The Guardian's Keeper (The Guardian Trilogy, Book 1) (22 page)

His
eyes lit up as he clapped his hands with glee. “You accept? You will be my bride?” Claire nodded mutely.

Garridan yanked the small leather pouch out of his pocket and produced the ring again. Claire held her ring finger out and h
e slid on the engagement ring. “I knew you would come around. It would be impossible for you not to,” he gloated.

Claire met his eyes but her somber expressi
on did not dim Garridan’s joy. “You will be happy, I will make you very happy, I promise, my beautiful bride. And since you are of Gypsy blood, our children will be Gypsies too!” He grabbed Claire around the waist and twirled her around. She obliged, stiff in his arms. His touch made her skin crawl, but she would adjust to him- in time. There was nothing for her anymore, no family, no love. Claire was certain she would never love again. With Nikoli dead, her life was a bleak wasteland before her. She figured she might as well marry Garridan. She didn’t love him, didn’t even like him, but she knew he would be true to his word and provide for her. By marrying Garridan she could stay with the Camp and be protected and cared for. She was dead inside and didn’t care if she married a man she despised if that man would make her life easier. If there could be no emotional joy in their union for her at least she could gain physical comfort.

Garridan
placed her back on the ground. “We must go and tell Renka, this is something to celebrate!” He grasped her hand to lead her back to Renka’s caravan.

“I can’t, you go,” she said quietly. “
We destroyed the Fang, I’m exhausted, I need to lie down for a while- you can tell Renka,” she pleaded as she slipped her hand out of his grasp.

Garridan leaned in as if to kiss her goodbye but Claire ducked out of t
he way. He frowned.

“Not yet,” Claire explained. “
We’re not married yet.”

Garridan’s grin returned. “
Okay, we will wait. But we must plan the wedding to be soon, I have waited long enough for my American!” he teased as he headed off to announce their engagement to Renka.

Claire made her way back to Anya’s caravan as her mind raced. She had no interest in having a physical relationship with Garridan but she knew
it would be expected of her once they were married. She loathed the thought but felt too hollow inside to care. She would deal with it when she had to- for now she could put him off until the wedding.

She sank back onto the bed in the caravan and dozed off. Between her grief over the loss of Nikoli and her overwhelming apathy about what was to come in her future all she wanted to do was sleep. Her dozing was interrupted when
Anya burst through the door.

“You marry Garridan?”
she asked, her accent thicker than usual as her excitement level rose.

“Yes, I accepted,”
Claire explained as she tried to shake off her aborted nap.

“
But you not love Garridan, you love Nikoli,” Anya declared.

Claire shrugged. “
Nikoli is dead now, Garridan wants to marry me. I couldn’t love a man ever again, what’s the difference if I marry Garridan or some other guy? None of them are Nikoli. It doesn’t matter who I marry now.”

“That not true.” Anya shook her head.
“Garridan good guy, act bad sometimes. But you don’t want him, you should not marry. It is what you want?”

“Sure,” Claire conceded. “
If I marry him, I can stay here in Camp, with you.”

Anya studied her carefully. “
I am happy he is happy, but I am sad you are not. I hope you do this with much thought. But I am happy you will stay with us.” She gave Claire a quick hug. “Renka wants to see you about the wedding, you go now.”

Claire
headed off to Renka’s caravan, taking her time as she went. As she passed through the Camp some people ran up to her to shake her hand and pat her on the back. She couldn’t understand what they were saying but the message was clear- people had heard of her engagement to Garridan and were offering their congratulations and approval. She offered them small smiles in return, but noticed a few young women her age simply glared at her from a distance. They wouldn’t approach her, they were too angry and jealous she was to be Garridan’s bride.

When she reached
Renka’s caravan she found a group of women outside, waiting for her. They sprang into action, taking Claire’s measurements and fussing over her hair.

“We make wedding dress,” o
ne woman explained kindly. Claire just nodded. “Why you not happy?” the woman asked. “Garridan best man of Camp, all the girls want to be his.”

Claire shrugged nonchalantly. She wanted to tell the woman she didn’t love Garridan a
nd never would, that her heart died with Nikoli. Nothing mattered anymore to her.

Renka came out of her caravan and pulled
Claire into a strong embrace. “It will be done,” she announced. “Tomorrow afternoon, you will wed Garridan. The women will ready your dress, hunters are out preparing for the feast we will have in celebration.” She held Claire at arm’s length, studying her. She lowered her voice so only Claire could hear her. “I know you are sad, now, it will pass. You are making a good choice. Garridan is a fine young man. You are both strong, fighters. Your marriage will be a happy one, you will see. He cherishes you so, you are lucky. Your tea leaves told me you would be bound to your true love by blood, and it is true. Garridan told me what happened at the cabin, he spilled his own blood to protect you.” She cradled Claire’s face in her withered old hands. “Sometimes what we hope will come to pass and what really happens are very different, but it is no matter. You are of Gypsy descent, you belong here with us. It is only natural a woman as strong as a Keeper is paired with a man as strong as Garridan. It is right.”

Claire looked back at her passively with dead eyes. The world held nothing for her anymore. If she could not join Nikoli in his grave at least she
could make these people happy. She no longer cared what happened to her.

The women finished their preparations and hurried off to begin sewing Claire’s wedding gown. Renka lifted her hand to examine her engagement
ring. She nodded in approval.

“
You rest now. Tomorrow is a big day.” She patted Claire’s shoulder affectionately. “I hope I live to see your children, my great-great grandchildren. They will be strong and beautiful, like their parents.” With that she slowly made her way back into her caravan.

With a sigh Claire walked back to Anya’s caravan, once again stopped by multiple
Camp members expressing their approval of her impending marriage. When she finally made it back to Anya’s caravan she found Garridan there, waiting for her.

“My bride!”
He pulled her into a smothering embrace. Claire put her uninjured arm around him but did not squeeze him back. He didn’t seem to notice. “Tomorrow we will be united, forever. The next time I see you, you will be mine!” He gave Claire an extra squeeze for emphasis. “I will go now, it is not proper for me to see you tonight, you must stay in Anya’s caravan. But tomorrow,” he kissed the top of her head and Claire forced herself not to shrink away from him, “we will be one.”

Garridan released her and held her at arm’s length. Claire
’s expression remained wooden. “I see you are nervous about the wedding night, eh?” Garridan chuckled. “I will be gentle with you, my American, you will see. You go rest now, tomorrow night we will be too busy for sleep.” He gave her a lecherous wink. “I will see you at our wedding!” He sauntered off as various men in the Camp gathered around him, slapping his back in boisterous camaraderie.

Claire settled back in to bed and drifted
off quickly. Above all else she wished for the next day and night to pass quickly. She could not share in the joy of the Camp about her union to Garridan and just wanted to get it over with.

C
hapter 29

Anya woke her up the next morning. She offered her a plate of warm bread and honey. “Eat now. Today is busy. You eat, then you go wash in stream. Later you get wedding dress on.”

Claire sat up and accepted her breakfast. She ate quickly, unable to taste or enjoy the delicious food. She just wanted to get the day over with. When she finished she jo
ined Anya outside.

“This is
Yokov,” Anya introduced her to the bearded gentleman, who nodded politely at Claire. “He will bring us to the stream so you can clean up.”

Claire followed Anya and
Yokov out of Camp, up the path she had once traveled with Garridan on her first morning there. As they reached the point in the path where they could hear the stream gurgling Yokov stopped with Anya. Anya handed Claire a basket of towels, a bar of soap, and clean clothes.

“
You go wash up, I stay here with Yokov. If you yell for me I will hear you, I stay and make sure Yokov doesn’t look.” She said something rapidly to Yokov who nodded and turned his back to the stream. Anya waved Claire on and did the same, giving her privacy to undress and wash up.

Claire traveled u
pstream a short distance to a pool formed by a small waterfall over some large rocks. She undressed, carefully removing her sling, and eased herself into the pool. It was about waist deep and ice cold. The frigid water stung her all over as she submerged herself completely. The pain was welcome. All Claire had felt since Nikoli’s death was numbness. The pain was a startling change from the bleak nothingness that defined her now.

Tears fell as Claire emerged from under the water. Everything felt pointless to her now.
Stavros was gone, the Fang destroyed, and Nikoli along with it. What did it matter if she married a man she despised? Without Nikoli nothing mattered anymore. She cried quietly, standing in the frigid pool, mindful not to make too much noise and alarm Anya or Yokov.

“Dry your tears, brave Keeper,” a
voice nearby commanded, startling Claire out of her misery. She hunkered down lower in the pool to hide her exposed body.

On one of the rocks above
her sat a graceful blond woman. She was bathed in light, making it hard for Claire to look at her directly.

“Who are you?”

“I am Circe, the long forgotten Goddess of Magic.” Claire gasped. “I know of your deeds, and am grateful you disposed of Stavros for good. I know of your pain over the loss of your Guardian, your love. I know of your plans to marry another, one you do not love.” She regarded Claire regally. “You go on with the plans as they have been laid, Keeper, but remember you have yet to be rewarded by the Gods for your service to us. All is not lost; there will be joy for you yet again.” Before Claire could reply Circe faded away and was gone.

Claire’s mouth hu
ng open in astonishment. Circe, a real Goddess, the one who had helped originally destroy Stavros, had chosen to appear to her, a desperate, broken hearted girl. Claire absentmindedly began washing herself. Circe had told her to go on with the wedding ceremony. She had planned to anyways, but now she wondered what was in store for her in a new life with Garridan. Her mind spun as she tried to decipher the cryptic mention of a reward from the Gods and future joy in her life. She could not imagine ever feeling joy again. But the promise of such from the mouth of a Goddess lifted Claire’s spirits.

She finished cleaning up and dressed in the clean outfit Anya had provided for her.
Once she was finished she headed back to the Camp with Anya and Yokov. Back in Anya’s caravan her wedding dress had been laid out for her. She examined it carefully as Anya looked on.

It was a simple pure white dress with a dropped waist that led down to piles of ruffles and long train, b
eaded with small silver beads. The neckline was modest but bared her shoulders. It buttoned all the way up the back with tiny silver buttons.

“
We never have such a fancy dress for wedding here before,” Anya marveled as she looked at the details that went into the dress.

“
They must have been up all night, sewing this,” Claire replied. She was touched by the gesture- a lot of women of the Camp had worked very hard to make her this beautiful dress for her wedding.

A portly woman came into the caravan and spoke to Anya. Anya nodded and the woman gestured outside to a few oth
er ladies standing about.

“Come,” Anya patted the stool. “
It is time to get ready, wedding is soon.”

Claire sat down
and let her mind wander as the caravan filled with the ladies of the Camp. They fussed over her, arranging her hair, applying her makeup, adorning her with jewelry. Claire was cooperative as the women made and remade her, letting her mind wander. What did Circe mean about a reward from the Gods?

Finally the women were satisfied with their results and helped her slip into her dress. For the ceremony they kept her sling off, though her shoulder was still sore from the dislocation. One of the ladies ducked outside and brought back a full-length mirror to show Claire how she looked.
Another woman handed her a bouquet of wild lilies.

Claire studied her reflection in the mirror. She looked gaunt and tired, she lacked the glow of a new bride, but she knew she looked stunning none the less. The dress fit her perfectly, hugging her feminine curves. Her hair was piled up on top of her head with tendrils of curls cascading down here and there, emphasizing her slender ne
ck. She made a glorious bride.