Shea looked back at him in question. She hadn’t realized his team were one of the few who’d picked up patrols again.
“Last night. There are some freaky, scary things out there right now.” Both men’s faces turned a little grim.
“Did you turn your report in already?”
“Hm.” Buck made a sound of affirmation. “Your annoying assistant is already going over it and making copies to be distributed among the command teams.”
“Good, I’ll want to review it with you tonight.”
“Perhaps after I’ve enjoyed myself a little.” Buck gave Eamon a roguish grin as his eye caught that of a Trateri woman with a heart-shaped face next to them.
Eamon waved his hand, letting Buck go. He wasted no time in pursuing the other woman, whose smile at the sight of him heading her way put the rest of them in no doubt how Buck’s night was going to end.
The contestants on the field had narrowed to half their original size. Several Trateri walked onto the field dragging large items.
“What are they doing?” Shea asked.
“They’re setting up obstacles. The second round is a little different than the first. They still have to unseat their opponent, but now they have to do it while dodging the items in their path.”
Yes, because it just wasn’t dangerous enough before. Crazy barbarians.
Charles pushed away from the fence. “We have to leave to get setup for our event.”
Clark protested. “Just a few more rounds.”
Charles looked hesitant, the pull of watching the Hawkvale compete just as much of a temptation as it was for his friend. His jaw firmed. “We need to make our final arrangements. The Wind Division commander showed his trust in our abilities. We can’t let him down now.”
Charles gave Eamon a nod of acknowledgement. Eamon pressed his lips together as if he was fighting to hide a grin.
Charles pulled Clark away, giving Shea and Eamon a determined look.
“I’ll catch up in a few minutes,” Shea told him as he left.
“If you must,” he told her, leaving before she could say anything in response.
“Grumpy,” Eamon said, looking after Charles and Clark. “He’s probably just stressed about things going well today.”
“It was nice of you to give them that opportunity,” Shea told Eamon.
He shrugged off her words. “It wasn’t me. I did offer their names as an option, but it was the elders who picked. What you all are doing is resonating with a lot of people.”
Shea was glad he hadn’t given them the opportunity just because of their previous relationship.
“You should watch this event until the end,” Eamon said. “You want to see who wins the bet, right?”
Shea’s jaw dropped and she hissed, “How do you know about that?”
Trenton straightened from his position next to them. “Everyone knows about that. It’s the talk of camp.”
Eamon chuckled as Shea’s face turned beet red. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll go easy on you when he wins.”
“You’re so sure he’ll win?” Shea asked with an arched eyebrow.
He shrugged. “Of course. He’s the Warlord.”
“And about ten years older than the rest of the competitors,” Shea said with a challenging expression. She should have known better. It was what had led to the ill-placed bet with Fallon.
“Not everything is about age,” Trenton said, waggling his eyebrows. “Sometimes experience wins the field.”
The crowd roared as Fallon unseated his opponent in a graceful movement at odds in such a big man.
Trenton leaned close. “I think he’s a little more motivated than usual.”
Shea blushed. Her color deepened when Fallon threw her a darkly significant look. Next time she would have to be more careful with her challenges. They always seemed to get her in trouble with this group.
*
Shea moved through the crowds as quickly as the press of bodies would allow. She vibrated with impatience, as she waited for an elderly woman accompanied by a child to move out of her way. She’d stayed later than she should have, watching Fallon compete. He’d won, to the surprise of no one but Shea.
The bet was lost. She owed him a boon. Shea could only imagine what he would request, the tricky warlord. To top it off, she was now late for the event she’d helped plan. The slow-moving crowd didn’t help matters.
A pair of grubby hands tugged at her pant legs. Shea looked down into a pair of bright blue eyes and a gap-toothed smile belonging to a sweet looking girl. One that was wearing a thin, threadbare shirt, and holding a bright yellow flower up to Shea.
“Is that for me, sweetheart?” Shea asked with a smile. It was hard not to be charmed by the little girl.
The urchin child nodded and offered it again.
Shea felt in her pockets, hoping for something to give the child, who looked no more than four or five. Shea hadn’t seen overt signs of poverty among the Trateri. The clans, for all the feuding and infighting they brought, looked after their own. If a child was orphaned, they were absorbed into the clan and provided for. Same when someone lost a partner. She knew of no instances where someone had been turned out, not to say that there weren’t any. This child looked like she hadn’t bathed in weeks, and her clothes looked like they were one strong wind from disintegrating.
“I have nothing to give you,” Shea admitted.
The girl’s face drooped in disappointment, the expression tugging at Shea’s heart. She looked at Trenton for help. Her guard avoided her eyes and scratched his neck. Shea frowned at him. Useless man. Always around when he wasn’t needed, and absolutely worthless when he was.
She looked back at the little girl and held up her wrist. “Do you like my bracelet?”
The girl looked at it and nodded.
“How ‘bout we trade then? My bracelet for the flower.”
The girl gave Shea a gap-toothed grin full of innocence and nodded.
“Shea, that bracelet is valuable,” Trenton said, his expression uneasy.
“All the more reason she should have it. Maybe it’ll bring her good fortune.” Shea pulled the bracelet off and handed it to the little girl. She thanked her when the little girl handed her the flower.
The little girl took the bracelet and petted it. She oohed and awed over it and ran her fingers along the graceful lines, before looking back up at Shea.
“Goodbye, thank you for my flower,” Shea said. She began walking away even as the little girl’s eyes tugged at her heart. She didn’t make it far before a small hand slid into hers and Shea looked down to find the little girl hurrying to keep pace with her little legs.
“No, no, sweetheart. You need to stay here where your mother and father can find you.”
The little girl looked up at Shea and cocked her head, not seeming to understand. Shea looked at Trenton again for help. He looked back at her and shrugged. No help there.
“Mist is alone in this world.” Gala shuffled toward Shea and Trenton, her arms clasped behind her back. “From what I understand, she has been mute since her parents died. There is no one for her to wait for.”