“Let someone else do it,” he said, in a tone she would term pleading, if used by anyone else. “It doesn’t have to be you.”
She gave a small laugh. “If I asked you to let one of your men lead the charge into a hopeless battle, would you do it?”
He closed his eyes and turned his face away.
She reached up and cupped his cheeks, turning his face back towards her as she said in a soft voice, “No, you wouldn’t. Because you are good and honorable and would never ask them to do something you wouldn’t do yourself. You’re the one that taught me it was possible to be part of something greater than myself. This is the same thing.”
He stared down at her for a long moment, a battle taking place in his face. The man versus the warlord. The warlord knew she was right, even if the man craved with everything he was to deny her, to lock her down so he could protect her from anything that meant her harm. Usually the two parts of him existed in harmony.
This was one of the rare instances where who he was fought with what he was. For all that Fallon was a conqueror, at the end of the day, he cared about the ones who served him. She’d seen him in the quiet moments in their tent, grieving the unavoidable losses. It’s what kept him human instead of turning into the bloodthirsty savage most of the Broken Lands believed him to be.
She pressed a kiss to his unresponsive lips, her forehead touching his for a brief moment before she stepped back, releasing him. She could feel his acceptance in that kiss, even if his eyes and heart were saying no.
She moved around him, her hand lingering on his arm until the last possible second, relishing their connection even if it was for only a brief moment. Until finally, her hand dropped and they were apart once again. She walked toward the arched doorway, her head held high and grief in her heart. Nothing she could say would ease the sting of what she was about to do.
Besides, her throat felt tight and achy, locking down on any words that she might have used to fill the void.
So instead, she said nothing. She couldn’t deceive herself or him about the odds of coming out the other side of this alive. The Badlands had almost claimed her life once. There was a very good chance this time it would finish what it had started.
She would have liked more time with him, to laugh and love and play. To experience life rather than just be a bystander. It would be so easy to use his embrace as a shelter against the world, to ignore the duty she’d sworn an oath to. It’d work for a time, but eventually all debts came due.
If it was just her, she might have tried, but Fallon and his people had done their jobs too well. She cared. She had friends among the Trateri and she knew if there had been more time, she would have made more. She wouldn’t stand by and let them face what was coming, not if she had a chance of stopping it.
After all, that’s what it meant to be a pathfinder. You stood and faced the dark when others ran. She may have lost her way and broken ranks with her people, but the oath she’d taken still meant something. It still held true. She’d do what she could to protect her people—pathfinders and Trateri.
*
Shea stared up at the Keep’s gate. This felt familiar. She’d been here many times before on other missions. Never had her stomach been so knotted, a large part of her wanting to remain behind.
It had a been a quiet journey up from the bowels of the Keep, each person deep in their own thoughts as they came to terms with what Lainey had revealed. Her mother had stuck close to Shea, not speaking, just lending the comfort of her presence.
Her father had dropped back to walk with Fallon. Shea thought she sensed a hint of a rift between him and her mother, but she might have been imagining things. Her only clue had been a look exchanged between the two of them that had contained a hint of the same fire and anger that sometimes categorized her and Fallon’s exchanges.
She hadn’t taken the time to find out, too invested in her own plans to deal with her parents’ issues. She’d had time to think during the short journey back up, and she’d come to a few decisions. The first being, she didn’t plan on the journey being a one-way trip. She was going to do everything in her power to make sure she came back alive. Providing for every scenario was one way to increase her odds of success.
The second decision was that for her and whoever accompanied her to survive, they would need the help of both Trateri and pathfinder. They had already proven during the attack that they were better together than apart. Each group had necessary skills that could affect the outcome.
Convincing them of that was going to be the hard part—or so she’d thought.
When she turned up at the gate, a small group had already assembled, made up in equal parts of Trateri and pathfinders.
Several of Eamon’s scouts had volunteered, as had Trenton, Wilhelm and a few other Trateri warriors who Shea knew by sight. There were six Trateri in all.
Reece stood in the center of the group, his face intent as he spoke. Four pathfinders in addition to Reece carried small packs on their back. Shea knew from her own pack they’d be filled with the bare minimum of supplies to survive. This was a quick mission. It wasn’t about comfort. They were to track down Griffin and retrieve the Lux.
At her arrival, Reece clasped the arm of the person he was talking to and headed over to her.
“Cousin,” he said in greeting.
Shea set her pack down, looked him over before glancing at the rest. “What’s this?”
Reece looked back at the small group. “We’re all going with you.”
Shea lifted an eyebrow. “All of you?”
“Yes.”
She studied him before looking at the rest. It was a bigger group than she’d perhaps like, and she was surprised Reece had volunteered to come.
