Fearless (Nameless #3)(10)
“Then why are you here?” one man at the far end of the table said. He wore a thick, dark beard and his metal-studded arm guards rested heavily on the table. “You admit you are loyal to your clan. You must be smart enough to know that we can’t let you live when your allegiance lies with our enemy.”
Gryphon’s faced heated as he stared down the table at the older man. “I’m here to deliver Zo and provide Joshua, my apprentice, a home. If it costs me my life, then so be it.” He didn’t intend to stand, but the conviction of his words demanded it. “But I will say this much,” he swung his head back to Laden and pointed a finger in the leader’s direction. “Fighting will not solve this conflict. All your army will accomplish is getting a lot of people killed. None of you can understand the strength of the Ram. Not really. Not until you’ve devoted your entire lives to training in the Agoge. So long as Barnabas is chief, the Ram will never be reasoned with.” He panted, feeling a tad foolish he’d let his temper run unchecked.
“Sit,” said Laden.
Gryphon lowered himself back into his seat and ground his teeth.
“What I don’t understand is why you let Gabe fight on the day of his execution.” A calm man—clearly Raven, judging from his smaller build and darker complexion—leaned back in his chair and folded his thin arms across his chest as he studied Gryphon in a calculating sort of way. “Why risk letting him live? Surely you knew you would be killed if the wrong people discovered your deception.”
Suddenly, Gryphon was back inside Ram’s Gate on that prizefight platform, looking down at the crowded square where hundreds of Ram and Nameless waited for him to decide how Gabe should die. It had been Gryphon’s right to determine the Wolf’s path to death since he had captured him. Zo had sat with Gate Master Leon near the stage. It was her pained expression that sealed Gryphon’s decision to let Gabe fight. It was her fearful cry that inspired the suicidal plan to fake Gabe’s death.
Did she know how much power she wielded? From that moment forward, every decision he’d made bowed to two masters: his conscience and Zo’s happiness.
Gryphon glanced down the table at the Raven. He cleared his throat and said, “I’d never met a more worthy opponent then Gabe. He didn’t deserve to die.”
“But the consequences—”
“Were nothing compared to the pull of my conscience,” Gryphon cut in.
Laden sat back, running his hand over the coarse salt and pepper stubble of his chin, a smirk lifting one corner of his mouth, disrupting the scarred lines in his face. The heads of every man seated at the table eventually turned in his direction. Laden’s gravity of presence told Gryphon that, no matter the views of the council, their leader’s opinions carried the greatest weight.
The tent flap opened. The four guards jumped aside, one foolish enough to offer a slight bow to the newcomer. The poor soldier’s cheeks turned red when he realized his mistake.
Zo’s clean and decidedly feminine appearance made Gryphon’s eyes widen. She wore a modest, traditional-looking dress, but it showcased the velvet skin of her collarbone and neck while clinging to the graceful bends and curves of her body. He envied the material and wished he could see her alone, without having to share her charms with the room of gruff men. How could he ever force himself to leave her when the time came to fulfill his promise to Ajax?
Only twenty-three days …
“It appears Gryphon’s conscience has arrived,” said the Raven who’d questioned him earlier.
“Please join us, Zo.” Laden gestured to the chair at the foot of the long table: a position of honor. One of the guards lunged toward the chair and pulled it out for her to sit. She thanked him, and Gryphon wanted to punch himself for being jealous.
When Zo sat, Laden gave the order to have food brought in. Trays of boiled potatoes, carrots, and turnips, along with steamed greens and hot bread, were placed on the table for the men and Zo to serve themselves. The crowning dish was a large mutton roast, glazed and golden and served from a spit, carried by one man from person to person and carved and served by another.
Zo’s mouth watered at the sight of the dish. Lamb was a favorite among Wolves, especially during spring and fall festivals. But sheep were sacred to the Ram, and she gently shook her head, refusing the dish out of respect for Gryphon.
Across the table, Gryphon hadn’t touched any of his food. He held his hands in his lap and politely refused the lamb as well. Gryphon looked up, noted her empty plate, and offered her a slight nod of gratitude.
He looked so handsome and clean. After spending the last few hours apart, she longed to take his hand and go for a walk in the foothills surrounding the camp. To spend time together without the threat of Clanless and Ram on their heels. To hear his deep laughter—a laugh she’d rarely heard since he’d asked her to be his in the meadow on the night after their escape from his mess unit.
What would it be like to just live a contented, peaceful life with the person you loved? She let her thoughts travel a little further down that road than she ought—thinking of her and Gryphon spending nights by a warm fire, of him carving a block of wood into some animal form or another while he hummed one of the many melodies he favored.
But he hadn’t mentioned anything about his request to claim her. And she’d been too shy to ask him to elaborate. In Wolf custom, a man had to gain the permission of the girl’s father or guardian before he could court her. She couldn’t imagine Laden granting such a thing.