brushed hers, cold compared to her flushed face. 'Do you really want to wait that long?' His breath ghosted over her cheek, scented with tea, warm and damp in the dry cold of the barn air.

'No,' she found herself answering. He pressed the coin into her free hand. He must have picked it up. Lanna clutched it. Try as she might, she couldn't pull her hand from his chest. Was that his heart hammering? Or her pulse?

'I don't want to wait either.' His lips hovered a hair's breadth from hers. 'The sooner you're my wife, the sooner I can love you all night.'

She kissed him, not knowing how else to answer. He moaned into her mouth at the contact. It proved to be her undoing.

The kiss turned from gentle caress to tongue, teeth and raw need. Drunk on sensation, Lanna didn't even pause when he pushed her skirts up, exposing pale flesh that never saw the sun.

She moved her lips to pull at his earlobe and whisper encouragement. He knocked her backward into the hay then tugged at her clothes with a string of curses when they didn't peel from her skin fast enough.

Calloused fingertips brushed up her ribcage and she arched her back into his touch.

'Please,' she begged, unable to hold back under his rushed movements and uncertain touches.

He shuddered and she felt his weight on her, his heat on her skin. It was as if there had never been distance between them. There he lay, warm, kind and needing her. Fingers combed her hair and traced meandering paths down her back.

A burn and a sting between her legs made her grimace, then he moved against her, inside her. Fogging breath billowed over her face in gasps.

He left her behind, as she knew he would. Too soon he shivered and pressed his sweat-slick forehead to hers. She clasped her legs around his midriff, unwilling to let him move away.

'That is... one way to warm up.' He chuckled then kissed her. 'I'm sorry,' he said with a tinge of shame. 'I've thought about this for months.' Another kiss. 'Forgive me.'

She smiled at him, not even irritated.

Armed with women's talk in sweat lodges, Lanna knew pleasure took time. They would get better. There would be plenty of time to practise once they wed. She held him to her and flipped the blanket over his back before he chilled.

'You have to marry me now,' he sighed as he laid his head on her chest. 'You've ruined me for other women.'

She shook her head, too dazed to ask what he meant.

'Lanna?'

She hummed a hazy response.

'Where's the coin?'

They spent half the night looking for a gold coin in a stack of hay in the darkness, then at dawn Lanna stalked her way from the ox barn and pounded a fist on the door of Hemil's family home, hay in her hair and protruding from her clothing. The Headman opened the door and looked over her, eyes tightening, then his expression dissolved into very Hemil-like amusement.

Lanna grabbed his hand without so much as a greeting and shoved the coin into it.

'I pay my own bride price – now I will marry your son,' she half spat, standing tall, her chin tilted up.

The Headman looked at the coin in his hand, then her, then back again.

'Your price is accepted. Call me Agami, daughter.'