Fearless (Nameless #3)(45)
Millie must have read his surprise. “He’s overseeing the team of men preparing the Kodiak sector for Murtog’s arrival.” She set down a bowl of porridge and a plate of sausage links.
“Are you trying to fatten me up?” Gryphon lifted a sausage to her in salute before taking a bite. He couldn’t stifle a groan of pleasure as he chewed. “I’ll never be satisfied with trail food again.”
Millie did her best not to appear flattered, making her usual scowl pained. She used the folds of her dress to grab the kettle from over the fire so not to burn her hand.
“Tell me, Millie, do you honestly think Murtog and the rest of the Kodiak will come?”
Milled filled his cup with the steaming brown tea and returned the kettle to the hook above the fire. “With Zo, anything is possible.”
Gryphon nodded his agreement. He didn’t like the idea of Zo baiting the Kodiak here, but the girl could be persuasive. He snorted at the irony of him, a Ram, sipping tea in an enemy camp. Yes, Zo was a woman for whom men would change the order of the stars. Even the thought of their last kiss made his hand tremble as he reached for his cup.
“I didn’t start that fire,” Gryphon said, when Millie set a hot scone on his plate.
“If the Commander says you’re innocent, that’s good enough for me.” She gave a decided nod, but then her certainty seemed to waver. “Two more men went missing last night, did you know?” she spoke in low tones, checking the entrance of the tent for listening ears.
Gryphon’s whole body stiffened. He swallowed and shook his head.
Millie wiped her brow with the hem of her apron. “Something is happening inside this camp.” She took a step toward the tent flaps. “Be careful, Ram. Someone seems determined to make you out to be our enemy.” She turned and walked stiffly out—likely to the Healer’s Tent to look after the burn victims.
Gryphon studied the wall of the tent. His mind raced at the implication of this new development. He could easily fathom someone trying to sabotage his reputation. But were these missing men deserters, or had something actually happened to them? A sense of foreboding filled his gut. The Allies couldn’t afford to have enemies working against them within the camp.
He finished his meal, determined to speak to Commander Laden. Just as he stood to leave the tent, the soft sounds of sniffling reached his ears. Pushing up from the table, careful not to make noise with the wooden chair, he walked toward the whimpering. Only one creature in this camp could be the owner of such a high, heart-melting sound.
“Tess?” he gently called. Half of the Commander’s tent housed his paper-scattered desk; the other half was separated by a cloth divider. He pulled back the cloth to find a bed and a wooden chest. At the foot of the bed, Tess sat hugging her legs to her chest.
She looked up at Gryphon and quickly rotated to show him her back before hurriedly wiping the tears from her cheeks.
“Tess?” Gryphon frowned. “Are you hurt?”
Her back still facing him, she shook her head. The movement sent her wild blond hair dancing along her narrow back. A comb sat abandoned at her side.
Gryphon had almost no experience with children, but instinct brought him to sit on the ground a few feet away. “Will you tell me why you’re crying?” he asked.
She shook her head again.
Gryphon grimaced then looked down at the comb. He cleared his throat. “I can help you with that … if you like.”
She glanced back to see him gesture to the comb. Her big eyes were rimmed in red. “Do you know how?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
“I will if you teach me.”
Tess pinched her lips together and after only a moment’s indecision, picked up the comb and crawled the few feet separating them. “Start and the bottom, and then work your way up.” She handed him the comb, and as an afterthought added, “Don’t tug.”
Gryphon lifted a snarled portion of Tess’s hair and carefully worked the comb through the blond strands. After a few minutes Tess said, “You can go faster.”
“But you said not to tug.”
The little girl released a long-suffering sigh. “I just wish … ” Her voice took on a shaky quality. Another sniffle meant more tears.
“What is it, Tess?”
She didn’t answer and Gryphon kept combing.
Finally, with forced sincerity she said, “Zo usually combs my hair. Millie hurts.”
“Is that why you’re hiding in here?”
Tess shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Gryphon picked up another section of hair. “You miss her, don’t you?”
He was getting better at knowing when to be gentle and when to be firm with the comb.
Tess wiped another tear from her cheek. Her back stiffened. “I don’t miss her. I hope she never comes back.”
Gryphon’s hands froze in her hair. “You don’t mean that.” He finished combing the final section and set the comb down.
Without warning, Tess turned and jumped into his lap, pressing her wet face into his shirt. The effort of crying shook her tiny frame. Gryphon gathered her to him and held her, shocked by the sudden change. “It’s all right, Tess.” He caught himself swaying back and forth, rocking her again on instinct. “Shh, it’s all right.”
He held her for several minutes without pestering her further about her tears.