Fearless (Nameless #3)(76)
Laden frowned. “You really do love him, don’t you?”
She couldn’t admit or deny that she did. How could you properly describe the constant heat of the sun or the comfort found by the light of a fire on a cold night? It was her reality. No labels could do it justice.
“Before battle, women of the Ram stay up the night before their soldiers leaves to clean and polish their armor and weapons until they can see their own reflection in the metal. They consider it a small service compared to their husband’s risk, but I know it means a great deal to them.” He cleared his throat. “I meant to have one of my wards clean and polish a set of armor taken from the body of a Ram in the slot canyon … ” His voice trailed off, and when he spoke again it was through thick emotion. “The shield is old, passed down from father to son in the Ram tradition. Ram see it as a mark of family and honor.”
“May I take his armor to my tent tonight?” she swallowed. “May I clean it for him?”
Laden cupped her cheeks and bent down, pressing a fatherly kiss to her forehead. “Of course.”
In her tent, Zo dipped a rag into an oil polish Millie had scavenged. She made slow work of cleaning the shield, moving the rag in methodic circles until the metal gleamed.
Zo was not Gryphon’s wife, neither did she possess any claim to him, but she needed to do something. Some gesture to show her gratitude for all he’d done for her and Tess. Some way to demonstrate exactly how she felt about him.
Joshua hadn’t come back from talking to Gryphon. Zo doubted she’d see him before morning. Tess sat on a blanket next to Raca, singing one of their mother’s healing songs.
After an hour of work, all of the major marks and blemishes on the shield were gone, leaving behind a number of dents and grooves made by enemies who had failed to kill the shield’s owner. Marks chronicling the life of a Ram.
The wax candle dripped low, becoming more fat than tall as time passed. Zo worked a whetstone along the edge of his sword. It made a chilling sound, a high song promising death. The skin on her arms turned to goose flesh. The vibration of the stone was felt from the tips of her fingers to the very center of her being.
The words of the blessing came unbidden. A song as high and sweet as the singing of the blade. She blessed sword and armor, shield and spear, pushing her love and strength into the metal and wood. And, surprising even her, the wood and metal accepted the gift. Fibers tightened. Metal fused and flexed into something … more than it was before.
Zo’s eyes drooped. Her arms grew heavy. When the task was finally finished, Zo blew out the exhausted candle and didn’t bother crawling over to blankets to sleep beside Tess. Instead, she lay down next to Gryphon’s weapons and hefted the round shield over her body like a hard blanket. Looping her arm in the strap made it feel as though Gryphon was lying beside her, their arms locked.
Until sleep took her.
Gryphon couldn’t sleep those final hours. But he did dream. He imagined Zo in his arms, the feel of her body. The honey sweet taste of her lips moving slowly against his. He let himself believe that they were companions for life. That they grew old together. They had a small farm with a vibrant garden filled with Zo’s healing herbs. His shield hung on the wall as decoration more than a tool of war. He raised his children without beatings. Strong, like their mother. A happy life where he kept the people he loved safe from the struggle of the clans.
It wasn’t real. Even in his dream, he knew it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Zo had hardly gotten settled under Gryphon’s shield when the sun woke her. She flipped over the shield and studied her pale complexion in its reflection. Her hair stuck out at odd angles and a line creased her cheek where the shield had pressed against it in the night. Of all the times to want to be pretty, she thought.
She released her night braid and let the long, dark strands flow where they desired. She straightened her billowing white shirt and scrubbed a streak of dirt from her jaw.
Satisfied, she turned the brilliant shield on its back and loaded Gryphon’s weapons and armor on top. Zo lifted the shield with some difficultly, battling the weight as much as the balance of the load. Luckily, Gryphon’s tent wasn’t too far from hers. Most men were still in bed. The few that were up wandered among the tents, casting curious glances in her direction. Bacon grease and campfire smoke wafted through the air.
At Gryphon’s tent she heard the faint rustling of movement from within. “Gryphon? Are you up?” She pushed open the tent flap just as he pulled up a pair of cotton trousers. His warrior chest leaped as he hurriedly tied the pants at his waist.
“I’m sorry,” said Zo. “I … ” He was beautiful. All shoulders with thick ropes of muscle coiled around biceps and forearms, knotting in just the right places. “I shouldn’t have barged in.”
His eyes were red.
“I’ve brought you … ” She stopped, wishing she knew the proper way to do this. She wanted to do it right. “I’m not sure how this is done … ”
Gryphon wordlessly took the shield from her arms and set it on the ground. Zo could see his temples pulse as he clenched his jaw. He cleared his throat, never once taking his eyes off hers. “You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to.” She swallowed hard. “Isn’t there some sort of ceremony to this?” She gestured to the pile of armor resting on the ground next to him.