by T. A. White
Fiona and her men trailed Shea and Trenton as they swept through the forest. The horses were allowed to roam in the meadow that had popped up due to a gap in the canopy above. The wildflowers and long grass made it perfect for grazing, and the open space made it easy for Eva and her friend to care for them.
One of the horses, a white gray mare with a black mane and tail, and gray spots on her lower legs trotted up to Eva. She butted the woman playfully and then tossed her head. Eva patted her absently, her eyes on the meadow around them.
“She’s a beauty,” Fiona said, her eyes on the horse.
“Last herd master wanted to put her down because he thought she was too aggressive,” Eva said stroking the mare’s nose. To the mare, she crooned, “You just thought the man was an idiot, didn’t you sweetheart?”
One of Fiona’s men stepped close, his hand going up to touch the horse’s neck. The mare squealed and wheeled, her lips pulling back as she tried to nip the man. Eva grabbed the horse’s head and pulled before the mare could trample the other man.
“Hey, just ignore the fool,” Eva told the mare, her voice soft and gentle. “Just because someone’s rude doesn’t mean we have to go get all bent out of shape.”
Shea chuckled. She liked the herd mistress.
“How long have you been with this herd?” Shea asked.
Eva continued patting the mare even as she threw a glance at Shea. “Not long. A few months at most.”
“We don’t normally accept women as tribute,” Braden said, thoughtful eyes on Eva.
Eva’s smile was humorless. “I wasn’t tribute.”
“Someone claimed you as a telroi?” Trenton asked.
She shook her head. “My village cast me out. One of the warbands found me and offered to take me with them. I didn’t see much of a choice.”
“Brave,” Fiona said, a bit of respect on her face. “Not many women would be so accepting.”
Eva’s smile was gentle as she looked up at the mare. “Their horses made the risk worth it.”
The mare let out a loud snort as its ears laid back and its tail swished aggressively. It lifted its head and pawed the ground.
Eva stepped back, her gaze going to the forest around them as the mare alerted them to the danger. The others with them immediately went on alert, weapons coming out as they eyed their surroundings.
The forest was quiet—the trees looming like silent watchers.
The mare lifted half up and then came back to the ground, stomping as she released a scream of challenge.
Charles took several unsteady steps back, fear showing on his face. Clark had already drawn the bow and arrow he’d brought.
A large form, about the size of a dog, appeared in the grass not far from them. Its yellow eyes focused on Shea and her group. It was a bandisox, smaller than the tracks had indicated, but bigger than any she’d seen before.
The mare used her shoulder to herd Eva away from the bandisox.
“Don’t shoot.” Shea’s voice was eerily calm.
“Kill it,” Charles said, his voice tight.
“No, not yet. Look in the trees above it,” Shea said.
Above them, massed on the branches like crows, were a swarm of bandisox. The grass rustled on both sides of their group.
“I was wrong. The colony is much bigger than I thought.” Shea’s voice was grim. It had probably grown in the weeks that it had taken for Eva to get someone to listen to her.
Two bandisox, ones that dwarfed those in the trees, slunk closer. A high-pitched chittering escaped them as they broke off to circle Shea and the others. The mare whirled as one of the bandisox came close, rising onto her hind legs and trying to stomp the rodent under her hooves. The bandisox darted out of the way, letting out a high screech of its own. Another sought to take advantage of the mare’s distraction, sailing across the grass to attack the hindquarters.
Eva let out a war cry and hit it with a rock she grabbed from the ground. There was a pained grunt as the bandisox landed before turning on Eva. It didn’t make it far before the mare gave a rear kick, sending it sailing back into the grass.
This seemed to be a signal for the rest. They surged forward.
The Trateri next to Shea let out bloodcurdling cries as they met the surge with naked blades and a fearsome ferocity. The next few minutes were a tangle of images as the Trateri fought off the bandisox, the mare at their side.
Shea wielded her blade against several as they converged on her. She suffered several bites as she stabbed and swung. One landed on her shoulder, its small teeth sinking into her back, before Trenton knocked it off her.
A mad light flared in his eyes before he turned to attack the next bandisox with a battle cry.
It wasn’t long before they had killed all those that attacked them. Shea panted as she watched her surroundings, bandisox dead all around them.
“I think that’s the last,” Fiona said, coming to stand beside Shea. She clapped Shea on the shoulder. “Glad we tagged along with you. This was fun. We should do it again sometime.”
Shea eyed the other woman with an expression close to disbelief. Fun. Right. Their definitions differed wildly.
“Your throwaway did a pretty good job herself,” Fiona said, gesturing with her chin to where Eva stood, exhausted, the mare dropping her chin onto Eva’s shoulder. “Better than some of us, anyway.”
Fiona eyed Charles with a hint of distaste as the other man limped back towards them. He’d tried to abandon them when the bandisox attacked, leaving them to fend for themselves. Unfortunately, the bandisox had surrounded him so he hadn’t gotten far.
“He’s not a warrior,” Shea said in his defense.
“Neither is the Lowlander,” Trenton said in a soft voice at her side.
“Not everybody is made for battle,” Shea returned.
The quiet that answered her made the others’ stance on Charles clear. He’d lost respect by trying to run. Shea didn’t fault him for his actions. Everyone’s response to danger was different. The Trateri didn’t see it that way, and there was a definite difference in how the others treated him, with the exception of Clark, who greeted the other man with relief.
Shea turned away and began walking into the forest.
“Where are you going?” Braden asked.
“There’s a nest somewhere around here. We need to take care of it, or else Eva will have the same problem in a week or two.”
Fiona and her men pulled themselves up. Fiona stepped forward. “My men and I will help. We’re not bad trackers.”
Shea gave them a nod of appreciation.
Eva patted the mare on the neck before joining them. “I will help as well since I’m the reason you’re here.”
Trenton and Wilhelm didn’t offer their services. They didn’t need to. Where Shea went, they did as well. Yet Shea couldn’t help noticing the respect on both of their faces when they looked at Eva.
“Clark, take Charles and head back. This could take a while, and I’m sure you both have other duties,” Shea said.
Charles’ face darkened. “We can help. You don’t have to protect us.”
“Yes, you can,” Shea agreed. “You can write up the description and a few points from this experience, and then make sure it gets into the hands of the rest of the herd masters. They need to know what to watch out for so they can protect their herds.”
Shea wasn’t lying. The task was an important one. Even if it hadn’t been, she would have found some way to send Charles back. He wasn’t suited for this work. Nothing wrong with that, but it didn’t change facts.
The look on Charles’ face said he doubted her reasoning but a glance at Braden told her he didn’t want to argue in front of the general.
Clark covered for his friend. “Of course, Shea. We’ll make sure that it’s done.”
The two set off towards camp.
“That was kind of you,” Braden observed.
“Not particularly. I needed it done.”
He made a
hmm sound that was neither agreement nor disagreement.
Shea took the lead, trusting the others to follow. It was going to be a long afternoon.
CHAPTER TEN
SHEA WAITED as Trenton and Wilhelm conducted their checks of Fallon’s tent—though she didn’t see much point to it, given the guards stationed at all times at the entrance. She was tired, and the scratches and bites she’d received from the bandisox stung. She just wanted to get inside, bathe, and rest for a little bit before dinner.
Trenton gave her a nod, indicating it was safe. She pushed past him, grateful the outer chamber was empty.
Passing through the partition that separated the private quarters from the public ones, she headed for the mound of furs piled on their bed. A bath would take time to draw up. In the meantime, the bed called to her. A short platform covered by a thick mattress, it was the heaviest piece of furniture in the room. It was elegant in its simplicity, not approaching the ornateness or heaviness of a bed found in a Lowland or Highland home. The mattress managed to be soft and firm at the same time, a welcoming cloud of comfort that Shea was loath to leave more often than not. Before Fallon, she would have said that a soft place to sleep was an unimportant luxury. A few nights in his bed had changed her mind.
After sleeping on the hard ground last night and then running around the forest chasing bandisox, she was sore—something she would never have noticed before her time with Fallon and his bed. She’d become weak. Dependent on its stupid softness.
She studied the mattress with half a mind to demand its absence, or at least consider sleeping on the ground more often. She’d never do it, too addicted to the way it cradled bones long abused by the work she demanded of them, but it was a thought.
She turned and sat, falling sideways onto the pillow. Another comfort that she wouldn’t have said was important before now.
The pillow made an odd crinkling sound. She frowned. It had never done that before. She sat back up and stared down at it, noticing the edge of paper sticking out from under it. A note. It must have shifted when Shea had head-planted onto the pillow.
She picked it up, curious. Fallon hadn’t struck her as the type to leave messages. She felt a thrill of excitement. Perhaps she had just discovered a previously unknown side of him.
The discovery felt like a gift, much like the feeling after visiting a place where she knew few had ever walked before. Excited, awed, and just a little bit humbled—she felt an odd mishmash of feelings that put a tight feeling in her throat. She’d never felt such things for a person before. It was something to think about.
With eager hands, she unfolded the note, careful not to accidentally tear the paper in her excitement.
She smoothed it flat. Her excitement turned to confusion as she read the words. The letter fell to her side as she stared unseeing at the canvas walls, the words burned into her mind.
Come home.
Bring your friends.
A short message but a powerful one.
Shea didn’t have time to process, to decide on a course of action before Fallon was pushing through the partition. Shea wasn’t able to mask her unease before Fallon took note of her. He stopped at the sight of her, his big body going on alert as he examined the small space for potential threats.
“What is it?” Fallon asked, his eyes sharp and assessing as he noticed the slightly lost expression on Shea’s face.
Shea stared back at him blankly. What did she say? Should she say anything?
Fallon’s eyes dropped to the note in Shea’s hands, correctly concluding that the piece of paper was what had so unsettled her. “What is that?”
Fallon advanced on Shea, taking a seat beside her, his presence a coiled, wild thing. The potential for violence was in every line of his body. Not against Shea. She’d never once felt threatened by him, not even when she had considered him, if not the enemy, then a potential hostile force. This violence was directed at whatever had threatened her, and against it, he would have no mercy.
She stared at him, noting how his gaze went to the note in her hand. He didn’t reach for it, allowing her to decide.
She loved him for that. He could be such a dominant force, dictatorial, hard-headed, but when it counted—at least with her—he was patient. He recognized some things could not be forced. Even if you were a warlord used to getting your way.
How would things change once she revealed the note? Because they would.
There was no point hiding it. Nor would it have been right to do so, even if her first instinct was to pretend the note never existed. There was this dread in her, as if the note would signal a change so profound it would affect everything that had come before.
“I came in because I needed a moment to myself,” Shea said. The note had thrown her off balance. It took a minute to find her words. “I’m not used to so many people all the time. It can be difficult.”
Fallon’s eyes had an intense focus as he scanned her face. “This is why you’ve been ducking your guards.”
The statement surprised a laugh out of Shea. “I see Caden had a little chat with you.”
His touch on her shoulder was gentle, there and gone in one moment to the next. “Of course, he did. He knew I’d want to know.”
Of course, he had. Shea had known she wouldn’t have much chance of convincing Caden otherwise. The loyalty of Fallon’s Anateri would always be to him first and foremost.
“I hadn’t realized that you were slipping away to escape the press of humanity though.”
“Would it have made a difference?”
His expression was slightly lost as he looked at her—like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. There was an edge in his eyes, a heightened awareness.
“You know how I feel about your safety.” She looked away. Yes, she did. That was the problem. His sigh was heavy. “Perhaps we can find a compromise.”
It wasn’t a capitulation, but it was a start.
“I came in here because I wanted a moment.” She gave him the letter. “I found this. At first I thought it was from you.”
She didn’t say anything else, letting him read the words and draw his own conclusions.
Fallon read the note, his forehead furrowing. He read it once, twice, then a third time. His confusion transformed to understanding, and then into an incandescent rage—his expression filling with wrath, forming a visage terrifying enough that Shea could understand why villages surrendered immediately when he rode up to their front gates. His face was the stuff of nightmares, reminding people that there were monsters in the world. He was so darkly intimidating that Shea knew if he ever aimed such an expression her way that she’d surrender too. That, or run really far away to a place he could never find her.
“You’re not going,” he roared. He was on his feet and out of the room in the next moment.
Shea stared after him, surprised at the vehemence of his response. Concern in her eyes, Daere pushed aside the partition that had been partially ripped down and now sported a fist sized hole in the screen.
“What happened? Daere asked.
“A note was left for me.”
“What was in the note?”
“It was from my people. They asked me to come home.”
Daere gave a long whistle, the sound surprising from a woman Shea had always thought of as reserved and proper. “That would do it.”
Fallon burst out of his tent, roaring for Caden and Darius—the note, the wretched, loathsome note, clutched in his hand. The familiar need to tear and rend ate at him. With no enemy in sight, he forced the feelings down. When he was younger, he didn’t have such control, and with no outlet for his emotions, they would build up until he savaged any warrior in striking distance. Henry had helped him find ways to channel that bottomless anger, turning it into fuel for battle, and later conquest.
He could control it now, but this note and all it stood for tested that.
“Darius, Caden.”
He would wipe this interloper f
rom the face of this world—this person who had dared invade his home, who had threatened to take his Telroi. No. This would not stand. He would end this insignificant maggot in such an unpleasant way that Shea’s people would never chance sending another person to steal her from him again. There would be cautionary tales told about this individual after Fallon got done tearing him apart with his bare hands.
Caden and several of Fallon’s Anateri approached at a run, their hands on their swords as they scanned the area for threats.
“Fallon, what is it?” Caden’s expression was cautious. He was the only one to look at Fallon, the rest of the Anateri were busy focusing on any incoming threats.
Their efficiency helped to calm some of the turbulent rage Fallon felt.
“This,” his voice nearly a hiss, he thrust the note at Caden.
Caden took it as Fallon paced back and forth like a caged animal. The other guards were careful not to get too close, giving him the space to move as he needed. Wilhelm and Trenton waited by the entrance to Fallon’s tent. They’d come to attention when he burst out of it, but hadn’t moved from their guard positions.
The sight of them doing their job helped clear Fallon’s mind further, enough that he was no longer thinking about doing bodily harm to the guards who had let this interloper slip through his security to leave that note on Shea’s pillow.
What if she’d been there when this person invaded their space? What if he’d convinced Shea to follow him home? Fallon could feel that crouching rage begin to consume him again at the thought of losing her.
It took Caden seconds to read it. Like Fallon, he read it more than once. “I’m not sure I understand.” His words were cautious as he looked up at Fallon.
“They want her back. She found it on her pillow in our tent—someone came into our home and left this on her pillow. They trespassed on our private space.”
“Fallon.” Darius approached at a quick pace. “I got word that you wanted me.”
Witt, one of the Highlanders who had been part of the group caught with Shea, followed behind Darius. He looked curious and his face was filled with trepidation at facing an enraged warlord. The years had carved crow’s feet into the corners of his eyes, and his mouth was bracketed with deep grooves. He was a serious man, one who weighed every word twice before it left his mouth.
