Fearless (Nameless #3)(50)
“You’ll find a reason to leave again,” said Tess. “You always do.”
Zo pulled Tess around to face her, hands clasping the girl’s thin upper arms, eyes penetrating with promise. “I’m sorry for everything you’ve endured over the last few months, bug. But wasn’t it worth it to bring Joshua and Gryphon into our lives?”
Tess blinked a few times and finally nodded, her gaze on the dirt floor.
“From now on, wherever I go, you will always be with me.”
Tess glanced up. “Promise,” she demanded. “Promise on the graves of our parents.”
“Tess,” Zo exclaimed. “Don’t say such things.”
The little girl folded her arms, causing the puffs of her sleeves to bunch and gather. “If you don’t promise, you don’t really mean it.”
Insecure. Afraid. Uncertain. Agonizing need to feel comforted. Zo read her sister, and her heart broke.
“I promise you, Tess. We will stay together until the day some man steals your heart and sweeps you away from me.”
Zo stepped out of her tent, smoothing down the front of her skirt, already feeling a blush warm her cheeks. She wore the most impractical pair of shoes, the soft fabric hugging her feet like gloves. She’d pulled both the shoes and the elaborately embroidered skirt from the chest of possessions that used to belong to her parents. Millie said her mother had worn the dress to the Ostara where she first met Zo’s father, who had traded a whole cart of provisions for the right to court and marry her.
The skirt, with its swirling patterns of floral clusters, hugged her waist and flowed down her legs until the hem barely kissed the ground. She wore a white blouse with a fitted leather jerkin over the top. It was strange to wear her mother’s clothing. In all of her memories, her mother was so much larger than her. To think that her mother was this size—her size—when she met and married her father amazed and even frightened Zo.
She closed her eyes, and for a brief, unguarded moment, allowed her hopes to get the better of her. What if Gryphon and Laden had come to some kind of arrangement while she was gone? They’d certainly seemed on better terms, and Laden had done away with Gryphon’s guard. It was foolish to hope, but what if tonight—with her in the same dress that helped her mother secure her father—Gryphon finally asked her to be his forever?
In the distance, a steady beating drum signaled to all the camp that the festivities were about to commence, as was tradition. Women and men filtered from their tents dressed in their best toward the training grounds, which had been turned into a proper meeting place for an Ostara. Carts lined the perimeter of the large open space, filled with foodstuffs and other wares. Oil lanterns hung from tall hooks staked into the ground before each cart and a massive bonfire roared in the center, leaving ample room for dancing. The carts would remain over the course of the next three days as goods were traded, supplies purchased, and young girls who’d come of age from all of the surrounding Wolf Packs were thoroughly admired and courted.
Zo looked around the field for a sight of Gryphon, Tess, or Joshua, and saw only a few familiar faces from the camp.
Commander Laden beckoned her from his position on a dais constructed from wood at the head of the camp. He was joined by all of the clan leaders, with the addition of Gabe, who sat in deep conversation with Chief Naat. Raca was also there, sitting on the edge of her seat on the other side of her father. Her hair was pulled up off her neck into a series of elaborate knots and braids atop her head. Her fitted buckskin dress left her defined shoulders bare. Around her neck hung at least ten beaded and feathered necklaces. In all their time together, it was the first time Raca ever really looked the part of a Raven princess.
Zo approached Raca first and offered her a small curtsy.
“Oh, please. We’re beyond that.” She reached out and took Zo’s hand.
“Have you spoken with him yet?” Zo asked, tilting her head in Murtog’s direction. The Kodiak chief sat on the opposite end of the dais with chin resting on fist as he surveyed the crowd. Raca had spent their entire journey from the Kodiak Caves avoiding the chief.
“Not yet. He’s been busy, and I’m not sure he desires my company.”
“Of course he does. The man left the Caves for you.”
Raca swatted her arm. “Don’t say such things. He came because it was the right thing to do for his people.”
Zo shrugged. No doubt Murtog was here for his people, but Raca had been the arrow to wake him from his mourning. Zo was sure of it.
Without pomp or ceremony or speeches, the Wolf musicians began their music with a nod from the Wolf Alpha seated next to Laden. With the Wolves so spread out across the Valley of Wolves, the Alpha was more of a figurehead than an outright leader. The Wolves had long ago agreed to support the Allies, not on the Alpha’s word, but by vote from each pack. Still, it was tradition for the Alpha to signal the commencement of every Ostara.
With that nod, lute, drum, pipe, and fiddle jumped into a melody that had Zo’s foot tapping and hips swaying without her permission. Gabe turned from Chief Naat and stood before her with hand extended.
“Will you dance with me, Zo?” He fidgeted. “Someone must start things off.” Then he added, “For old time’s sake?”
From the corner of Zo’s eye, Raca nodded encouragement, as if watching would bring her pleasure.