Fallon tapped his finger on his thigh, considering very carefully what tactic he wanted to take with this. Loyalty was a fickle thing. Doubly so when dealing with the clans. He had the backing of the soldiers and many in the lower castes. However, the clan heads and their betas were used to power. Some were with him because they wanted a reprieve from the infighting and thought consolidating the powerbase would keep them in their positions longer and prolong their life. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t turn on him at the first opportunity. How long could he hold the Trateri without their backing?
“I do not answer to you,” Fallon said. He looked at each clan head in turn. “To any of you. Your presence here is at my discretion. When I have news that I think pertains to you, I will share it. Until then, attend to your people. Rain and Ember—you are new to this camp, yet your people have caused many problems since arriving. I would be careful if I were you not to become too big of a nuisance. You would not want what happened to Snake clan to be repeated.”
More than one person looked away from Fallon. News of what he’d done to that clan had become a cautionary tale. Their leader had sought to assassinate Fallon and had even come close a time or two. When he’d caught up with her, he’d returned the favor and then executed her and all of her advisors. The rest of the clan, he’d disbanded. Some became outcasts, forced to the edges of their society where they still struggled to eke out a living.
Fallon stood, his point made. He might need the council’s good will but he wouldn’t be controlled by it.
“Henry, since the tournament was your idea, I’ll leave the planning to you,” Fallon said. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of a tournament, of a chance to pit the skills of his men against each other. He might even find time to join in on the events.
*
“Shea, Shea,” Clark’s voice called over the crowd. Shea looked up to find his curly hair bobbing up and down as he jumped and waved to her. He was shorter than most of the men surrounding him and disappeared as soon as he landed, only to pop back up again.
“He’s certainly an energetic guy,” Trenton observed with a wry voice next to her. He’d relieved Wilhelm at the midday meal.
They’d stopped at one of the cooks’ campfires to pick up something to eat before the afternoon classes that Shea was teaching on the mist. Daere was supposed to join them shortly, as was fast becoming her habit.
Shea ignored his comment and focused on Clark’s arrival. The younger boy looked excited as he finally made it to them.
“Did you two hear? There’s going to be an all-clan tournament in three days.”
Trenton whistled. “We haven’t had one of those since we began this campaign.”
“What’s an all-clan tournament?” Shea asked.
“It’s a series of contests designed to test the different skills of a warrior,” Trenton explained.
“But anybody can compete. Even an Outclan can compete. The only requirement is that you are Trateri. Some compete to gain recognition. A lot of the mentors will pick an apprentice based on how they do in the different skill sets.”
“So, the throwaways can’t compete,” Shea said. Figured. For all Fallon’s speeches on how he wanted to unite the Broken Lands, it was still very much the Trateri against everyone else.
Clark’s brow furrowed as he frowned. “We haven’t had an all-clan since we took on the throwaways. I wonder if they’ll modify the rules so they can take part.”
“They probably wouldn’t acquit themselves well even if they competed,” Trenton said. His gaze was fastened on Shea as if he was expecting a rise out of her.
Shea lifted an eyebrow. Nice try, but she wasn’t that easy.
Clark ignored Trenton. “That’s not even the best part. Every division gets to come up with three events. Eamon’s asked us to put together an event.”
Shea stared at him with a blank expression. That’s it? She didn’t get why he was so excited by this.
He rolled his eyes at her lack of enthusiasm. “Do you know what an honor this is? The event planners are nearly as famous as those who win the events. This is our chance to put the beast class on the map for the other divisions. If we plan something that they remember, they might consider implementing our model in their own divisions.”
“Hm.” Shea still didn’t get it since it sounded like a pain in the ass to her, but she was happy for him anyway. “Sounds like you and Charles have a lot of work to do.”
“Not just us; you’re part of the team too. We couldn’t do this without you.” He put a hand out. “Unless you wanted to compete. In which case, you couldn’t take part in the planning. That might work even better. This way you can prove you’re the best.”
Shea’s eyes widened and she was shaking her head before he’d even finished. “No, I don’t think so. I’ll help you plan, but competing isn’t really my thing.”
“I’m going to tell Charles the good news. He’s going to be stunned.” Clark didn’t wait for their goodbyes, hustling off in search of his friend.
Shea turned back to her food, noting with a frown that Trenton was resting his chin on his hand and grinning at her. He fluttered his eyes at her when he noticed her attention.
“Not even a Trateri a full year and you already have followers.”
“Clark’s my friend.”
He made a hmm sound that failed to denote agreement.
“What?”
“I see through you. For someone who likes to pretend they’re an outsider, you sure have a lot of friends in your corner. Not everybody gets asked to design an event. The Trateri take their tournaments very seriously. It’s one of the few activities we can gather for without intentionally shedding blood but still compete for the honor of our clans.”
Shea took a bite of her food.
“And this is something Fallon didn’t give you either. You got it all on your own merit,” he observed.
Shea looked at him in question.
“If you were wondering, that is.”
She hadn’t been, but she was now. Just how much of her life was Fallon responsible for? Was he the reason Clark and Charles were so interested in having her help with the Beast Board? And despite Trenton’s assertion, was he the reason they were getting this chance?
She took a slow bite of her food. It was something to think about.
*
Shea walked towards the tent she shared with Fallon with a slight limp, looking forward to washing off the thin coating of grime she was carrying around. One of the classes had startled a pair of wylde pigs, the slightly smaller cousin of the trihorn boar; Shea had played decoy while they brought the pigs down. Unfortunately, not before one had rammed her leg, leaving a nice sized bruise.
Trenton had not been happy when he found out. He may have even cast aspersions on Shea’s intelligence and muttered about hard-headed women who didn’t know their limits, before he stalked off after leaving her in front of her tent.
One little bruise and he was acting like a child. He’d left worse injuries on her during some of their training sessions.
Shea gave the two guards a resigned nod, not registering their surprise at her acknowledgement. Wilhelm and Trenton hadn’t been the only two to suffer from her withdrawal. The rest of the Anateri had been treated to the same remoteness.
She limped inside the tent and drew up short, noticing that Fallon and several men were seated around the table discussing plans. They quieted at the sight of her, and she found herself the center of attention.