by T. A. White
Shea’s shoulders tried to reach her ears as she looked away. That was answer enough. A warm chuckle feathered through her hair. Shea rolled her eyes. Yes, laugh it up. In her defense, that man had wanted to take the warband right through a nest of gravers when she had specifically told him it was a bad idea. It wasn’t her fault that he’d gotten so upset at her words that he’d tried to prove her wrong and nearly ended up dead in the process.
They laughed about it now, but at the time Eamon had been furious over her insubordination. The only thing that had saved her tail, was that the man had been so shaken he had forgotten all about her insults. The nice thing was that he hadn’t questioned any of her advice for the rest of their journey.
She frowned. She could kind of see why they thought she was grumpy.
“She learned that from our master,” Reece said when he stopped laughing. “He was even worse. Everyone he met was an idiot, and he never failed to tell them as much.”
“Old Winchell,” Shea said with a fond smile. “He was an ornery old man, but he was the best pathfinder I’ve ever met. Taught us everything we knew.”
“Including how not to catch hoppers,” Reece added.
“Hoppers? What are those?”
“It’s this salamander-like creature that lives in some of the mountain streams. They like to lay their eggs in spring and then burrow deep in the mud to survive winter. They’re very tasty and their scales make fine jewelry.”
“But they’re tricky to catch,” Shea added. “Winchell said if we caught one, we could spend a month in one of the Highland villages sleeping in a real bed.”
“Did you catch one?” Buck asked.
“No, but not for lack of trying,” Reece said. “You see, they’re very hard to find. Shea and I spent an entire month just trying to catch sight of one. When we finally found them, Shea decides to cover herself with mud in hopes of making herself more appealing to the hoppers.”
“Did it work?”
Reece’s face broke out into a wide smile. “Oh yes. A little too well. You see it was mating season and they like to lay their eggs in mud banks. Since Shea had covered herself with the stuff, the hoppers swarmed her and began laying eggs. The thing about hoppers is that they secrete this sticky webbing that enables the eggs to stay stationary even when the streams flood.”
“How’d you get the eggs off?” Eamon asked Shea.
Her face turned bright red. She mumbled, “I didn’t.”
Reece barked out a laugh. “She ended up walking around with little eggs attached to her for almost a week because she couldn’t bear to kill all those babies.”
“I was just covering for you,” Shea returned. “You started sobbing when Winchell told you that you had to be the one to yank the eggs off, since you didn’t stop me from covering myself with the mud in the first place.”
“Sounds like an interesting person. He might have a few good pointers. I’d like to meet him one day,” Eamon said.
Reece and Shea’s faces sobered. Shea turned her eyes to her food.
“That’ll be difficult as he’s dead,” Reece said, looking into the fire and avoiding looking at Shea. His jaw flexed.
The rest of the group stared at each other across the fire.
Buck was the one to broach the silence. “How’d it happen?”
Reece stared across the fire at Shea. The shadows flickering across his face made it hard to decipher his thoughts.
After a long moment, he said, “He followed his apprentice into the Badlands and didn’t come out again.”
Shea’s hands clenched around her bowl of food. Her appetite was gone.
Eamon looked across the fire at Shea, his face sympathetic. He didn’t ask the question she knew was on everyone’s mind. For that she was grateful.
Fallon’s arm brushed hers. “You never talk about that place.”
Shea shifted but remained quiet.
“No, she doesn’t, does she?” Reece said with a humorless smile. “Even with those of us who deserve an answer.”
Shea hunkered down. She wanted to answer. She did, but somehow her words always got lost.
“I don’t even know why you went there. With him of all people. He wasn’t even one of us.”
Shea flinched, knowing exactly who he was talking about. “How can you say that? He grew up with us. He was just as much Winchell’s apprentice as we were.”
“He didn’t pass the test. He wasn’t a pathfinder, no matter what went on before.”
Shea scoffed. “One test doesn’t negate all the things he learned.”
“It does when it means he can’t navigate the mist,” Reece shot back. “I don’t know what you even saw in him. He was always weak, always using you to make himself look good, stealing credit that should have gone to one of us.”
“It doesn’t matter now, does it? He’s dead.” There was sadness in Shea’s voice at those words.
Reece’s mouth snapped shut, but he didn’t say the words that looked like they were begging to explode from him.
Fallon watched the two of them with a considering expression. “Who is he?”
Shea’s gaze shot to his, she looked stricken and slightly guilty.
Reece shook his head at her in disgust. “You haven’t told him?”
“You know I haven’t,” she snapped back. “That’s why you brought it up.”
She knew her cousin. This trip down memory lane had a purpose. He could pretend otherwise all he wanted, but this was exactly what he’d been hoping to discuss when he sat down. She only wished she had guessed sooner, so she could have found anywhere else to be.
Shea gave up glaring at her cousin and faced Fallon. She took a deep breath. Too late to hide this now. She only wished she’d had this talk with him sooner when there were less people about. “His name was Griffin. We three grew up together.”
“What she hasn’t said is he was also her first love. The man who led her into disaster and ruin and got her demoted to a rank and file pathfinder serving a village no one would touch,” Reece added.
Shea shot her cousin another dirty look, wanting to strangle him when he returned her glare with a smirk and a shrug.
Fallon’s face was thoughtful as he studied her. His silence pulled other revelations from her.
“He couldn’t pass the final test. He couldn’t navigate the mists. It devastated him. When you fail the tests, you’re sent away from the keep. It doesn’t matter if you grew up there or if your entire family lives there. They don’t allow those who fail the test to remain.”
There was a low whistle from Buck. “That’s pretty harsh.”
Reece shrugged. “It’s our way and has been for generations. There have been problems in the past. The rejected are given the choice of settling in one of the villages nearby or they can make their way further afield. Some choose to join the caravans and chance the wilds to travel from village to village. Griffin chose another path entirely.”
Shea took up the thread of the story. “He knew, like we all did, that the pathfinders had never led a successful expedition into the Badlands. He thought that if he could find one of the ancient cities and come back with something big that the guild might make an exception for him.”
“Translation, he convinced Shea to do all the hard work so he could reap all of the rewards.”
“I’m not the only one he convinced,” Shea said in a soft voice.
Reece shrugged one shoulder. “You’re right about that. You’re the one they trusted though. Thirty men and women went in; one came out. Winchell followed Shea because she was always his favorite and because he felt responsible for Griffin. It’s not often a child of the keep fails the test. He took it as a failure on his own part. I’m sure Griffin helped form that outlook.”
He had. It was something that Shea didn’t like thinking about. Speaking ill of the dead didn’t sit right with her. They were unable to defend themselves.
“I thought it was your idea to go into the Badlands,” Fallon sa
id with a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Might as well have. He never would have gone there if not for me. You know the rest,” Shea told Fallon. She’d told him the ending of this story. “We lost several people before we were even a week into the Badlands. After the eagles attacked, the group lost morale and broke apart. Eventually I was the only one left.”
“Which was why she took the entirety of the blame for Griffin’s stupidity,” Reece said. “It didn’t help that none of you bothered to get permission for your little excursion before you left. Shea was demoted to Birdon Leaf, who sent her to the Lowlands, and here we are.”
The group was silent for a long moment after that. Shea found she was unable to meet anyone’s eyes. She stood. “I’m going to go check on something.”
She moved off without waiting for a response.
Fallon watched the shadows swallow Shea. He looked across the fire as her cousin watched her leave with an expression that was both combative and defeated at the same time. Fallon had to wonder what the man had hoped to get out of that little exchange.
“I’m the one who went searching for her when her party disappeared. Three weeks I looked, and all the while, the hope of finding her alive got smaller and smaller each day.” Reece looked across the fire at Fallon. The emotion had drained out of his face, leaving him looking tired. “When I found her, she was delirious. You could count the number of ribs; her skin was sunken, and her bones stuck out like sticks. She hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink for days. I thought she was going to die.”
“But she didn’t. Because of you,” Fallon said.
Reece ran a hand through his hair. His sigh was heavy. “No, she didn’t, but for a long time it felt like she had. You called her grumpy,” he said to Buck. “She wasn’t always like that. Once upon a time she was sunny and enthusiastic, always believing the best of anybody and any situation. She was still acerbic, her tongue could leave a man bleeding, but it was rare for her to let loose. And curious. So damn curious. She used to drive her parents crazy, always disappearing into the wilds to study whatever beast was nearby. He changed that.”
Fallon stood, collecting his bowl and Shea’s mostly untouched one.
“I’ve seen more of the old Shea with you than I have in a long time.”
Fallon didn’t react as he carried the bowls back to the cooks and their apprentices.
He tracked Shea to the rise overlooking the city. He didn’t know if she realized it, but she always headed to a high place when she needed to think. He thought observing the scene below gave her some measure of calm, but he’d never asked.
She was right where he thought she’d be, staring angrily down at the abandoned city, though there was little to see with the low light the fires behind them provided.
“I was stupid,” she said without looking at him.
He stopped, not finding himself surprised that she knew he was here. She always seemed to know. Sneaking up on her was rare.
“About what?”
“I knew he was using me. I knew he didn’t care as long as it meant he’d be a pathfinder in the end.”
Fallon joined her on the ridge. He made a ‘hmm’ sound.
Shea sighed. “I was fine with it. I figured once he was a pathfinder, he’d finally settle down and finally see me.”
“I’m glad he’s dead. It saves me the trouble of killing him,” Fallon said.
The laugh that escaped Shea seemed to surprise her. She dropped her head and shook it. “Me too. What does that say about me? That I’m glad the person I thought I loved is dead?”
“It says you’re smart, and that you know I’m infinitely better than some boy unable to pass a simple test.”
“It’s actually pretty hard.”
Fallon waved a hand and made a disgruntled noise. He didn’t care. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. You were just a little slow figuring it out.”
Shea looked over at him. He didn’t have to see her face to know that it was full of skepticism.
“This from the man whose army kidnapped me, and then who threatened to hurt my friends if I tried to run away.”
Fallon grinned into the night. He loved it when she pushed back. It made him want to chase. To conquer.
He sidled closer, his larger form dwarfing hers. He laid his lips against her neck, then smiled against her skin at the breathless sound that escaped her. He feathered his lips along her jaw, breathing in that indelible scent that signified Shea. A scent that reminded him of the combination of wildflowers and the chill bite of mountain air.
“We can’t. There are too many people around.” Shea’s voice was filled with regret even as she tilted her head to give him better access.
Her modesty always surprised him, given how little privacy a nomadic life of expeditions offered. The knowledge that she’d preserved this part of herself was another piece of the puzzle that he never got tired of assembling.
“My men can keep the others away from us.”
“And what about them?”
He pulled back, cupping her face in his large palms. “I’m the Warlord. If I tell them not to listen, they won’t.”
Her snort of disbelief might have offended a more sensitive man. He found himself delighted, playful in a way that he had never had the chance to be.
“Fallon.”
Her resolve was weakening; he could sense it. He held himself still, a predator knowing when to wait out his prey. Pressure would make her choose the opposite—just because she could.
“We can be quiet.” His hand found its way under her shirt to rest against her waist, one thumb moving in a gentle caress against her skin. He’d missed the feel of her during this journey and he consoled himself with that single caress.
She sighed. That was all the permission he needed. He swept her into his arms finding a spot on the ground as his lips found hers. Together, they consumed each other—their passion burning through them with a fury fed by their abstinence over the last week. The knowledge they were surrounded by his men and could be interrupted at any moment lent urgency to their movements.
This time he didn’t have the patience for gentle, his hands rough, as they pulled her shirt over her head and bared her to the dim light. It was a shame he couldn’t see her better, only able to see the slight glow of her flesh. Her hands yanked and pulled, urging his tunic over his head.
He ripped her pants off, dropping his lower body between her legs and pressing hard against her, glorying in the pressure, the warmth between her thighs. He hissed as she sank her nails into his back, trying to bring him closer.
Her movements became frantic as he moved one hand between them, his fingers gliding through her folds to dip into her center for one pump, two, before withdrawing to circle that delicate bundle of nerves at the top of her sex.
Her hips tried to follow him as he withdrew, and he chuckled even as he pressed one palm on her belly to keep her still. She made a sound of protest, even as her legs rose and clutched at him, trying to force him back. Her slight frame belied her strength, one that was built over numerous mountains climbed and miles traveled.
Her movements were sinuous and full of power as she tried to take control and flip him onto his back in a move he knew one of his men must have taught her. It was only because of endless hours of practice countering that same move that he managed to quell her attempt at domination.
His chuckle was warm in her ear as he pinched her nipple between his fingers and gently pulled. It was her turn to hiss at the pleasure pain.
He kissed and nipped his way down her body, soothing the sting of his bites with gentle kisses. Reaching the spot at the apex of her thighs, he ran his nose down the side where the thigh joined with her torso and inhaled, glorying in the scent of her arousal. It was a sensitive spot. One he’d found quite by accident and had taken advantage of ever since.
Her gasp drove him on as he tempted and teased, her almost silent cries urging him as he licked and sucked. He thrust one f
inger into her channel then joined it with another, the strangled gasp she gave letting him know she liked it. Her thighs clenched around his ears even as he gave her no quarter, the muscles tensing and flexing as she tried to resist, to fight her climax as she always did. It was always a battle, one he took pleasure in winning.
Her inner muscles clenched and gripped at his fingers as she neared the point of no return. He was as hard as a rock, her soft gasps acting as an aphrodisiac.
Right as she was poised to hurdle over the cliff, he withdrew. He sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth, looking down at the beautiful mess in front of him. Her chest heaved and eyes he knew were spitting blue fire glared up at him. The fury was almost tangible in the air, feeding his own lust.
He placed his hands on either side of her and leaned forward. His cock hovered at her entrance. He couldn’t help it as it twitched, the randy bastard eager to dive into her warmth. He waited until her breathing had calmed, until she looked at him, until she had opened her mouth to blast him with her sharp tongue. He drove forward, slamming home in one thrust, rejoicing in the sharp cry of need that rose from her.
His control teetered, then fell when her knees rose to clutch at his sides. His rhythm picked up—his muscles tightening and his teeth clenching as he pounded into her.
Her cries rose around them. He snarled, “Mine.”
Her entire body tensed as her womb quivered and then her release was upon her. Her voice raised in a soft wail that he caught with his lips as she bucked against him. His release followed, and he pressed hard into her. He could never get close enough.
He collapsed against her, careful to keep most of his weight off her as they caught their breath. Of all the women he’d lain with, Shea was the one who made him lose control. Who inspired twin feelings of possession and tenderness. Sometimes he felt like he would be torn apart by the conflicting needs each feeling brought.
He pushed a lock of hair out of her face, his elbows and forearms framing her head. Bending, he pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth.
“So much for ordering them not to listen,” she said. “I think the whole camp couldn’t help but have heard that.”
