Joshua, being the impatient tick he was, led Zo and Tess in a wide arc around the crowd that had gathered, forcing them to climb into the foothills on the side of the narrow valley. It seemed almost every man, woman, and child of the Allies wanted to witness the approach of the Raven.
Zo’s emotions warred between elation and nerves. Gabe, her childhood friend, would be leading the Raven to the Allies. The last time she’d seen him he’d kissed her, not disguising his hope that they could be together when they reunited. As a couple. But the kiss had accompanied a lie as black and horrible as Zo could possibly imagine.
Gabe had told Zo that Gryphon was dead—that he’d been killed by a Ram spear when he tried to escape his captors. She wanted to believe that the falsehood had been an accident—that maybe he’d been mistaken. But he’d lied to Gryphon, as well.
No matter how much Gabe professed to care about her, how could he lie when he knew it would cause her so much pain? What kind of a person did something so terrible?
Zo tripped over a loose rock and landed hard on her hands to break the fall. The impact jarred her already sore muscles. Brushing bits of rock and burs from her palms, she climbed to her feet and held her aching ribcage as she looked out over the little valley. From their spot on the hillside, it was hard not to admire the giant mountains framing the camp on all sides and the two small streams that funneled into the pond on the southeast end.
Laden couldn’t have chosen a more secluded, beautiful place to build his army. There was plenty of wood for lumber and plenty of water, and the natural protection of the mountains formed a perfect place for the Allies to grow in power and influence. The Allies camped in the north end of the valley, leaving acres and acres of land open for the Raven to establish a home as well as grow crops to support their people.
Zo remembered the first time she’d entered the secluded camp. Barely twelve years old, she’d looked out over the valley with the small group of supporters Laden had gathered, wondering how they would survive with only a few bags of seed and a few months of provisions. She and Tess were recent orphans, and Laden, her parents’ closest friend, had taken them under his protection.
He’d been kind to them both. Tess was only three years old when Laden took them on. No matter how many stories Zo told Tess about their beautiful mother and warrior father, Tess struggled to remember ever having parents aside from Millie and Laden.
“I see them!” Tess cried out, pointing down the valley at the only trail that led through the southern canyon.
From their high vantage point, the column of Raven walking toward them looked like a giant dark snake winding its way into the valley.
“So many,” Joshua exclaimed in wonder.
Somewhere near the head of that group would be Gabe.
“Let’s hurry.” Tess, who still sat perched on Joshua’s boney shoulders tapped at the boy’s head as though he were a mule in need of directing.
Joshua laughed. “You better hang on!” He took off down the mountain gripping Tess’s ankles. Her screams of delight harmonized with his pretend battle cry. Zo followed behind, shaking her head at the unlikely pair. A Ram and a Wolf, both raised to be enemies. They, more than anyone else, were proof that hate wasn’t born in the blood. It was cultivated by societies who feared that which they did not understand … that which was different.
Zo took a fortifying breath and walked down the mountain after them, wincing with every step.
Gryphon stood beside Commander Laden at the front of a wall of Allies. He searched the distant faces of the Raven refugees as they traveled the final steps of their weary journey to a new home. Though they were still more than a hundred yards away, their defeated posture resonated with Gryphon.
These were people who knew great sorrow—the kind of grief that only comes from losing your home. Such loss went deeper than physical pain. It was as though a portion of your soul—the piece that defined you—was missing, and without it, you had no idea how to be whole again.
Gryphon lived that pain daily, and seeing these Raven so displaced made him remember his own grief. His own sorrow at not belonging.
His own displacement felt especially real today. He’d walked the training field with aching muscles, making quiet suggestions to men trying to throw spears at long targets. Most took his instruction well, but few dared look at him as he spoke. Whether they feared him or despised him, it didn’t really matter.
Twenty-one days, he reminded himself. Soon he would leave this horrible place.
A place that could never be his home.
From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Joshua with Tess seated on his shoulders on the fringe of the group. Zo was with them. She appeared to say something that Tess didn’t appreciate because the little girl folded her arms in anger while Zo walked along the front line of the group in his direction.
Gryphon’s gaze jumped between Zo and the hundreds of men who gawked at her. Torn between wanting to rip out their eyes and the desire not to miss a single moment watching the way she moved in her traditional Wolf dress, Gryphon opted for the latter. No sense in making more enemies when there was a good chance one of these unworthy swine would someday win Zo’s heart, build her a home with four walls, and protect her with their poorly mastered sword.
As the Raven came even closer, thoughts of Gabe came to mind. Even though Gryphon hated him on multiple levels, there wasn’t another man in Gryphon’s acquaintance who could protect Zo and Tess the way Gabe could.
“Gryphon.” Zo reached out her hand to him as she came to stand at his side, so close their shoulders touched. She released his hand in exchange for hugging his arm. She gripped his bicep with one hand and his forearm with the other while her cheek pressed against his shoulder.
Gryphon’s eyes pinched closed. His free hand covered hers. How could such a soft, trusting touch be painful? Would she want to hold him if she knew the truth of his promise to Ajax?
“You’re tense,” she said. Then she hesitated before adding, “Thinking of Gabe?” She turned to face him. “You remember your promise, don’t you? You said you wouldn’t kill him.”
A smile cracked Gryphon’s attempt at composure. “I remember.”
Given the nature of Gryphon’s fate, holding a grudge against Gabe—as awful as the lie of Zo’s death had been—seemed petty. Zo was alive and he might need Gabe to help keep it that way should something happen to Commander Laden.
Chief Naataain raised a clenched fist, and the lines of Raven warriors halted. Countless feathers hung around the chief’s neck, and heavy wrinkles lined his face, distinct even from twenty yards.
Commander Laden stepped out to meet the chief and as they spoke, Gryphon noticed a blond head a few rows back.
Zo stood on tiptoe, scanning the crowd of Raven with thin lines wrinkling her forehead. From her lower vantage point, she hadn’t seen Gabe yet.
“Don’t worry,” said Gryphon. “Gabe is only a few rows back. He’s safe.”
Zo scowled and pushed Gryphon’s arm away. “Maybe for now. Just wait until I’m done with him.”
Without bothering to wait for the two leaders to finish their discussion, Zo stomped toward the crowd of Raven. Both Chief Naat and Laden stopped talking and watched her in puzzled wonder as she passed them.
“Gabe!” she called, when she reached the wall of warriors.
The crowd parted, and Gabe walked toward her with his signature half-smile peeking through the weeks of blond beard on his face. His sword hung from a sheath at his hip and a bow was strapped to his back. Even Gryphon had to admit the man cut an impressive figure.
He jogged toward Zo, and with little effort scooped her into his arms in a complete spin. Zo rested her ear to his chest and returned the embrace as her skirt danced around her ankles.
Gryphon hadn’t realized he’d drawn his dagger until the familiar curve of the hilt cut into his hand from squeezing it too tightly.
When Gabe set Zo
back down on her feet, she drew back her fist and threw it into Gabe’s face. Gryphon, along with the rest of the Allies and Raven witnessing the display, gasped in unison, then in laughter as Zo hissed words impossible to hear.
When she finished her rant, she spun on her heel and crossed the divide separating the two groups with head held high. She offered Laden and Chief Naat a firm nod, communicating an as you were, and stepped back in line with Gryphon and the Allies.
“Sorry,” she mumbled to him, taking back his arm as though nothing had happened. “That couldn’t wait another minute.”
Gryphon smiled and stared across the valley, locking eyes with Gabe. Visible even from this distance, the skin on Gabe’s left cheek had turned an angry red. His stance mimicked that of the sword strapped to his side—hard and unbending.
Though he knew Gabe had already been brought low, Gryphon lifted his arm to rest behind Zo’s back, his hand cupping her narrow waist. Staking his claim.
He had a feeling his blow cut deeper than Zo’s.
Chapter Nine
Laden stood before the crowd and cast his hands out wide. “In one week’s time, the Allies will host our first ever Ostara in honor of our new guests, the Freeman and the Raven. At dawn, two companies will leave this valley to invite both the Kodiak chief and the Wolf alpha to join us for the festivities. This Wolf tradition will mark the uniting of our clans as well as the wedding of the Freeman leader, Stone, and his soon-to-be bride.”
Zo squirmed next to Gryphon. She still hadn’t told him that she would be included in the company heading to the Kodiak Caves. She massaged the hand that struck Gabe—a painful reminder that she shouldn’t have been as happy as she was to see him safely home.
The crowd disbanded. Raven warriors rushed to meet their families. Commander Laden called for Gryphon to accompany him back to his tent. With a sigh, he turned to Zo and said, “Do you feel like he’s trying to keep us apart?”
Laden certainly had kept Gryphon busy since their arrival.
“Find me after?” she asked.
He must have noticed her throbbing hand, because he plucked it from her side and raised it to his lips. “Count on it.”
As Zo watched Gryphon’s and Laden’s retreating forms, the buzz of laughter and conversations around her fizzled. Heads turned in her direction. Heat warmed her back—the temperature difference subtle, but noticeable—as someone came up behind her, invading her personal space.
Zo closed her eyes, knowing and dreading the source.
“Go away, Gabe.”
“Please. We need to talk.” Gabe rested his hand on her lower back and guided her through the crowd. Zo might have fought him, but she didn’t have the energy or inclination to make another scene.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” he said, walking at her side. “I’m sorry.”
Zo pushed past him as they wove through a sea of curious onlookers. So many of these men knew her and Gabe to be the best of friends. Over the last few years she’d heard rumors of Gabe’s intention to propose marriage one day, but she and Gabe had never so much as kissed before a couple of weeks ago, and even that hadn’t been her idea.
Gabe was a friend. A brother. She couldn’t deny her physical attraction to him, but she’d never cared for him in a romantic way. He’d surprised her with news of Gryphon’s death, and she was in shock when he met her unsuspecting lips with his.
“Sorry isn’t good enough, Gabe. Not for this.”
Gabe jumped over a black and barren fire pit to keep pace with Zo. When he landed, he snatched up her hands before she could yank them away. “Zo, when I left Gryphon I truly believed there was no way he’d survive. I didn’t want you to agonize over the long and painful question of his survival. I lied because I believed it would be the truth, even if it was an eventual truth.”
Zo stopped struggling against Gabe’s hold on her. “But why lie to Gryphon?”
At the mention of Gryphon’s name, he threw his hands into the air. “Listen, I panicked. I care for you, Zo. We’d just survived the Gate, and I thought we’d finally be together. Then I saw the way you worried over Gryphon. I felt you leaving me for him. I couldn’t stand it.”
They’d been friends since traveling to this small valley together as children—had played together, laughed together. He’d been the big brother she and Tess had needed. In a way, not loving him felt like its own brand of betrayal, making his ugly lie seem small by comparison. “Gabe.” She took a step toward him, hesitant and uncertain. “I have always loved you and will always love you. But—”
“Don’t,” he said. “I can’t hear the rest.”
“But, my love for you is like the love I have for Tess. Constant. Familial.”
He stood erect, not meeting her gaze as he stared over her head. His nostrils flared and his face crumpled into a pained expression. “Just tell me. Can you forgive me?” he asked.
The simple question made Zo’s throat thick with emotion. “Can you forgive me?” she asked, leaving off the painful words: for not loving you in return …
Gabe pulled her to him with such speed, Zo didn’t have a moment to brace herself for the contact of Gabe’s body pressed against hers. He squeezed her with Kodiak force, compressing the air from her lungs and sending sharp pain through her ribs and sore muscles. Then he cupped her face in his hands and spoke with gentle ferocity. “I will always be here for you, Zo.”
But how could he keep such a promise? And how could she accept it? No matter how much she wanted a safety net in life, she refused to use Gabe as an alternative to Gryphon.
He deserved better.
Gabe backed a step away. Then another. Finally, after one last, long look, he turned and walked into Commander Laden’s tent, likely to give a report of his travels since leaving the Camp.
Zo hugged her arms to her tender stomach, still shaken by their conversation. She replayed every word and relived every touch in her mind. She didn’t know how long she stared at the tent—maybe two minutes, maybe an hour—before a large hand—a different hand—pressed against her lower back.
She startled, but instantly relaxed when a glance from the corner of her eye confirmed it was Gryphon.
“You all right?” His deep, rolling cadence—the accent of the enemy—was like being swathed in a warm blanket.
“Gryphon.”
His dark hair fell into his warm brown eyes. He looked between her and the tent. “What do you need?” Four words. So simple, yet so precisely encompassing why she’d grown to love him. Gryphon, the selfless Ram, who saw a world in need. Gryphon, willing to right every problem around him.
Zo bit her lip and took his hand in hers. “I think I could use some time away from camp.”
Gryphon nodded, but glanced over his shoulder at the four guards Laden had tailing him. “Any chance you pups want to give us a few minutes?”
Zo tugged on Gryphon’s hand and pushed onto her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “You shouldn’t bait them. They’re here to protect you.”
A muted, cynical laugh rolled from Gryphon’s chest. “A nice sentiment, Zo. But they’re here to protect the camp.”
Zo frowned. “We’re going for a walk,” she said over Gryphon’s shoulder, daring the guards to defy her. “I’ll see Gryphon back to his tent in an hour or so.” She paused, sensing an argument from them. “You don’t want to make an enemy of the camp healer, soldiers. Not before a war.”
Zo tugged on Gryphon’s arm, pulling him in the opposite direction.
“No way that works,” Gryphon muttered under his breath.
“Just don’t look back,” said Zo. “I’m practically Laden’s daughter, and I’ve risked my life for the cause. They’ll back off.” She honestly doubted it; Laden didn’t stand for any level of insubordination. Still, she hoped to scare them enough into keeping watch from a distance. At this point, she’d take any time she could get with Gryphon.
Gryphon and Zo passed the northern tra
ining fields and walked through the rows of maize and wheat to the foothills at the north of the valley. They headed toward the slot canyon where they had entered the camp, taking a trail to the west until it met the sheer mountainside.
“The view up here is amazing!” Zo stretched her arms out wide, ignoring the pain in her ribs, and peered back in the direction they had come. There was no sign of Gryphon’s guards. The thought made her smug and more than a little surprised. She drew in a large breath of mountain air and absorbed the red glow of the dying sun as it cast its final rays across the valley. “Especially at dusk, when campfires light up the valley and the stars come out.”
When Gryphon didn’t respond, she turned around and asked, “Are you all right?”
He stood silent, his expression tense and somehow primal.
“Gryphon, I—”
Zo’s question turned into a light scream when Gryphon, the Ram, charged her. He wrapped his arms around her legs and hoisted her over his shoulder.
Zo’s laughter turned into a gasp of pain with the jarring motion.
He stopped, skidding over loose rock and dirt, at the sound of her cry. “What’s wrong?” He gently lowered her to the ground, scanning her face for the source of her pain.
Zo waved away his concern. “It’s nothing. Just a little sore.” Her hand went to her ribs out of habit.
Gryphon frowned. “Sore from what?”
Zo shrugged. “I’m not sure. I just woke up with it hurting.”
“Have you seen Millie about it?”
Zo rolled her eyes. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Striker.”
Gryphon raised an eyebrow. “May I … ” he cleared his throat in obvious discomfort. “May I see?”
Zo’s mouth went completely dry. Her pulse quickened, and before she could even evaluate her answer, she caught herself nodding, swept up in the uncertainty of his open gaze.
Zo slowly tugged at the laces of her jerkin, not fully untying them, but loosening them just enough to lift the blouse underneath to expose her stomach and lower ribs. For all they’d endured together, she shouldn’t have been so nervous. So … shy.
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