Mist's Edge (The Broken Lands #2)

Shea found herself against Fallon’s chest being carried back to their bedroom.

“This is familiar,” he murmured in her ear as he kicked the partition away, not being nearly as careful as she’d been.

“Yes, and not in a good way.”

“We sleep together.”

“Do we talk to each other too?” Her voice held an acerbic edge. She didn’t enjoy when he dictated how things would be.

“Tomorrow, Shea.”

“So, it doesn’t matter what I want?”

He set her on the bed and climbed in after her, dragging the covers over them. He didn’t answer. Shea took that as a no. Fine then, if that’s how he wanted to play this.

She wiggled out of his arms and turned her back on him. Pressed up against the edge of the bed, she held herself as stiffly as possible, attempting to exude anger through every line of her body. She might not have a choice about sleeping elsewhere but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to act like nothing was wrong.

His arm wrapped around her, and he attempted to slide her across the bed. She batted it off, before turning and pushing him away.

“No. Keep to your own side.”

She turned back to the edge, curling up until she was as far away from him as possible.

“Shea.”

“No, you wanted to talk tomorrow; we’ll talk tomorrow.”

This time it was his angry sigh that filled the air. The mattress moved as he turned onto his side to face away from her. The dark was filled with the things that went unsaid. Hurt feelings so thick that it felt like Shea would suffocate on them.

Despite it being her who had insisted on distance between them, Shea had never felt so alone. Her eyes stung as she stared at the shadowed canvas. It was a long time before she drifted back to sleep.

*

It was a slow progression to wakefulness for Shea. She woke to find herself curled into a ball with the undeniable feeling of being watched. Opening her eyes, she turned her head to find Fallon dressed and looking at her with an enigmatic gaze.

She closed her eyes and dropped her head back onto her pillow. For a brief moment, she was tempted to go back to sleep. It felt way too early for the confrontation she could feel brewing.

With a groan, she sat up and blinked at Fallon. A yawn cracked her face, the sleepless night leaving her slightly groggy.

She leaned back on one hand as she met Fallon’s gaze. His emotions were locked down tight.

“It’s morning,” he said.

“That it is. You going to tell me what had you acting so dickish last night?”

He raised one eyebrow at her crude language. She raised an eyebrow right back at him, challenging him to say something about it.

Wise man that he was, he moved on. “Why didn’t you tell me how dangerous it was for you to find me in the mist?”

Shea froze, all thoughts coming to a standstill. She stared at him, her eyes wide. Of all the things for him to ask her, he chose that. Why?

Her words were a long time coming. “You knew it was dangerous.”

“Did I?” There went the eyebrow again. His body was tightly controlled as he tapped one finger against his leg. “I don’t think I did.”

She bent her knees and wrapped her arms around them. The urge to get up and walk out, to escape this coming confrontation was strong. It would be so easy.

He straightened, the movement that of a tightly coiled beast preparing to pounce. “Because the way I hear it, what you did pretty much amounted to a suicide mission.”

Shea’s hands tightened on her thighs, the knuckles turning white for a brief moment. Witt. It had to be. He was the only other person among the Trateri who would have had any inkling of just how big a risk Shea had taken.

“What was I supposed to do, Fallon? Just leave you there?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what you should have done. For all you knew, we weren’t in its grip.”

She aimed a sharp look his way. “I knew. I could feel you slipping further and further away with every breath. Yes, it was dangerous, but it had to be done or you and your men would have never made it out.”

“You promised to stay safe,” he barked at her.

“I never did any such thing. This world is too dangerous to make such an asinine vow. I am a pathfinder; this is what I do.”

“You’re not. Not anymore.” Thunder was in his face. “You left that life behind. It would be really nice if you acted like it for once, instead of rushing straight for the most dangerous, sure to get you killed, situation in a hundred miles. How am I supposed to trust you after this?”

A tight feeling took root in Shea’s chest at those words. She looked away from him. “I’m well aware that path is closed to me. Thank you for pointing that out. That doesn’t mean you can relegate me to the rear with the gear and expect me to sit pretty somewhere while you or others are in danger. That’s not who I am, and you knew that before we started.” She put every ounce of her frustration and resolve into her eyes as she met his thunderous glare. “You don’t get to make this choice for me. You don’t get to berate me and make me feel ashamed for having the skill and gumption to pull your ass out of the fire. If you can’t accept this part of me Fallon, we won’t last long.”

There was a crack and then a crash as he kicked the chair he’d been sitting in. It flew back and clattered to the ground after it hit the tent wall with a loud thud.

There was movement in the other room and then Trenton came through the partition, sword in hand and his eyes scanning for a threat.

“Get out!” Fallon roared.

Trenton’s gaze went to Shea as if to check that she was in no danger before he gave Fallon a short bow and backed out of the room.

“Do you feel better now?” Shea’s voice was calm with a slightly sarcastic edge. She felt a tinge of pride that it showed none of her throat-gripping unease.

Fallon remained facing away from her. One hand went up to rub his face before going back to grip his neck. He stood like that for a long moment, his shoulders slightly bent and his head hanging down.

He looked so miserable that Shea almost softened. She stiffened her spine.

“Fallon, I don’t take stupid risks for the hell of it. The risk to go deeper into the mist was a calculated one. Yes, it was more dangerous than I originally let on, but you can’t expect me to sit back while you’re in danger and do nothing. That’s not who I am.”

He still didn’t turn. Shea sat there, the covers pooled in her lap and an ache in her chest.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Fallon said without looking at her.

Every fiber of Shea went cold. A beast gripped her by the throat—one fueled by heartache, pain and desperation.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, her voice eerily calm. A calm she in no way felt. There was a turbulence inside her that was just beginning to make itself felt. A turbulence that felt like it had the power to destroy her if she didn’t hold perfectly still.

His sigh was long and held an emotion she had never thought Fallon capable of. Hopelessness. Dejection. Defeat.

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