Nameless (Nameless #1)(54)

As usual, everything boiled down to food. Survival.

Gryphon and Ajax arrived just in time to see Zander remove an inch-thick splinter from their mess brother’s calf. He nodded approval when he saw the Raven prisoner. “Let’s get back. This wound is going to need stitching.”

One of the men mumbled something about Gryphon loaning out his Nameless healer, and everyone chuckled.

“That’s enough,” said Zander. He pulled his spear from the ground and led the group out of the clearing with a scowl on his face.

The sun was at its highest point in the sky when they reached the Gate. “Hasn’t your wife had that baby yet?” One of the mess brothers asked Ajax as Nameless turned the massive wheel and chains to open the gate.

Ajax gave an unsteady laugh. “The healers think she is still several weeks away.” He looked at Gryphon and forced a smile.





Two days, and the Seer still hadn’t come looking for Tess. Meanwhile, Zo’s reputation as the Nameless healer spread like wildfire throughout the neighboring homes. Gryphon’s mother arranged for slaves to come to Zo in the Nameless’ quarters on Gryphon’s property. If they couldn’t travel, Zo went to them.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Zo soaked strong-smelling tobacco leaves in boiling water then placed the soggy plants on the swollen ankle of a neighbor’s field worker. “It’s just a sprain.” She wrapped the ankle in linen. “Keep it elevated as often as possible.”

“I’ll do my best, ma’am.” The man must have been in his late forties, but with Nameless it was always hard to tell. The man straightened his tattered shirt and nodded gratefully as he rose to leave. Just as he reached the door, it flung open, banging against the wall. The Nameless field worker fell to the ground, unable to balance himself at the surprise of seeing Gryphon seething in the doorway. The slave covered his head with his arms and whimpered for mercy like he expected a fatal beating.

“Get out.” Gryphon barely offered the Nameless a glance. The man crawled like a frightened spider out the door without looking back.

Zo didn’t remember gathering her feet to stand, but her body reacted to Gryphon’s scowl. Dark hair fell forward to cover one side of his face. In that moment, she felt she caught a glimpse of what Gryphon’s enemies saw in battle. This was not the merciful Gryphon who’d risked his own standing with the Ram to save Tess. This was Gryphon the warrior.

She craned her neck to meet his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. She should have cowered in the corner, but anger was her first language, and she wouldn’t back down.

“I could have died today.” He pushed air out of his nose, like a bull ready to charge. “Two of my brothers were injured. One seriously.”

Zo didn’t understand why his anger would be directed at her … unless he knew about the bottles. Again, she should have faked submission, said the right things. But she couldn’t.

“My people die every day, Striker. Get over it.”

Gryphon growled and grabbed the chair by Zo’s bed. He flung it across the room. It connected with the wall and shattered to pieces.

Tess began to cry from her little hole in the floor.

Gryphon looked down at her place in the ground and frowned. The wind of his storm completely vanished. He grabbed the hair above his ears and groaned. “What am I doing?”

He left without another word.

Did he know about the bottles? If so, why had he shown her so much compassion? Why hadn’t he stopped her?

No. It was impossible.





Chapter 28





Gryphon took a moment to look around the splintered barn where the Wolf was kept to make sure he was alone. Long grass swayed around him in the morning breeze. He could hear a hundred different rhythms in that sound. A hundred melodies to match them. Most were conflicted, melancholy bits, while others were sweet and docile. Like a soft caress.

The barn reeked of stale urine. Gryphon closed the creaking door behind him and walked across the dilapidated floor carrying a satchel of supplies. The Wolf slept, his bare chest rising and falling in even time. His hair was a nest of muddy blond knots. The beginnings of a beard covered half of his face. After several days of healing, the bandage on his shoulder was finally dry. Thanks to Zo, Gryphon had managed to clean the wound and sew him up the morning after the stabbing.

When Gryphon cut the ropes the Wolf groaned awake. “Ahhh … finally.”

“You stink,” said Gryphon tossing him a pair of fresh clothes.

Joshua’s knock came right on cue. “I have the bucket.” He spilled half of its contents before setting it next to the prisoner. “There’s a brick of soap in the bottom. Should be nice and soggy by now.”

“How is she?” said the Wolf.

Joshua looked from the Wolf to Gryphon for explanation. “Who … Zo?”

Gryphon rolled his eyes. “They know each other. We practically have our own little Wolf pack staying here on the farm.”

Joshua paled. He knew the consequences of harboring one Wolf. “Three Wolves.” He let the thought simmer for a while then pointed to their prisoner. “Does Zo know he’s alive?”

Gryphon shook his head. “I can’t risk her telling anyone.”

Joshua swallowed.

The Wolf pushed up to his hands and knees. He worked up a good lather on the bar of soap. “Three?”