Fearless (Nameless #3)(51)
Zo placed her hand in Gabe’s. “I’d love to, old friend. I only hope you can keep up.”
They were joined by only a few other couples. Zo and Gabe bowed and curtsied to the guests of honor on the dais then turned and bowed to each other. A wicked glint shone in Gabe’s eye as he gripped her waist and took her by the hand. The steady beat of the drum reached deep into her chest, past the plight of the Allies and the hunger of the region, past fear of losing loved ones and the worry of failure. All Zo heard was the steady rhythm of her heritage.
Her feet moved without any encouragement, the dance steps more instinct than practice. Laughter filled her chest and spilled from her mouth. She tipped her head back as Gabe spun her across the dance floor. Her skirts flew around her legs and the bonfire danced along in her blurred view. The crowd clapped out the life-giving beat and other couples joined the dance.
When the music stopped Zo’s vision didn’t, and she began to fall before Gabe caught her against his firm chest. He gave her a brotherly squeeze, then—once she had her feet—stepped away and offered a deep bow. Zo responded with a curtsy of her own, and the pair walked arm in arm out of the center of the clearing. Another tune picked up where the first left off but Zo needed a minute to catch her breath.
“You are a fine couple,” Chief Naat said as they neared the dais.
Gabe squeezed her hand and said, “We’re only dear friends, honored chief.”
The chief looked over Zo’s shoulder and frowned. “A pity.”
Just then, Gryphon arrived with Joshua at his side. The boy’s hair was combed and his clothing clean. “All this time, I thought your shirt was brown!” Zo exclaimed, wrapping the boy in a quick hug, his cheeks heating to match the flaming red of his hair.
“You should talk,” said Joshua. “Is that a skirt?”
Gryphon ruffed the boy’s hair, turning it back into the familiar mess Zo loved. “Never offend a man’s dance partner,” he said in his delicious, deep voice. Zo used to cringe whenever she heard his Ram accent. Now she associated it not with the Ram, but with the kind, gentle man she’d come to love.
“Dance partner?” she asked. As much as she wanted to dance with Gryphon, he didn’t know the steps to the traditional dances of the Wolves. She accepted his hand just as the music shifted from a fast-paced jig to a slower melody.
In this dance, men were supposed to take their partner by the waist and let their free hand hang by their side. It was called the “Seeing Dance,” the point being to allow the couple to really look at each other and talk as they moved through the complicated steps.
“If you want, I can teach you,” Zo offered. “You’re coordinated enough that I’m sure you’ll learn it in no time.”
Gryphon led her to a spot close to the fire and musicians. “I think I’ll be fine, thank you.”
He took her waist in his warm hand and, without missing a step, led her through the dance. Zo gawked at him. Though it was slower, this dance was not as simple as the one she’d had with Gabe.
“How did you—”
“Gabe.”
Her mouth formed a round O as her gaze shifted to Gabe, who watched them from a spot near the dais where he danced with Raca. A tear of gratitude leaked from the corner of her eye. It was the perfect apology for his dishonesty and such a Gabe thing to do.
“He’s not all bad,” said Gryphon, echoing her own thoughts. His face turned distant and after a few moments he added, “If anything should happen to me in this war, you should—”
Zo’s mirth quickly dissolved into something completely different. “Don’t,” she warned. “Don’t even speak it!”
Gryphon sighed and pulled her close enough to plant a chaste kiss on her forehead. “I have no intention of giving you up, even to death. I just want you to know that your future happiness is everything to me and if it had to be someone else, I can’t think of a better man.”
He’d said it. Giving voice to the fear she’d ignored since they arrived in camp and he’d accepted a training position in Laden’s army. Zo had lost so much since her parents’ deaths. She’d endured the Gate, the Clanless, and the Caves. But losing Gryphon after everything they’d managed to survive would be the end of her. Of that she had no doubt.
“Hey,” he took her chin between thumb and forefinger. “Forget I mentioned it. Tonight is supposed to be a celebration.”
The song ended, and Laden called for the attention of the crowd, cutting off the Wolf musicians before they could start into another melody.
“Usually an Ostara brings together packs from across the Valley of Wolves to trade and discuss threats to the region. This historic event marks the first Ostara to officially include Wolf, Raven, and Kodiak. As such, we will break tradition and invite our brothers of the wing and claw to entertain us with some of their native songs and dances.” He turned to Chief Naat, who didn’t seem at all surprised by the announcement.
The elderly man stood and escorted his daughter down the dais to a crowd of clustering Raven positioned around the fire. A drum pounded a deep boom, and was soon joined by the clattering of wood blocks being scraped and clapped together in rhythmic variations with the drum. Four men with feathered headdresses and feathers fastened down their arms walked on either side of Raca, then stood motionless.