“You’re an orphan then.”
Shea’s mouth dropped open and her head spun as she aimed a glare Braden’s way. How did he even guess that from what Clark offered? And what kind of person said that on a first meeting?
“Orphans are named for the closest landmark. On occasion the clan is kind and lets them claim the clan’s name as their own,” Daere said softly at Shea’s side.
Clark’s face was stiff and guarded as he gave a wary nod.
“You are the one responsible for this board I hear so much about?”
His nod this time was less hesitant.
“Show me.”
*
The beast class had assembled in a small clearing right next to the horses’ paddock. Wooden seats made of stumps and logs had been set up facing in one direction. Charles, a slight man in loose clothing, stood in front of the gathered warriors talking animatedly.
Shea was surprised to see how many had gathered. Instead of the small group she had imagined, every seat was taken, and still others leaned against trees or stood in the back. Those with seats took notes as Charles gestured to a board that had been set up next to him. Several men nodded at what he was sharing, their expressions focused and intent.
Clark said, “I’ll ask some of the men to move so you can sit.”
“No, we’ll watch from back here,” Braden said.
Shea agreed. They’d learn more if they remained unnoticed.
“How long has this been going on?” Shea asked in a quiet voice.
“A few weeks now.” Clark’s voice was hushed. “They take turns standing up and speaking. We’ve even started noticing scouts from other divisions attending.”
“Bet that causes problems,” Trenton said.
Shea cocked her head, not understanding why it would.
Seeing the question on her face, he supplied, “The divisions are largely manned by the different clans.”
She still didn’t get it.
“Every clan hates every other clan,” Wilhelm explained. “It’s about the only thing you can always count on. Just because Fallon has united them in name doesn’t mean that there aren’t still blood feuds between them.”
“There’s a lot of history, spanning generations. It’ll take time to truly unite them,” Daere said.
Shea knew that. Eamon and the others had told her at some point, but she didn’t know if she had fully realized what that meant. To most of the Lowlands, the Trateri were all painted with the same brush.
“It would help matters if the bloodlines mixed,” Braden observed, not taking his eyes off the front. “If the Hawkvale had ties of blood to some of the other clans, they would be much less likely to fight him on some of his policies.”
Shea sucked in a breath, the comment unexpected. She blinked rapidly, grateful that he wasn’t looking at her so she could compose her expression. The shock. It had never occurred to her to think Fallon’s position would be more stable if he had taken a proper Trateri woman as his telroi—and it should have.
She took another breath and let it go slowly.
Before she could think of a response, Daere stepped into the awkward silence. “Such a move could also result in further instability, as one clan is elevated above the rest.”
“He could just have children with a woman from every clan. Of course, you’d face the same problem when it came time for one of those children to take up the mantle of leadership.” The response was out of Shea’s mouth before she could stop it.
The only acknowledgement from Braden of her sarcasm was a slight turn of his head toward her. Daere smothered a smile and lowered her eyes to the ground.
Shea fought to keep still, not wanting Braden to know how such talk of Fallon and other women had disturbed her.
Trenton stepped into the silence. “Until then, there are flare-ups when they come into contact with one another.”
