Shea stopped walking, knowing she was deep enough in the mist. She concentrated, ignoring the tug that said she needed to go back. That way led out of the mist. She wasn’t going anywhere until she found Fallon.
There. It was small, almost unnoticeable. She was half convinced it was her imagination, but there was something there. Some unexplainable feeling leading deeper into the haze.
It occurred to Shea it could be something else, a trap meant to lure her in. Her feet took her in that direction regardless. It was more than she had a moment ago. She’d come this far. Might as well see it through to the end.
She followed that feeling, a tiny spark under her skin. Wending her way deeper and deeper into the blanket of white that had descended on the world.
Sounds reached her, echoing from all directions. Voices that seemed familiar.
Shea stopped briefly. It could be shades trying to lure her deeper. She hadn’t heard them since she left the others, but they could have found her again.
She decided to take a chance.
“Fallon! Fallon, are you there?”
There was a breathless moment as Shea waited, her ears straining as she stared unseeing into the white, her heart thumping with a painful hope.
“Shea! We’re here.”
Her breath gushed out of her, her exhale sounding almost like a sob. Thank all the gods both past and present.
She followed that strange sense, trusting it to lead her to him. It was several long interminable minutes as Fallon and his men kept shouting, trying to give her something to follow. Their voices echoed oddly in the mist, but at least she knew they were out there.
She cut through the mist, almost running as the sound of their voices got louder. She knew better than to run here, but hope lent urgency to her movements.
Between one moment and the next, the mist thinned and she could see him, his whiskey eyes an intense blaze in a face too masculine to ever be considered beautiful. His features were too rigidly defined, a forceful blade concealing the charismatic personality inside. A small scar along his strong jaw gave testament to the type of life he’d led up to now—one of violence and danger. Shea knew that the skin of his hands would be rough against hers, a perfect counterpoint to the gentleness he used when touching her.
The glare he was giving the mist would have been enough to make his men drop whatever they were doing so they could give him anything he desired. It was an expression that dared the world to thwart him. The kind that signaled that he would decimate any who stood in his way.
Normal people would have fled in terror having that glare leveled on them. Shea felt an immense sense of relief at its sight. She would suffer a thousand glares just for the knowledge that he was still part of this world.
Her steps didn’t pause for a second as she ran to him. He opened his arms and grabbed her close, his hug a tight vise around her, threatening to crack her ribs. It was a welcome feeling, and she hugged him back with as much of her strength as she could muster.
They held each other for a long moment, his face buried in her hair and hers in the crook of his neck. She let herself luxuriate in the safety of his arms, the warmth and certainty that this man would fight the world itself for her. Even if that feeling was an illusion. There was no safety in the mist. Only loss and hopelessness.
His strength made her feel strong, made her doubts and uncertainty fall away. With him, it felt like this crazy plan of hers had an actual shot.
She drew back and looked up at him, his face holding a tenderness that only ever came out around her.
“How did you get here? How did you find us?” Fallon asked, his warlord mask not quite in place yet. There was relief in his eyes at the sight of her. Relief and happiness. Shea felt an answering warmth in her own expression.
“Eamon brought a company to meet you on the trail. I tagged along.”
He frowned. “Alone?”
She gave him a look that said ‘don’t start with me.’ “No, Daere and the Anateri guards you assigned insisted on coming with us.”
His eyes went to the white haze behind her. Finding no evidence of the guards, they returned to her, his thoughts evident in their whiskey depths.
She raised one eyebrow. Really? That was what he wanted to focus on in this situation. Giving her grief about leaving her guards behind?
A small smile tugged at the side of his mouth, a faint expression that would have been lost on any who hadn’t spent much time with him. Shea had heard others describe Fallon as hard to read, a stone-faced warrior that gave no indication of his thoughts before he struck. He wasn’t that way to the people who knew him.
“We can discuss your lack of protection later, when we’re safe,” he conceded.
She gave a small snort. Yeah, they were going to talk about it, but she didn’t think he was going to like what she had to say.
A wider smile touched his face as he read her expression. He seemed to find her anger by turns amusing and frustrating. For now, humor won out. She doubted that emotion would last.
“I’m glad you’re here.” His hands gave a light squeeze to her arms before dropping away.
“How are you here?” a gruff voice asked from behind Fallon.
Shea peered over Fallon’s shoulder at a slightly older man, who eyed her with a healthy dose of suspicion. He was blond, which was rare for the Trateri who tended to have dark hair and brown eyes. His face was striking, refined by age and stamped with authority. The set of his lips said he wasn’t terribly impressed by her either.
Shea could tell he was someone important, though she had no idea who. She was still learning the hierarchy in the Trateri ranks and was often at a loss as to a person’s status. She usually found out once she’d already put her foot in it.
Although Fallon had united the clans, the idea of one structure of power was a new one that was still taking hold. As a result, the Trateri followed a military power structure, but they also needed to follow the power structure in their clan as well. It made things complicated and gave Shea a headache even on the best of days.
She didn’t have the patience for it today.
“I had to leave Eamon and his men behind so I could move quick enough to find you,” Shea explained to Fallon. “I left them by a soul tree. Its roots are heavily anchored to the Broken Lands, so they should be fine as long as they don’t stray from its shelter.”
“What does that mean?” the other man asked.
Fallon’s eyes were considering as he looked at the mist swirling behind him. He was smart enough to know this was not a natural phenomenon, for which Shea was grateful. It meant she’d have little trouble of convincing him of what needed to be done.
“It means that you’re in the mist,” Shea finally told the other man. “Finding your way out is not going to be easy. Most who get lost here are never seen again.”