Shea sat up, the sheets pooling in her lap. Her hair was a tangle of curls around her face. She ran one hand through them, pulling them back.
She squinted at the partition as she tried to figure out what she should do. Her mind had that cottony feeling that she got when she just woke up after not getting enough sleep and her mind didn’t feel like it was processing things fully yet.
It took everything in her to gaze dumbly at the other side of the room and not just collapse back onto the bed and go back to sleep. She was tempted, her body telling her it hadn’t quite had enough rest after the demands she’d put it under.
Her bladder, on the other hand, was saying that sleep would have to wait. She knew from experience that getting up now would mean returning to sleep once she’d taken care of business would be near impossible, especially with the briefing currently taking place in the next room.
That left her sitting on the bed in the semi-dark as she debated each option, torn between trying to sleep a little longer and giving into the inevitable and staying awake. In the end, her bladder decided for her.
She grumbled as she grabbed Fallon’s shirt from the carpeted ground by the bed. She tugged it over her head as she made her way by feel to the chamber pot located in a room attached to the bed chamber.
Her bladder appeased, Shea went to her trunk and pulled out a clean set of clothes. She’d long given up the battle of doing her own laundry, Fallon’s personal attendants making it clear in a non-vocal fashion that that was their job and they wouldn’t allow her to have it any other way. It had taken two weeks of them holding her clothes hostage except for a single set laid out each morning before she bowed to the inevitable and let them wash them every night. As long as they put them back in the trunk when they were done, Shea had decided to let them have their way.
Once dressed, she hesitated. She didn’t really want to deal with whatever was happening on the other side of the partition. Unfortunately, there was only one way out of their living space and it was through there. Shea had broached the idea of two entrances and was told no. It would be too difficult to secure both.
Unfortunately, that left her with the decision of whether it was worth interrupting or just waiting until everyone went away. It was a decision she wrestled with on a regular basis.
For her, some of it stemmed from the awkwardness of what to do when on the other side of the partition. Did she join Fallon and his advisors? Listen even as she felt more and more like an outsider? Or did she continue on to her affairs and hope her disinterest in their conversation didn’t offend?
Leading the Trateri was Fallon’s calling. Shea had no desire to lead anybody. Hell, she hadn’t even liked leading the groups she took into the wild country. It made the decision to stay or go during these little gatherings a particularly loathsome one. Which was why she was dithering in her bedroom, in what Fallon insisted was her home, while she had never felt like more of an outsider. A feeling that she hated.
No, she was done with this. She’d do what she felt was best, and if they didn’t like it, they could kiss her ass.
Shea batted the curtain aside and stepped through, her jaw set as she took in the scene at a glance. Fallon sat at the head of a long table, Darius to one side and Braden to his other. Eamon sat at the table as did Buck and Trenton. Some of the clan heads were in attendance, and there were a few other faces she didn’t recognize.
Daere looked at her with a questioning expression, one eyebrow rising as if in challenge.
Shea ignored her, not wanting to let the other woman distract her from her goal—escaping the tent without having to interact with anyone there.
Fallon gestured to her, “Shea, join us.”
For a moment, Shea debated the merits of refusing. She discarded that idea, tempting though it was. With Eamon, Buck and the others from the mission that ended with the mist present, Shea knew they wanted to tap into her knowledge to understand what they were facing.
Shea heaved an internal sigh and walked over to them. There was a brief reshuffling as room was made on Fallon’s left. Braden was forced to slide down so Shea could have his spot. She would have been just as happy on the end, but knew from one of the lessons with Daere that the position was considered one of honor, given to his most trusted advisors, or in this case, the Telroi. The only position above it was the spot to his right. As Fallon’s second in command, it was a position that Darius would always be entitled to.
Shea had no idea how she’d remembered all of that, given how much effort she made to ignore anything Daere had said.
Braden avoided looking at Shea as she took a seat. Fallon distracted her, as he poured her a cup of ale and fixed her a plate of food. The first time this had happened, Shea had nearly had a fit, assuming it meant that he was trying to control her. Another of Daere’s lessons had explained the logic behind his actions.
For the Trateri, fixing a plate for someone, especially a prospective mate, fulfilled two purposes. The first being to show that the fixer was able to provide their mate with a comfortable life full of food and plenty. The second was to show the esteem with which they held the other person. Preparing a plate was normally one of the attendant’s jobs. By preparing a plate for Shea, Fallon was saying without words what hold she had over him. Had Shea been present from the beginning, Fallon would have made sure her plate was prepared first.
Shea picked up a piece of flat bread and dipped it into a sauce before taking a bite. The flavors burst on her tongue—the bread warm with a savory and salty taste, the cool bite of the sauce tantalized and teased the senses. Shea knew from experience that it would be easy to mindlessly eat the bread and sauce until she was stuffed.
Knowing she needed to replenish vital nutrients and energy after her adventures, she forked up some of the meat next. It was seasoned to perfection, just enough to complement one of the wild birds they’d trapped but not to overwhelm the natural flavor of the meat.
Fallon waited until she stopped to take a sip of the ale before addressing her. “Eamon was about to share what happened after you left them to search for us.”
Shea took another sip and then sat back, turning her attention to Eamon.
He gave her a respectful nod, addressing both her and Fallon with his next words. “Your plan worked. The soul tree kept us anchored to this world. After the mist swallowed you, the shades, as you called them, spent several hours trying to tempt us away from its safety.”
“There was something else in the mist?” Braden sat forward in interest, his blue eyes pinning Eamon in place.