A pinch landed on her side, and she jerked up, one hand going to the offended spot as she leveled a mocking glare on him.
“That’s for not warning me,” he told her.
“I did tell you it wasn’t what you thought,” she said.
“Your entire people are insane,” he grumbled.
She snorted. “That’s rich coming from you.”
He leveled a displeased look on her. “My people are perfectly normal. It’s everyone else that is irrational.”
She eyed him for a startled moment before she threw her head back and laughed. She supposed she could see how he thought that. Other cultures and peoples would invariably seem strange when you’ve spent your whole life immersed in your own.
He watched her, his lips twitching before he splashed her with water. She gaped at him and received another splash for her troubles.
“It’s on,” she said, splashing him in return.
*
A knock came at the door after Shea had finished mopping up most of the water.
They shared a look. Their interlude was at its end, the real world encroaching once again. It was pleasant while it lasted but now it was time to find their way forward in this mess.
She threw on her shirt and made sure she was at least semi-presentable as Fallon bade the person to enter.
The door swung open to reveal Braden and the clan leaders, Gawain, Zeph, and Van, as well as Caden and the healer Chirron. That wasn’t that surprising. It was Reece and her father bringing up the rear that really impressed upon her how things had changed.
“Have you told her yet?” Patrick asked Fallon, his eyes going immediately to the warlord at her side.
Fallon shook his head. “Not yet. I haven’t had the opportunity.”
Shea frowned at both men, not liking the way they were talking over her head, as if they were plotting something or trying to protect her. It made her instantly suspicious.
“Perhaps we should do this later,” her father said.
“Spit it out,” Shea said, interrupting them. “Whatever it is, it’s not going to get any better the longer you wait.”
For one of the few times in her life, her father looked unsure of himself. Tired and wane. It wasn’t like him, and she was filled with a sense of dread. Whatever they were sitting on was bad.
Patrick rubbed his chin with one hand and let out a heavy sigh. “It’s your mother. She was attacked.”
A roaring filled Shea’s ears as the entire world seemed to stop, the words so unnatural that it felt like the air around her had stilled, after sucking a harsh breath in and holding it. Or maybe that was her. She exhaled with a shaky gasp and inhaled, struggling to keep her face blank—emotionless, while inside she felt like she’d just received a wound that would never heal.
She and her mother had problems—that was an unavoidable fact. There was a lot of hurt and anger on both sides. Betrayal. Missed opportunities. But Lainey Halloran was still her mother. If she was dead, if she’d left this world for the next, Shea would never get to say the things that needed saying. She wouldn’t get the chance to give or receive the forgiveness they both so desperately needed.
She couldn’t bring herself to ask the next question. She was too afraid of the answer.
“She lives,” Chirron said, guessing her thoughts. The slim healer’s gaze was sympathetic. “But she was wounded.”
“How bad?” Shea found herself asking. The voice didn’t sound like hers. It was stilted and devoid of emotion.
“She has defensive wounds on both arms and one on her torso. She got lucky. Most of her wounds are superficial, and aside from some muscle damage and possible infection, she should pull through,” he said in a quiet voice.
Shea’s nod was distracted.
She locked down her emotions. Oh, they’d boil back up eventually and the fallout would be catastrophic, but for now she couldn’t afford to break down weeping. There were too many eyes watching and she couldn’t afford to show such weakness. Maybe later when she was alone.
She forced herself to look beyond the obvious, to turn her mind to analyzing the facts, even as she felt an arctic cold take root in her center.
