Gawain glared at the other man. It was a sore point to him, since the clans who remained behind would not share in the war spoils. Those who had followed Fallon had reaped the rewards in tithes and would continue to do so now that the Lowlands were all but conquered. It was why Rain and Ember were so vocal about invading the Highlands.
“I don’t see why we haven’t made our move on the Highlands,” Gawain said. “We’ve captured one of theirs. From what I’ve heard, they all but gave us an engraved invitation.”
Fallon’s body went still, and his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. Darius stiffened beside him.
“And where did you hear that?” Fallon’s voice was silky as he leaned forward, every muscle in his body tensed to pounce. This was the Warlord speaking, and every one of them knew it as they looked at him with guarded expressions.
Gawain’s face was tight, but he didn’t back down. “Are you saying it’s not true?”
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.”
