“You can’t come,” Shea stated in a flat voice.
“Is that right?”
She didn’t bother responding, letting her expression speak for her.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m still the warlord, am I not?” he asked in a soft, dangerous voice.
She took a step closer, her gaze locked on his as she said between gritted teeth, “And as warlord you have a duty to stay and protect them.”
“Braden is perfectly capable of leading in my absence. He’s done it before, and as my general he commands nearly as much respect as myself,” Fallon said.
Shea took a deep breath, counseling herself to patience as the urge to whack him upside the head tingled in her hand. He was willfully missing the point.
He leaned closer, his face softening. “I’m not letting you do this alone. Might as well get used to that thought.”
She held his gaze. The urge to continue the argument was there, but what she saw in his face told her it would be a waste of energy. He wasn’t going to be talked out of this.
Her shoulders slumped. Could she blame him? She wouldn’t have listened to reason either, if their positions had been reversed.
Seeing he’d won, his arms came up and pulled her close as he spoke into her ear. “At least, whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”
Shea’s nod was reluctant as she leaned against his chest. She didn’t want to give in, for his sake if nothing else, but it felt like a weight had been lifted from her. The dread that had sat like a ball in the middle of her chest slightly lessened at the thought of him by her side. She still wasn’t happy about putting him or anybody else at risk, but he was right. This would be a cold, dark place if he wasn’t part of it. She couldn’t deny him the same.
“Fine, suit yourself. Just keep up,” she told him, her voice tight from emotion.
He snorted. “Please, the rest of you will be begging me to slow down.”
She gave him an arch look. “Want to bet?”
He gave her a wolfish look. “I do.”
She blanched, remembering the last time they’d made a bet. “Wait, no.”
“Too late, lover. You’ve already agreed. We’ll see who the victor is,” he said over his shoulder as he headed for the rest. “Winner picks the punishment.”
Shea shook her head in denial as she trailed after him. How did she always get herself into these messes?
Shea walked up as a Trateri was asking, “Does anybody know if there’s anything waiting in the mist?”
It was a legitimate question. Just because they couldn’t see any beasts didn’t mean they weren’t there. Shea would be extremely surprised if there wasn’t some unpleasant surprise waiting until they were far enough from the safety of the Keep to attack.
“You can count on there being something out there,” Shea said, coming up to stand beside Fallon.
He might be the warlord, but it was her mission. She’d run it.
“The good thing about the mist is it will hide us just like it’ll hide them,” Reece said, his arms crossed over her chest.
Shea nodded. That’s what she was counting on.
“Alright, let’s get going. I want every other person in line to be a pathfinder. Our quarry has a decent head start on us. We have a lot of ground to cover if we’re to have any hope of catching him,” she said, her expression hard as she met each person’s gaze.
To her relief, the only thing she saw there was a resolve that matched her own. These people had been briefed by their clan leaders or Reece about the importance of their mission. It looked like they’d agreed to set aside any differences they might have had in favor of tracking Griffin and the item he’d stolen.
That was good. She’d planned to bench anyone that gave her a hint of attitude.
Shea shouldered her pack and moved to the Keep’s gate. She fiddled with its straps as she waited for the rest of the group to do the same.
When they’d taken up their spots and it looked like everyone was ready, Shea turned and waved to the pathfinder and Trateri in the gatehouse.
