“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.”
“I understand that the first time your precious pathfinders beckon, you hearken to their call like a dog to their master.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? Shea, half the time, you act like you’d rather be anywhere but here. You’re always going on about becoming a scout again, but isn’t that just an excuse to hide, to pretend that you’re still one of them?”
