Fearless

by Jennifer Jenkins

  “And you know that Zo and Sani’s sister are leaving in the morning, don’t you?” Joshua had asked. “I volunteered to go with them, but Commander Laden said I had to stay.”

  Gryphon had ruffed the boy’s hair and said, “I wish both of us could go, kid.”

  Instead of allowing himself to go mad with worry, he’d just keep his head down and use the following week to map out a plan to help Zo with her blood oath and help Ajax. Zo’s return would be his deadline.

  He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes and silently prayed for a solution. If only the Historian were still alive. He felt convinced she would have known what to do. This problem, no matter how much he wanted to fix it, was bigger than him.

  But besides Zo, Joshua, and little Tess, he didn’t know to whom he could turn for help. The obvious man to speak to about the matter was also one of the people he trusted least. But at this point, what other options did he have?

  Fire! Fire! Fire!

  Zo rolled to her side, pulling her favorite lamb’s wool quilt up over her head to hide from the disturbance of another nightmare. But not even its familiar softness could dispel the fear of nights spent fighting the Clanless a few short weeks ago. Persistent as waves crashing against the shore. Burnt flesh suffocating the senses, balls of fire hurdling through the dark sky overhead and landing between mother and child. The panicked, helpless cries of fathers who didn’t dare abandon their place at the perimeter of camp to rush back to their families. Never knowing how the next attack would come. Only that it would come.

  “Fire!” Again, Zo shrank deeper into the thick folds of her bedroll.

  Small but determined hands shoved against Zo’s shoulder and hip. “Wake up! They need us!” Tess rarely showed fear, even inside the Gate when such weakness was more than justified. Hearing the tremor in her voice propelled Zo up and out of bed in one swift motion. Zo jammed her feet into her boots while threading her arms through the sleeves of an old tunic that used to belong to her father. The fabric reached her knees, but the simple shirt, combined with her mother’s woven belt, always brought her a measure of comfort. A marriage of her parents displayed in one hasty outfit.

  “Tell me,” said Zo, as she quickly tied her hair into a rushed knot on the top of her head. If there really was a fire, the last thing she needed was for her wild hair to get in the way.

  “A Wolf tent.”

  The dry buckskin lining would have easily fueled a fire. But Zo had never heard of someone being so careless.

  “They’re saying … they’re saying … ” but Tess was too breathless to finish. She grabbed Zo’s hand and together they ran for the Healer’s Tent.

  “How many injured?” asked Zo. Outside, the darkness of the night was disturbed by a red and orange glow in the Wolf sector of camp. Shouts punctuated the pulsing, distant flame.

  “Move!” a burly man yelled, as he and a group of men carried two makeshift gurneys toward the tent. Zo ducked into the Healer’s Tent ahead of them to find Millie waiting with a hand to her chest and a face as white and ghostly as a three-day corpse.

  “Careful!” Zo helped lower the first burn victim onto a bed. Millie and Tess helped with the second. “We need more water, and a fire.”

  “No fire!” one of the burned men cried between wails of agony. Moist skin blistered and bubbled along the entire left side of his body. The other man’s burns weren’t nearly as bad, covering mostly his hands, arms, and one side of his face.

  Zo and Millie cut away cumbersome clothing and began pouring clean water over the wounds. Tess mixed powdered poppy and other herbs in a broth for the pain. The men drank with arched backs between gasps and sobs.

  Zo channeled and challenged her new gift, pushing life and vitality into the damaged tissue where the burns were especially severe while purging possible infection—the real killer of any burn victim.

  She cupped the swollen, red ear of the man on her table and whispered a healing blessing to draw away the heat and restore the flesh. For the first time since they’d come into the healing tent, Zo really looked into the young man’s face. The sensation of déjà vu passed over her.

  So many of the men in camp were familiar, but she had a sinking feeling she should know this man. “Weren’t you just here?” Zo coughed into her palm, the smell of smoke on her breath, for some reason.

  And then she remembered. These were the Wolves who’d attacked Gryphon on the training field.

  Suddenly, Commander Laden pushed away the flap of the tent and stormed into the infirmary. His face was smeared with ash and his eyes were swollen and bloodshot. Pointing a shaking finger at Zo, he said, “Report to my tent.” His voice came out something of a growl.

  Zo gestured down at her patients. “Now?”

  He grimaced, casting a compassionate glance at the wounded. “As soon as you’re able.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “You’re telling me it was simple coincidence?” Laden paced. A single torch staked to the ground flickered at the center of the tent, casting dancing light on all surfaces within its meager reach and leaving the rest to the mystery of heavy shadow. “Do you know how many accidental fires we’ve had in five years of staying in this valley?”

  Gryphon sat in the chair in front of Laden’s desk, his hands resting casually in his lap.

  “Not one.” The Commander answered his own question, his voice calm, like the still moment before a mountain lion pounces.

  “The tent of the men who attacked you catches fire. You are found conveniently without your guard.” Laden counted Gryphon’s strikes against his fingers. “You realize how bad this looks for you, I hope.”

  Gryphon had come back to his tent after his confrontation with Ikatou expecting to find the four guards waiting outside, but the entrance had been empty. He remembered vaguely wondering if they were out looking for him, but wasn’t about to help them with their babysitting duties. Both Joshua and Sani had been fast asleep when he’d slipped inside. It had felt as though he had barely shut his eyes when shouts of fire punctuated the night.

  “Where are my men?”

  “If you’re referring to my pathetic guard, I have no idea.” Gryphon didn’t want to explain that it had been Zo who had sent them on their way. He also didn’t have any desire to explain that he’d spent most of the night alone with Zo up in the foothills.

  The sound of muffled voices outside the tent preceded Zo’s louder demand of, “I’m expected.” She pushed open the tent flaps. “You wanted to see me?” She stumbled a bit upon seeing Gryphon, but quickly regained her composure and turned on Laden. “If you think he’s responsible for the fire, you’re wrong.”

  “His guard is missing,” Laden said, narrowing his eyes. “He has motive.”

  “I sent away his guard tonight so we could be alone.”

  Laden’s brows plummeted, turning his face angular. “You what?”

  “I asked them to leave us, and they did. They knew he and I were together.”

  Gryphon held back a snort of laughter. Zo made it sound as though her bold threats had been nothing more than a gentle request.

  Laden’s nostrils flared. “You’re telling me that you were with Gryphon tonight the entire time? That you escorted him to his tent before heading off to your own?”

  A subtle pause. Barely more than a half second, but Laden, like any seasoned predator, could have easily seen the hesitation. “Yes,” she said, matching his stare with one of her own, daring him to contradict her.

  “And how can you be so certain he didn’t leave after you left?”

  Zo surprised Gryphon by turning and looking him directly in the eye. “Did you leave your tent tonight?”

  “I did not.” And Gryphon hadn’t. He’d just gone to settle a score with Ikatou before making it there.

  “There you have it!” said Zo.

  “Dear girl,” Laden said, frowning. “You forget this man was raised by our enemy. I don’t doubt his loy
alties to you, but it’s foolish to assume they extend to the rest of us.”

  Very True, Gryphon mentally agreed.

  Laden walked over to Gryphon and leaned back on his table, crossing his arms in front of his barrel chest as he examined his prisoner. “Strange.” Laden frowned at Zo. “Did you, in your private time with this Ram, happen to punch him in the face?”

  Were it not for Gryphon’s interrogation training, he might have flinched at the Commander’s observation. Instead, Gryphon spoke in a level tone. “This is nothing, sir.” He thought to blame his swollen jaw on the rough handling of the Wolves when they’d dragged him out of the tent at Laden’s summons, but he didn’t dare. Laden was smart, and Gryphon had no doubt that he would question his men to corroborate Gryphon’s claim. “Ikatou and I had a little chat about Zo’s blood oath earlier.” Keep it vague. Hide the lie with truths.

  Zo blinked down at him. Her uncertain gaze made the hair on Gryphon’s arms and legs stand on end. She would easily remember his jaw wasn’t swollen when they were together earlier.

  Please trust me, Zo.

  Thankfully the Commander missed Zo’s reaction. His attention was drawn by a tall soldier with a blond goatee and weathered lines pulling down the corners of his mouth. The soldier bowed.

  “Report,” said Laden.

  “We can’t find them, sir.”

  Laden watched him with arms folded across his broad chest. The harsh light and shadow of the torch distorted his usually handsome face, turning it gruesome and gaunt. “Explain yourself, Captain. This isn’t a large valley.”

  “Our men have checked every tent, sir.”

  “And the guards at the northern pass?”

  “Have nothing to report either, sir.”

  Laden’s fist pounded against the table. “Not good enough!” He kneaded his fingers into his brow, as though taking a moment to collect his temper. “Send a Raven flock to the southern entrance. See if they find tracks.”

  The soldier bowed again. “Yes, sir.” He turned to fulfill his order then paused before exiting the tent.

  “What is it, Captain?”

  The tired captain glanced over his shoulder, meeting Gryphon’s eye with an unbridled scowl. “We think the Ram did something to them, sir.”

  Anger boiled inside Gryphon. But he didn’t even have a chance to defend himself before Laden shouted, “If a lone, unarmed Ram took down four of my best guards in the middle of the night in the heart of my own camp without any witnesses, then … ” He took a breath and, pinching the bridge of his noise, said, “Send the flock. I want a report by noon tomorrow.”

  The captain bowed one final time and left the tent.

  “I told them to wait for me at the tent,” said Gryphon when they were alone again. He didn’t want this to be considered Zo’s fault. If these men had shirked their duty inside Ram’s Gate they would have already been strung up and whipped for insubordination and leaving their post. “When we returned, they weren’t there.” Gryphon glanced at Zo, hoping she’d continue to go along with her original lie that they’d been together when they reached his tent.

  She didn’t appear pleased, and he hoped she’d listen to the full explanation of what had happened from the time he’d left her at her tent.

  “If they weren’t waiting like cowards at the tent,” asked Laden, “then where are they?” Laden melted into his chair at the head of his large pine desk. “Unless we can find evidence to support you, I’ll have no choice but to take action. I want to trust you, but as our enemy, no one will believe you without a witness. The Allies will demand blood.”

  “What kind of action?” asked Zo.

  “A hand, at least.”

  Gryphon set his jaw, too dazed to process Zo’s outraged protests. He had no desire to spend the last days of his life in horrible pain. But then Gryphon remembered that they were alone. No guards surrounding him. No bindings.

  “You’re bluffing,” Gryphon blurted. “You want to scare me, but you don’t really believe that I caused that fire.” He paused. “You don’t know what to do with me, do you?” A grin broke past the barrier of Gryphon’s careful control. He knew it was reckless to goad the Commander, but couldn’t help himself.

  This man, so exact in his punishment of his own men when they defied his orders, paused in the face of justice. Even for a Ram. Gryphon respected him for it, in spite of himself.

  A guard peeked his head through the flaps of the tent and said, “Chief Naat’s son requests permission to speak to you.” The guard glanced at Gryphon. His blond hair was pulled back into a tight knot on the top of his head, accentuating his forehead as his brows narrowed into an accusing V. “He says he has information about the Ram.”

  Zo reached out and placed a hand on Gryphon’s shoulder. Her eyes closed. Her breath turned ragged.

  Does she think I did this?

  It shouldn’t have felt like a betrayal, but it did.

  Sani entered the tent with head held high, his posture strong despite his small frame.

  Laden offered the Raven Prince a tight bow, but before he could do more, Sani spoke.

  “I assumed you believe Gryphon to be the cause of this fire. I understand the victims were the same who attacked Gryphon the day after he arrived.”

  Laden only nodded. Perhaps he hadn’t had the opportunity to converse with the intelligent kid yet. Sani always spoke with wisdom beyond his years.

  “I’ve come to offer testimony that Gryphon arrived at our tent well before the fire started, and didn’t leave until summoned by the guards.”

  If by summoned the boy meant ripped from the tent with bodily force, then he spoke truth.

  “I know you and the Ram boy share a tent, but how can you be certain?”

  “I sleep by the door and wake easily.”

  “I’m aware of the extent to which ‘Atiin will go to protect those who’ve earned their devotion. Are you sure this isn’t just a way to protect your charge?”

  “I am absolutely certain Gryphon didn’t commit this crime.”

  Laden excused Gryphon from the tent with a new set of guards assigned to follow his every move.

  “I’ll walk you back,” Laden said to Zo when they were alone. It was a short walk to the Healer’s Tent, but Zo appreciated the company.

  “The boy could be lying. Like I said before, he has motivation,” said Laden conversationally. “Raven take their role as ‘Atiin very seriously. If Sani thought I might execute Gryphon—even if the Ram had started that fire and killed someone in the process—Sani would be honor-bound to intervene.”

  The commander clearly believed Gryphon didn’t start the fire, which was good, but Zo felt a twinge of guilt for lying to the man she’d always respected. And she hadn’t been the only one to lie tonight.

  Seeing Gryphon’s swollen jaw and tasting the apprehension in the air when he’d delivered the lie about getting in a fight with Ikatou earlier that day gave her pause.

  Had he only lied about the timing of his fight with Ikatou? Or had something else happened after Gryphon left her at the tent?

  Her feelings for Gryphon had been so sure, her confidence in his character so absolute. She wanted a life with this man. A future. But his crafty lie to Laden and his flawless mask of composure drudged up memories of Gryphon inside Ram’s Gate—of the soldier trained to lie.

  “Why don’t you believe he started the fire?” Zo asked without thinking. The tremor in her voice was subtle, but she knew Laden hadn’t missed it.

  He stopped walking and stared into her face, scrutinizing every inch of her expression with a curious air. His studied gaze seemed to unlock her secrets, her every insecurity. The spell broke and he simply shrugged. “Ram don’t take honor from covert acts of violence. They think it weak and cowardly. If he wanted to take his revenge on those men, he’d look them in the eye as he did it.”

  A cold chill rolled over her skin. “I’m going to check on the injured.” She
darted into the dark tent before Laden could say anything more. Inside, low-burning embers struggled to breathe warmth into the space. The light pulsed and died, casting ominous shadows across the sleeping forms of the injured men. Millie and Tess each slept on one of the spare beds—a common practice when an injured soldier required constant care.

  Zo scratched the side of her face, where her skin felt tight and irritated. Gryphon a liar. Gryphon a Ram. Gryphon, not wholly who she thought him to be … It didn’t feel true, but the logic was hard to dismiss.

  But perhaps she was the better liar. After all, she had lied to herself, convincing herself that Gryphon’s caring for her was the same as abandoning everything he’d been raised to become.

  “What happened to your face?” Millie hovered over Zo, holding a kettle in one hand and new muslin dressing in the other. Zo blinked away the effects of a scattered and restless sleep and, in a daze, reached up to brush the hot skin around her ear.

  The skin was smooth, but tender and slightly swollen. “I … I don’t know.”

  The old woman seemed to forget how to move or speak. Her eyes glazed over and some of the color drained from her usually rosy cheeks.

  “What’s wrong?” Zo asked, sitting up and taking Millie by the arm. “What is it?”

  Zo took the hot kettle from Millie and walked over to hang it on the hook by the fire. She should have been hurrying to pack for her trip to the Kodiak, but Millie’s reaction frightened her. She forced the old woman to sit and ignored a slight pain in her ribs as she crouched before her. “You’re scaring me,” said Zo.

  Millie’s lips moved but generated no sound. When she finally did manage to speak, her voice came out in something of a choked whisper.