by T. A. White
“The same could be said of your people if not for us,” Gerald said, a disagreeable frown on his face.
Shea sensed the tension in Fallon even as his facade remained outwardly calm.
“I call bullshit on that. We would have been fine had we never visited this place,” Zeph said, disgust in his expression.
Shea kept the twitch of her lips concealed, tired amusement stealing through her. She much preferred his plain speaking to the veiled words of the pathfinders' elders.
“How do we know you’re not the ones who brought them down on us?” Charlotte argued.
Shea’s gaze sharpened on her. Charlotte was a longtime friend of Victoria—and her mother. It seemed her loyalty to Victoria outweighed any friendship she’d once had with Lainey. Shea’s mother gave the other woman a cool look but remained silent, her hands clasped in her lap.
Her mother met Shea’s gaze with a serene expression, sending her a sly wink before her face smoothed back into calm lines. Shea relaxed, some of the tension escaping her. If her mother wasn’t worried about what was going on, it meant she had a plan.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Charlotte,” Lainey said, her voice strong and firm, giving no hint to the close brush with death she’d had only two days earlier.
“Easy for you to say, Lainey,” Charlotte replied, the disrespect obvious in her tone. “Your daughter is the one who brought them here, and your family has the most to gain by an alliance with them.”
“My daughter didn’t bring them anywhere. If anything, you have her to thank for delaying their arrival. Isn’t that right, Warlord?” Lainey asked, flicking a glance at Fallon.
There was a hint of amusement in his eyes under that impenetrable mask. Shea realized with a start that he liked her mother. Respected her even.
“It is,” he rumbled.
“Either way, it doesn’t matter what came before. What matters is now,” Lainey said in a strong voice. “The mythologicals have returned. Beasts that have not been seen for centuries, once again roam this land. They’re led by one of our own. Griffin has touched the heart of the Badlands and come back changed. We don’t know what he wants or how he controls beasts, but we do know if we don’t stop him, the world we know will come to an end.”
“Again, something that can be laid at your daughter’s feet,” a male voice said from the crowd.
“Give over, Connor,” Shea said, fed up with them. “You can’t blame me for every little thing that goes wrong. There were never any hard rules about entering the Badlands. It was frowned on, yes, but not forbidden. We did what our families had taught us, relied on our skills and knowledge to explore the unknown. Or have you forgotten what you’re supposed to stand for and the vow you took?”
Shea was tired of being blamed for the debacle of that failed mission. She’d come to realize that perhaps the failing was not with her but them. That perhaps the bad blood had more to do with her mother’s position than anything she’d done.
The guilt she’d carried for all those deaths still lingered, but it wasn’t as heavy as it had once been.
Before anyone could mount any further arguments, Caden stalked inside, a body slung over his shoulders. His eyes were flinty and hard. If looks could kill, all those assembled would be dead right now.
Shea stiffened as she noted another Anateri behind him, carrying a similar burden. Her heart dropped to her stomach as she distantly noted Fallon beside her go so ramrod still, his form could have been carved from marble.
The bodies they carried wore the clothes of the Anateri.
Even before Caden laid down the first body with a gentleness belied by the rage on his face, Shea knew what they’d see. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the man’s face. He and the other were part of Fallon’s Anateri. More—they were two of his personal guard. A man and woman Shea hadn’t known well, but who had always been friendly the few times they interacted.
“We found them after the battle,” Caden said, his gaze locked on Fallon. The controlled restraint of his voice didn’t hide just how badly he wanted to kill everything in the room. “They were tasked with guarding the traitor. Now they’re dead.”
After his words had ended, he turned to spear each person with a dark look, making no secret of the fact that he held each of them to blame.
Fallon remained motionless beside Shea, his face an implacable mask. His eyes burned, the black in them turning to fire.
Shea came to her feet and crossed to the bodies, crouching by each so she could examine their wounds closer.
“You can’t think we had anything to do with this,” Gerald said, an affronted look in his expression.
“Who else?” Fallon asked softly.
Caden crouched beside her, a remote grief in his face. She looked up to see the same expression on many of the Anateri’s faces. Every one of them knew it could have been them on that floor.
While they understood the sacrifice that they might be called upon to make in the interest of protecting Fallon’s life—that they even welcomed the chance to give their life for his—it didn’t make the loss of these two any less painful. These were their brother and sister, bonded by a common purpose, countless hours of training—people they’d spilt blood with, people they’d toasted their victories and failures with.
Yes, this loss stung. Their severe expressions were evidence of that. Trenton met her gaze, sorrow in his, grief making him seem tired in a way the battle hadn’t.
She owed it to these two to find out what happened and to avenge their loss.
“What happened to Victoria?” Shea asked in a soft voice, ignoring the protestations around her as the pathfinders professed their ignorance in what had happened.
“Gone,” Caden said. The admission seemed to offend him. “There was no trace of her.”
Shea leaned closer, lifting one of their arms for a better look at their torso and any wounds the arms might be masking, or rather the lack of them. Neither body had any evidence that might explain how their lives had been taken. There were no rips in their clothes, no blood or broken bones. Nothing.
She frowned. Both looked relatively unharmed. The only clue otherwise was the look of extreme terror on their faces, as if they’d seen something so shocking and horrifying that it had followed them into death.
There was blue around the edges of both their mouths and dark pinpricks around the upper and lower lips.
Shea felt unease at their expressions. These two had known they weren’t going to make it. Known it and been unable to do a damn thing about it. If her suspicions were correct, their deaths hadn’t been quick and easy either.
Their deaths would have been excruciatingly slow as one watched the other have the life sucked out of them, knowing the entire time they were probably next. For people used to action and having their body answer to their commands, it would have been a devastating way to go.
Shea looked up at Fallon, her face showing some of her thoughts. She didn’t say anything, she couldn’t, even if she’d wanted to, the room had descended into a shouting match where each person was trying to be heard above their neighbor.
She stood, holding Fallon’s gaze.
Fallon raised a hand, gesturing for silence. To Shea’s surprise, the council of pathfinders listened, their voices cut off suddenly.
Her warlord settled his gaze on her. “What did you find?”
Shea suddenly found herself the center of many gazes, some friendly, others not. She took a deep breath and focused on Fallon. He was the only one that mattered.
“They weren’t killed by anything human,” she said into the sudden silence.
Reece stepped forward, his face suddenly intent. He didn’t get too close to the bodies, the aggressive stances of the Anateri warned him away from that.
He looked up. “She’s right. There are no signs of wounds.”
“Then that means the blame can’t be laid at our feet,” Catherine said, her voice raised ab
ove the murmurs that had resumed as soon as Reece confirmed Shea’s pronouncement.
Shea watched Fallon, her face pensive. He looked back at her and arched an eyebrow as if to ask her to elaborate. It was an arrogant expression and once upon a time that look would have made her want to punch him in the throat. Now, it made her lips twitch despite the seriousness of the situation.
She chose to turn to Catherine, addressing the woman’s statement of before. “Not necessarily. If I’m right—”
“And we all know that you are,” Caden muttered.
Shea continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “A sorrow attacked these people.”
“Proof that we shouldn’t be held responsible,” someone said plaintively.
Shea stifled her sigh. There was a reason she had chosen a position that didn’t require much interaction with other human beings except within the scope of a mission. They were being willfully obtuse, missing a point that should have been obvious to even a child. It made her want to shake them.
“Except for the fact that it acted to eliminate Victoria’s guards,” Shea said, struggling to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. They didn’t need that. The room already balanced on a knife’s edge, violence a single, careless word away.
“You don’t see her body here, do you?” Shea gestured at the two on the ground. “No, which means the sorrow acted in her best interests. Something only one person in this whole situation has demonstrated an ability for.”
“We only have your word for that,” Gerald said.
“And mine,” Braden said, his words and expression cold. He gave the speaker an expectant look, daring them to accuse him of lying.
Shea propped her hands on her hip as she watched Gerald, wondering just how stupid he wanted to be today. The Trateri took honor very seriously. Your reputation was only as good as your word. Break it and you were considered little more than the dirt under their feet.
They’d been known to issue a blood challenge against those who questioned their honor, and it wasn’t rare for those to end in death. Something Gerald would no doubt learn if he pushed much harder.
The brief unity they’d attained during the battle seemed to be fading, and Shea didn’t know how to stop it. Worst, Shea doubted the Trateri even wanted to keep that former air of cooperation. Not with two bodies on the floor reminding them of all of the pathfinders’ faults.
“Whatever the case, someone would have had to let the sorrow into the Keep,” Lainey said. “That in itself is unacceptable, and I won’t stand for it on my watch.”
“Perhaps we should remove you as Guildmaster, given the problems that have arisen during your tenure,” Eliza said sharply.
“Don’t be a soft-headed fool,” Whelan said, a snap to his voice. “The last thing we need is you lot trying to remove Halloran. Not when there are beasts at the gates. Get your heads out of your asses and figure out a way to set your differences aside. I don’t think our guests are going to be patient with your shit very much longer.”
Laine’s eyes twinkled and she inclined her head at Whelan.
“Why would anybody release Victoria anyway?” someone said from the back of the room.
“Well, she is Griffin’s mother,” Reece said.
“The attack was very well coordinated. It could have been cover for sending something to free his mother,” Zeph rumbled, his big arms crossed over his chest.
Yes, it was. Shea looked away, her face creased in a frown as she tuned out conversation as those assembled finally started talking with each other instead of over each other.
Very well coordinated, indeed. While the Griffin of before had loved his mother, it wasn’t necessarily an emotion she would subscribe to the Griffin of now. He seemed too calculating to throw away a perfectly good ambush and distraction on something as simple as a rescue.
That thought felt right. The rest of this did not.
What could he want bad enough to risk everything in an attack of this nature?
Shea turned to look at her mother. This all came back to secrets and the sins the pathfinders tried to hide. The tunnels, the mythologicals, the beast call.
Her thoughts crystallized, clarity ringing true. There was one secret, something very few knew about. Partly because you could never fully keep a secret if other people knew. Her knowledge of it was an indicator of how true that was.
Only those at the highest levels should know of it and Griffin had never gotten even close to those heights. Even Shea’s knowledge of it was more accidental than purposeful design, partly because she’d spied on her mother a time or two when she’d been much younger. Being the curious child she was, Shea had followed her when it would have been better to leave well enough alone.
That was the reason she knew what hid in bowels of the keep—the biggest reason their guild had been founded on this spot. The Keep and its defenses were just a plausible excuse. In reality it was what was under the Keep that was the true purpose for their guild.
“Did Victoria ever receive a briefing on what lies below?” Shea asked, her gaze locked on her mother.
Lainey’s head lifted, her face horrified and suspicious. “How do you know about that?”
Shea lifted a shoulder. “You didn’t always remember to check to make sure I wasn’t hiding in your office when I was a child. I got curious about some of the things I heard and followed you.”
Laine’s expression turned censorious.
“Did she know, mother?” Shea asked, her voice serious. Now wasn’t the time for recriminations. There was more to this. Shea knew it, and she had the sinking suspicion that the “more” was about to bite them in the ass.
“What is she talking about?” one of the younger members of the council asked, his face confused.
Shea noted most council members looked oblivious at her question. Only two others refused to meet her gaze when she glanced around the room.
Shea lifted an eyebrow at her mother, not surprised when Lainey turned her head away and then shut her eyes, defeat in the slump of her shoulder. “Yes.”
That’s what Shea had thought. She’d really hoped she was wrong.
“You need to show us,” Shea told her.
Shea didn’t wait, already heading for the door. She had a feeling they were too late.
*
Shea steadied herself on the cool wall, her feet threatening to slip out from under her. This far down, the Keep wasn’t watertight, making the footing treacherous.
“How much further down can this place go?” Gawain asked behind her.
It had been so many years since she’d been down here, that she wasn’t sure. The memory of a child wasn’t always the most reliable thing in the world. She remembered impressions more than anything else, brief flashes that weren’t very informative. Her child’s mind remembered this trip as taking eons, and she’d almost given up before her mother had reached it. The only thing that had kept her from quitting was the fact that her mother had confiscated her favorite toy and she’d hoped this place was where her mother had hidden it.
“I don’t know. Mother, you want to take this one?” Shea asked, holding the candle so she could see Lainey’s face.
Her mother gave her a displeased look. It had been made obvious to all that Lainey hadn’t wanted to come on this little journey. Despite her desire for cooperation with the Trateri, there were some things so ingrained in her that she’d balked when it came to revealing one of the most dangerous weapons in their arsenal—especially given the large number of Trateri who insisted on following them down.
“Since you insist on exposing all that we have fought to protect, I think it fitting that you be the one who leads,” Lainey said in an unhappy voice.
Shea fought against a growl. Of all the times for her mother’s stubbornness to rear its ugly head.
“I don’t,” Fallon said with a bite to his words. “We don’t have the luxury of time, lady. Lead on or my men will tear this place down one sto
ne at a time. Beasts won’t be your only concern then.”
Her mother met his gaze with a stubborn one of her own. Shea’s father leaned forward and said something. Lainey’s shoulders slumped and she nodded.
“Very well,” she said, stepping past Shea.
Her mother took the candle and held it high above them until it almost touched the ceiling. Not really a difficult feat since the passages had narrowed and shortened considerably during the descent.
What they stood in now was little more than a weathered and worn passage someone had dug out eons ago. Shea couldn’t even distinguish the stone blocks anymore, which meant this was either a natural formation or carved directly into the cliff’s rock.
A shadow played along the ceiling, and Shea almost missed it, the faintest trace of a white arrow pointing to the left.
“Very clever,” Shea said, coming to stand at her mother’s shoulder.
Her mother gave her a small smile. “No one ever thinks to look up.”
Shea had to admit that was true. She could kick herself for missing the obvious. Hadn’t she had similar thoughts about others on more than one occasion?
Her mother moved forward, pausing every now and then to expose another arrow. Before long they stood in a massive cavern the likes of which reminded Shea of the passage they’d taken to come out above Bearan’s Fault. It was on a much smaller scale, but it had that same majestic feel.
The candle illuminated a pair of doors, their top a sharp arch with runes from an ancient language carved into it.
Shea couldn’t help the impulse as she touched one of those runes, tracing the words with a soft touch. A sense of wonder filled her. How long ago had this been made?
The curiosity that had fueled so much of her life weighed on her, sparking her imagination. Perhaps the maker had hoped their work would never be discovered, but if that was the case, why make this place so beautiful?
It was ethereal, the candle reflecting off the pale metal in the door in a way that made Shea think of fireflies in summer.
A pattern had been inlaid into the wood, a reflection of some Shea had seen in the Keep above, but this one was more ornate, almost disorienting in its complexity. Again, who would make such a thing and then hide it away where no one could see?
