Fallon’s council leveled gazes heavy with accusation on him. There was the feel in the air that Shea sometimes sensed right before a storm. The mood was about three breaths from violence.
Van’s eyes narrowed, and he looked about ready to issue a challenge, one that Fallon would be forced to fight. Normally, she would bet on Fallon any day of the week. She’d seen him fight. The man possessed an almost supernatural skill with the blade. But she knew he was tired and bruised, having fought with his men to bring down the eagles as well as participated in the tournament.
“He didn’t know about them,” Shea said, before any more accusations could be thrown. “I never told him.”
She’d probably just made her life a thousand times more difficult, but better that, than seeing Fallon’s people turn on him. Not when she could prevent it.
Shea found herself the center of attention once again.
“And why is that?” Braden asked, his forehead wrinkling with a frown.
Judging by the anger on some of the clan leader’s faces, Braden’s question was the more civilized version of what others wanted to say.
She met his stare with a calm expression. “My people do not give that information out lightly, for reasons I’m sure you can imagine.”
“How are we supposed to trust this woman when she continues to harbor secrets?” Van asked. The look he leveled on Shea made no secret of his distrust.
She forced herself to meet his gaze evenly. Not letting him intimidate her despite the tight feeling in her belly. Worse, was the thought that Fallon might be harboring some of those same thoughts. She couldn’t even fault him if that was the case. She did keep secrets—things that could drastically turn the tide for his people.
Sometimes she felt like a piece of meat caught between two ravenous wolf packs, tugged back and forth, until she threatened to rip right down the center.
“I agree with Lion Clan,” Gawain said, watching Shea with an avarice that didn’t suit the present discussion. “How do we know that anything discussed here will not reach our enemies ears?”
Fallon’s brows lowered into a dark scowl. “You question my honor.”
“Not your honor, just your choice of bedmates,” Gawain said.
“Gawain, you will respect your Warlord,” Henry’s voice was a whip of sound.
The skin at the corner of Gawain’s eyes tightened and his shoulders rose as he took a deep breath. “How can you defend him like this, Father?” Gawain asked, finally turning to address the leader of the Horse clan.
Shea fought to keep her surprise off her face at the revelation that Gawain and Henry were related. She glanced between the two. They looked nothing alike. Gawain was easily a foot taller than Henry and the bones in his face were much finer, giving him an almost delicate appearance.
“His Telroi has already admitted to withholding relevant information from our armies.” Gawain gestured at Shea.
“My armies,” Fallon corrected, his regard dagger-like in its sharpness.
Gawain paused in what he’d been about to say. Fallon waited until the rest had focused on him.
“Not your armies. Mine.” He looked at each clan leader in turn. “In case any of you have forgotten.”
The clan leaders dropped their eyes from the challenge in his, and an awkward silence descended. At least awkward to Shea, since she was the cause of the dispute.
Braden met Fallon’s gaze with a stubborn one of his own, while Darius had a thoughtful expression on his face. Shea suspected that any ground she might have won with Braden had disappeared with her admission that she’d withheld information regarding the Highland’s defenses.
She kept her sigh inside.
Fallon returned his gaze to Gawain, giving him his full regard. It was like watching two titans square off, prepared to do battle. Only, one of these titans held all of the weapons and was assured the win.
Gawain bared his teeth in a fake smile. “Of course, Warlord. I never dreamed otherwise.”
Fallon let it go, his body relaxing next to Shea’s. “As I said, I will take a small force into these Highlands and meet with these pathfinders to see if there are any weapons that we might use in this battle.”
“We could go back to our lands,” Ben said. “We’ve gained our spoils from the Lowlands. Our people have never lingered this long after conquering our enemy.”
There was a rustle as the others murmured varying degrees of agreement.
Fallon looked at Braden and bowed his head. The other stranger, the one they’d called Ember, shifted, his big body appearing discomfited for the first time.
Braden took a deep breath. “That’s not an option.”
“For more than one reason.” Fallon’s words didn’t invite questions.
Ember and Braden looked like they might say more, before settling back at a warning look from Fallon. Neither appeared happy.
“I’ll be taking an element from all of the clans. Darius will work with the division commanders to identify those who will follow me into the Highlands. The rest will stay here and maintain the progress we’ve already made.” He waited a beat as the rest of the clan leaders absorbed this information. “That is all. You are dismissed. Tend to your injured and comfort your people.”
The group dispersed. Shea was interested to note Gawain and Van leaving together, their heads close as they murmured together.
“That’s going to turn into a pain in the ass,” Darius said coming to stand next to her.
She made a sound of agreement before glancing up at the normally genial-looking man. Today, his face had grooves carved into his skin, his eyes tired with a hint of sorrow behind them.
They weren’t close—he was more Fallon’s friend than hers and had been responsible for essentially kidnapping her from her former life—but she couldn’t help the empathy she felt for him. She had friends here, but he’d grown up with these people. He probably had family and friends that were put in danger.
“Did you lose anyone?” Shea asked.
He nodded, grief leaking through his normal shields.
She hesitated before laying a hand on his shoulder. Words always felt so inadequate in situations like these. She remembered people voicing platitudes after her return from the Badlands. They brought little comfort and usually made her want to punch something.
Sometimes the only thing to do was offer silent commiseration.
After a long moment Darius said, “Eamon and his team are among my first choice to head into the Highlands.” His eyes were shrewd as Shea looked away. “Their time spent with you will serve them well, I think. They’re uniquely qualified to face the dangers of your homeland.”
Shea couldn’t argue with that. Of any in Fallon’s army, Eamon and Buck were the two who were most prepared for what lay above the fault. Their time spent with her meant they’d learned more than most about beast sign, not to mention the campfire stories she’d shared on occasion. Nothing that would have pointed to her origin, just stories meant to caution about what lay in the dark places of these lands.