Fallon took a deep breath and opened his hand. Reece fell, his chair wobbling before falling on its side. Reece coughed several times before craning his head to glare up at Fallon.
“I don’t know what she sees in you. You’re not her normal type at all.”
Fallon bared his teeth at the man on the ground and chuckled. It was the laugh of a dragon faced with someone so far beneath him that he couldn’t even be classified as a threat anymore. Reece would have to work harder if he wanted to get to Fallon. It didn’t matter if he was Shea’s type or not. She was his, and he was hers. The end. What came before was unimportant. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d been a monk before he’d met her.
Reece eyed him warily. “Didn’t work, huh? Perhaps you’re smarter than you look.”
Fallon reached down and set the chair and Reece upright. “Start talking. My patience for you is wearing thin. Once it’s gone, my men will kill you and put your body somewhere no one but the beasts will find it. We’ll tell Shea you went back home.”
“She’ll know. They’ll send others until they get what they want.”
Fallon cocked an eyebrow and shrugged. “By then, our bond will not be so easily broken.”
Reece sighed and tilted his head back to look up at the canvas. Fallon watched with interest. It was a trait Shea had demonstrated on more than one occasion—usually when she was frustrated or had to consider a problem. Perhaps it was a family trait. After a long minute, Reece tilted his head slightly and directed his eyes so he could see Fallon.
“The pathfinders want Shea to come home.”
“No.”
He sighed and kept going. “They want her to come home and bring you and your army with her.”
Hmm. That was interesting. And unexpected.
“Why?”
Reece shrugged. “They didn’t tell me that. I’m just a pawn—isn’t that what you said?”
Fallon grabbed a finger of the other man’s and twisted just far enough to put pressure on the joints but not enough to break it. “Why?”
“Because something’s wrong!”
Fallon released the finger and stepped back. “Wrong how?”
“You’ve seen it. The mist. The beast attacks, aggressive beyond anything we’ve seen in generations. We’ve lost four settlements over the past three months. Established settlements that shouldn’t have been destroyed so easily.”
“And what is it that they’re hoping Fallon will do for them?” Shea’s cool voice came from the tent’s entrance. She shot a look at Fallon before turning her attention back to Reece.
Caden sent a questioning look to Fallon, asking without words whether he wanted her removed. Fallon gave a slight shake of his head. No, he wanted to see what she’d do. Then he wanted to ask how she’d followed him.
“What do you think they want, Shea? They want his army. They want his help in beating back the beasts.”
“That doesn’t make sense, Reece. The guild never asks for help. Fallon and his army wouldn’t be content to deal with the beasts and then leave the Highlands to go their merry way. They’ll want payment. Why would the guild chance it?”
Reece sat back and shrugged. “Why don’t you ask them for yourself?”
Shea made an angry sound of frustration.
Fallon leaned forward grabbing Reece’s hand and bending it back at an unnatural angle. “We’re asking you.”
Reece glared into Fallon’s eyes for a long minute. Whatever he saw there made him blanch and look away.
“This isn’t like normal. When’s the last time the mist reached this far into the Lowlands?”
“Not for centuries,” Shea answered.
Witt looked interested in the conversation and stepped closer.
“Exactly. There’s something at work here. Something the guild can’t explain.”
“That’s a good excuse and all, but the guild has never bothered itself to care about the villages of the Highlands before unless their tithe went missing. What’s the real reason?” Witt asked.
“That’s not true,” Reece said. “They care. They’re just limited in what they can do.”
Witt’s snort made it clear what he thought of that response.
“They’ve faced this before,” Shea said. “Why risk it?”
Reece’s sigh was angry. “Because of you. Because of what you did. You woke something when you went into the Badlands, and now everything has been placed in jeopardy. This is your fault and it’s your job to fix it.”
Shea stared at him, her face paling in shock. “That’s not true.” She shook her head and took a step back. “That’s not possible. We barely made it past the first demarcation. There’s no way we caused this.”
Reece’s shrug was tired. “I don’t know what to tell you. Everything I’ve seen or been told says the problem originated in the Badlands and it’s just getting worst. If you don’t want another cataclysm on your hands, you’ll do what you can to help. Go home, Shea. Bring your friends, because you’re certainly going to need them.”
Shea had a stunned and broken expression on her face. The fight had run out of her.
“Keep him alive,” Fallon ordered Caden. “I’ll want to speak to him again.”
“Understood.”
Fallon took Shea by the arm and walked her out of the interrogation room. She didn’t say anything to protest, letting him lead her where he would. He noted with grim satisfaction that Trenton stood in a pool of shadows next to the tent and Wilhelm was a silent presence across the way. He’d have words for them later, but their severity would be mitigated by the fact that they’d remained with her.
The walk to their quarters was silent and seemed much longer than normal. Fallon was content with the silence, not wanting their words to be overheard by any of his men. He had questions and Shea was going to answer them for once. He’d let her get away with some of her non-answers regarding the Highlands and the pathfinders’ guild, understanding what it meant to be loyal. He liked that her loyalty wasn’t something so easily replaced, but his patience with it had just run out.
*
Shea’s mind whirled at the information Reece had given her, and the accusation that everything currently wrong could be laid at her feet. It was a ridiculous claim.
Wasn’t it?
Yes, it was. There was no way that expedition had managed to create this level of discordance. They’d never made it anywhere close to the Badland’s heart, most of them dying before they’d even gone a week.
Still, something was wrong. The mist, the increased attacks, the frostling Shea had run into previously. All pointed to something being amiss.
They swept into their quarters. Fallon released her arm and made a beeline for the carafe of wine that was always kept filled. He poured himself a chalice and drank it down before pouring himself another.
Shea was too consumed by her own thoughts to notice immediately how agitated he was.
“Fallon, we need to talk about this. I think Reece is right. I need to go. I need to go back to the Highlands.”
He slammed his cup down; she jumped as her widened eyes landed on him. He advanced on her, only stopping when she took a step back.
He eyed her with determination. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“You don’t understand.”