Nameless (Nameless #1)(44)
Gryphon looked up, surprised to see the white-haired Historian, Barnabas’ grandmother. He fell over himself trying to stand, knocking the table with his knee in the process. “Of course.”
The Historian’s presence seemed to stop the whole ceremony. Sara and Eva’s father stood from the center of the head table. “You do us a great honor, Wise One.” He bowed to the Historian.
She nodded and gestured that the ceremony should continue before taking her seat next to Gryphon.
The backdoor to the home was painted red, representing the blood that accompanies new life. Eva stepped out of the house, and turned to shut the red door. The death of her old life. She stood before the engagement party dressed in fur boots and a long wool dress of simple design. Her hair fell down to the middle of her back. She was a plain girl with a small mouth and Ram nose, but the smoke of the fire and the whimsical mood of the evening made her breathtaking.
The Historian lifted a shaking hand to wipe a tear that escaped her lashless eyes. “Poor lamb,” she mumbled to herself.
Gryphon wrinkled his brow. Wasn’t this supposed to be a happy occasion?
And yet, Eva did seem somber, for some reason.
Eva stepped inside the square of tables where Taurus waited with a smile too large for his face. He handed Eva a wand of sage and placed his round shield at her feet. She stepped up to the altar, twisting the bundle of herbs in her hands.
Eva’s whisper sent a wave of chills up Gryphon’s back. “I claim your shield as my shield. May it protect our family and always bring you home.” She dropped the sage into the fire. It hissed and cracked, causing fragrant clouds of smoke to rise from the flame and waft over the group.
Taurus drew his knife. He stepped closer to Eva and gathered her hair in his fist. “I claim your beauty and your womb. May our family bring honor to the Ram.”
Gryphon flinched as Taurus pulled his knife through Eva’s hair, leaving only a few inches from her scalp. Marking his territory.
The Historian seemed to exhale after holding her breath. “God protect that girl.”
The couple turned to face each other. Taurus sheathed his blade and took his intended by the hands. Just as they bent to kiss—the last rite of the engagement ceremony—Gryphon again spotted the Nameless man in the forest. He looked wild and anguished. A bear caught in a deadly trap.
Gryphon unconsciously put hand to the hilt of his short sword, but the Historian touched his arm. She stared at the wounded-looking Nameless and subtly shook her head. Her lips formed the word, “No,” though no sound escaped them.
The man in the forest bit into the back of his hand and stared one last time at the newly engaged couple, then darted away.
The couple kissed and the engagement was official. They would wait the standard month before the chief announced them man and wife, giving both bride and groom time to prepare for their new life together.
“Who was that man?”
The Historian studied Gryphon from the corner of her eye. “You have not earned the right to know that, Gryphon, son of Troy.”
Gryphon blanched at the use of his father’s name. “What does that mean?”
The Historian turned and took one of Gryphon’s hands. She turned his palm to the sky and ran her finger along its creases. “You are a gifted warrior, Striker. But that tells me nothing of your character.” Her knobby finger froze as the lines of his hand intersected. Her head whipped up, mouth open. Fast as an arrow, her hand reached up and took hold of Gryphon’s chin. She squinted, staring into the depths of his eyes for several seconds.
Just as quickly as it happened, the old woman dropped her hold. “How is the Nameless healer faring?”
“She is fine, I suppose.” Gryphon didn’t think it necessary to mention the fact that she’d been stabbed by a pitchfork within minutes of arriving at his family home.
The old woman snorted. She struggled to her feet as people around them took turns congratulating the newly engaged couple. She took hold of the key around Gryphon’s neck. “Give the Wolf my greetings.”
All of the blood rushed from Gryphon’s face as the old woman, with cane in hand, hobbled over to Eva. The throng of well-wishers parted as the clan’s matriarch approached the bride. She took Eva’s face in her hands. The girl bent her head and accepted a light kiss on her brow. Gryphon couldn’t hear the words the old woman whispered in the girl’s ear, but Eva cracked her first genuine smile of the evening.
It was several minutes before Gryphon’s shock wore off enough to approach the bride. He numbly pulled out a small dove-shaped carving and pressed it into Eva’s hands before others would notice, still ashamed of his time-wasting talent.
“A dove for joy.” He, like all the rest, bent to kiss her brow.
Eva looked up at him and a tear streaked down her cheek, chased immediately by a second. She shook her head. “You’re wrong.” A smile broke through the obvious, yet inexplicable agony in her face. “The dove is the symbol of hope, too, did you know?” She fingered the carving. “Thank you, Striker. For giving me hope.”
Chapter 23
Gryphon’s mother, Mrs. Drea, barged into the room carrying a bundle of clothing. “Well, I’ve finally found good use for you.” She dropped a long, wool dress on the bed and urged Zo to change out of her worn Medica clothes.