Gawain gave a small shrug, conceding Trenton’s point with a small smirk.
Shea ignored the banter. She did not get herself into situations. She saw a problem and fixed it. Not her fault that things often avalanched from there.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Shea entered a great hall, one that was often laughingly referred to as the throne room. She noted she wasn’t the only one to be called to this meeting. Her mother was there, seated and paler than normal, but her eyes were strong and alert, her expression poised and calm. Her father stood at her shoulder, a strong presence who glared at all the rest.
The clan leaders and General Braden were also present. Wilhelm stood at Fallon’s back and several Anateri were spaced throughout the room.
The interesting thing to note, was Fallon’s presence at the head of the room, as he sat in a throne-like chair with a high back and ornate detailing. It was the chair her mother normally resided in for formal functions. That she wasn’t now, spoke to a shift in power.
It seemed the battle had changed things on more than one front. Not only had Fallon assumed the mantle of authority—the tension in the room told her not everybody was happy about that fact—but there was a grim look on many faces, as if the people here now knew the monster in the woods was real and they doubted their ability to fend him off.
Shea didn’t feel any satisfaction at being proved right. They didn’t have the same excuses a village might. They spent time in the wild, walked its hidden paths every day. They had known something was drastically wrong. The land had practically screamed it. That they didn’t act on what the world told them was their own fault.
Shea crossed to Fallon’s side, not stopping to talk to any of those gathered. She took the seat next to him. His face was set in what she had long since dubbed his warlord’s mask as he watched the gathering with an impenetrable expression. He looked severe and remote, the type of man capable of severing a person’s head from their body as easily and with as little emotion as he might use to pick out what to wear for the day.
It was the face he wore when dealing with his council or recalcitrant villagers. That he wore it now, told Shea how seriously he was treating this situation.
As she took her seat, his hand slid over hers on the armrest and gave it a slight squeeze. She turned her hand over and laced her fingers through his, not looking at him as she gave his hand a squeeze back. She was happy he’d come through the battle in one piece too.
That was all the indication either gave of their relief. They stared at those gathered with stony faces, no hint of what either was thinking in their expression.
Shea relaxed into her seat, grateful for the support after the night she’d had. She was still tired, but there were many things to do before she could find her rest.
“You have been attacked in your own home,” Fallon stated, his voice calm despite the storm she sensed gathering in her warlord. “You would have died without our assistance.”
Some of the council elders nodded as if in agreement with Fallon. Not all though. Shea was disgusted to still see resistance on some faces.
“The same could be said of your people if not for us,” Gerald said, a disagreeable frown on his face.
Shea sensed the tension in Fallon even as his facade remained outwardly calm.
“I call bullshit on that. We would have been fine had we never visited this place,” Zeph said, disgust in his expression.
Shea kept the twitch of her lips concealed, tired amusement stealing through her. She much preferred his plain speaking to the veiled words of the pathfinders' elders.
“How do we know you’re not the ones who brought them down on us?” Charlotte argued.
Shea’s gaze sharpened on her. Charlotte was a longtime friend of Victoria—and her mother. It seemed her loyalty to Victoria outweighed any friendship she’d once had with Lainey. Shea’s mother gave the other woman a cool look but remained silent, her hands clasped in her lap.
Her mother met Shea’s gaze with a serene expression, sending her a sly wink before her face smoothed back into calm lines. Shea relaxed, some of the tension escaping her. If her mother wasn’t worried about what was going on, it meant she had a plan.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Charlotte,” Lainey said, her voice strong and firm, giving no hint to the close brush with death she’d had only two days earlier.
“Easy for you to say, Lainey,” Charlotte replied, the disrespect obvious in her tone. “Your daughter is the one who brought them here, and your family has the most to gain by an alliance with them.”
“My daughter didn’t bring them anywhere. If anything, you have her to thank for delaying their arrival. Isn’t that right, Warlord?” Lainey asked, flicking a glance at Fallon.
There was a hint of amusement in his eyes under that impenetrable mask. Shea realized with a start that he liked her mother. Respected her even.
“It is,” he rumbled.
“Either way, it doesn’t matter what came before. What matters is now,” Lainey said in a strong voice. “The mythologicals have returned. Beasts that have not been seen for centuries, once again roam this land. They’re led by one of our own. Griffin has touched the heart of the Badlands and come back changed. We don’t know what he wants or how he controls beasts, but we do know if we don’t stop him, the world we know will come to an end.”
“Again, something that can be laid at your daughter’s feet,” a male voice said from the crowd.
“Give over, Connor,” Shea said, fed up with them. “You can’t blame me for every little thing that goes wrong. There were never any hard rules about entering the Badlands. It was frowned on, yes, but not forbidden. We did what our families had taught us, relied on our skills and knowledge to explore the unknown. Or have you forgotten what you’re supposed to stand for and the vow you took?”
