He nodded at Zeph and Caden. They stepped forward seizing Victoria and Gerald by the arms.
Allyn looked at the Trateri with alarm, turning to Shea, his face pleading. “This isn’t how things are done. You do this and any chance of future cooperation with the pathfinder’s guild is gone.”
Shea met his gaze with a grim purpose before turning her focus on the rest. “You misunderstand. You seem to think we care for your good opinion. We don’t. Any mercy we might have shown you ended when several of you decided to ambush my warlord with the intention of stabbing him in the back with his people’s own blade. The desire for your cooperation died when others tried to kill your own guildmaster this morning in her tower. When you tried to take my mother from me. We have no need for allies capable of such treacherous behavior.”
Silence filled the room as her words sunk in. Shea felt a cold satisfaction. Now they were comprehending the gravity of their situation.
Had she not been one of them once, Fallon would have rolled through this Keep slaughtering every last one. No mercy given. It was only Shea’s presence and goodwill that kept him from that course.
Both were expended now. The guild would either bow or die. She no longer cared which they chose.
She spun on her heel and walked away, leaving Fallon’s men to subdue Victoria and the rest.
Fallon said, “Question her and see what she knows.”
“Of course, Warlord,” Zeph responded.
That was the last she heard as she stalked out of the room, anger fueling her steps as she headed for the battlements.
She was halfway there when she realized Fallon had followed her, his hands clasped behind his back as he kept pace a few steps behind her.
She stopped and waited for him to catch up. Together they climbed the circular staircase leading to where his men and the pathfinders patrolled together.
“How badly did I screw everything up?” Shea asked, after a short period spent staring at the horizon, letting the calmness she felt staring out at the world soak into her.
She probably could have handled the confrontation below better. Possibly pulled Victoria aside as Allyn had suggested. It was definitely unwise to inform the rest she didn’t care if they lived and died.
“Not bad at all,” Fallon said. He’d settled behind her, his arms coming up on either side to rest against the railing, trapping her in his embrace but not letting any part of him touch her.
He set his chin on her head.
“I damaged any good relations we might have had with the pathfinders,” Shea said. She should regret it. Somehow, she didn’t.
She sensed more than felt his shrug. “You spoke true. Allies that we can’t trust at our back are useless. Their trespasses can’t be forgiven or forgotten. Besides, your father and cousin came out on our side. We’ll get what we need. Fuck the rest.”
Shea leaned her head back against him and stared up at the sky. The clouds weren’t the type to hold her attention long, just a low hanging gray mass that blocked out the sun.
“I miss our people,” she said in a soft voice.
She hadn’t thought she would. It wasn’t her way to miss those she left behind. Once she was on the road, her thoughts turned to what needed to be done. Nostalgia and homesickness were just a distraction.
But, right now, she missed the life they had built, including Mist, the little girl she had rescued. Even Daere, pain in the ass though she was.
He tugged at a lock of her hair, calling her attention to him. “I do too. We’ll be with them soon.”
Shea nodded and straightened, turning her attention back to the horizon.
*
Eamon touched his heels to his horse’s sides, prodding it to go faster. The rendezvous point with the rest of his team waited around the next ridge. They were overdue, delayed by what they’d found. He prayed the rest of the teams were already waiting there.
He chanced a look behind him, seeing the pale face of Phillip looking back at him as they rode as fast as their horses could carry them on the treacherous path.
Eamon’s horse, a piebald mare, sped around the last bend. It was with relief that he saw Fiona, Ghost, and Roscoe waiting in a little dip of the land, a natural indention that shielded them from prying eyes.
They flew into the small space. Eamon didn’t bother dismounting. There wasn’t time for such things. Not now.
“Mount up. There’s an army behind us. We need to warn the others,” he ordered. He didn’t wait to see if his orders were obeyed, flicking the reins to get his horse moving again.
