He gave her a soft smile and picked up her hand, setting it on the girl’s head. “Comfort her,” he mouthed.
Shea gave him a dark look but turned to the girl and made soothing sounds.
Tenderness wasn’t a feeling Fallon often sought, but for this woman and her awkward, yet heartfelt attempt at comforting a child, Fallon couldn’t seem to hold it back.
He looked up to see Darius watching them with a sardonic gaze. He lifted an eyebrow in question, the look enough to convey his thoughts.
“Oddly enough, your lostling played a significant role in our arrival,” Darius said, his gaze touching on Mist’s head.
Both Fallon and Shea looked up at him in question. Mist’s sobs quieted but she still clung to Shea as if she might disappear again.
Fallon didn’t see how the orphan could have influenced his general in such a way. Although Shea had taken the girl under her wing, adopting her and assuming responsibility for the former orphan, that didn’t mean the child had any real power. Last Fallon had heard, Mist had hardly been talking.
“Please, don’t keep us in suspense,” Fallon said.
Darius’s teeth flashed as he took a swig out of his goblet. “From what I know, she had a nightmare.”
Fallon gave his general an unamused look. His friend had never displayed a fondness for practical jokes, but perhaps Fallon’s time away had changed that.
Mist lifted her head and looked up at Shea, her gaze wise well beyond her years. “The bad man was following you and he was going to win.”
Shea went still at Fallon’s side, her body stiff and brittle, little emotion on her face.
“Yes, that’s the one,” Darius said with a sideways glance at the girl. “I would have chalked it up to a child’s fear for a parent, if not for the second dream.”
Shea’s gaze lifted to Darius’s, an intent look on her face.
He continued without having to be prodded. “In it, she predicted the arrival of a scout, sent by you and accompanied by one of these pathfinders.”
“Buck. He got through then,” Shea said, her voice relieved.
Darius’s nod was lazy as he swirled the liquid in his goblet. “Indeed, though from what I hear, it was a very close thing. Only three of those sent with him made it, including your pathfinder. I might have discounted the girl’s warning if your friend hadn’t added his own take on the situation. The man can be very persuasive.”
Shea couldn’t argue with that. She’d have to make a point of tracking Buck down later and thanking him. He’d gone above and beyond, and his actions had probably saved them.
Darius gave a shrug. “I figured I’d move our people up here on the off chance you needed us. If nothing else, we could wait out of sight until you sent word. We were just getting settled in when that flare shot up. I figured it couldn’t hurt to send some scouts for a little look-see. Imagine my surprise when I arrived to find a whole bloody army of beasts crouched at your doorstep.”
Fallon studied his friend, not quite willing to believe such an absurd series of events. Darius wasn’t prone to suspicion, nor was he the type to act without thinking through every possible scenario.
“Your foster daughter is a myein,” Darius said, before draining the goblet and pouring himself another.
Fallon frowned at the term, an old one that wasn’t much in use anymore. His people had once had many whose small, useful abilities came from some strange place. They had been part of the reason they’d survived in the Outlands and been such a dominant presence there. Over the long years, many of those called myein had died out. Of his people, he only knew of two who shared those traits. Chirron was the first, and the only one willing to put his ability to use. The other preferred isolation, remaining apart from their clan, a right Fallon respected.
Shea acted like she believed him, her face haunted as she pulled Mist away from her to stare into the child’s eyes. “You’re a dreamwalker.”
Fallon’s attention shot to Shea and he frowned. “Your people have a term for this?”
Shea didn’t answer immediately. When she did, her voice was reluctant. “Possibly.”
“What does that mean?” he asked, a frown directed at her.
She looked deep in thought as she considered something. “You know those dreams I’ve been having?”
Fallon went still, his entire focus locked on Shea. Of course, he remembered those dreams. Rarely a night had gone by since they’d reached the Highlands where she didn’t wake. He hadn’t mentioned this, but on more than one occasion he’d woken to her whimpering, the sound lost and lonely as it shredded his heart.
It killed him that he didn’t have the power to protect her from her dreams, but that was one place even he couldn’t reach.
She looked up at him. “They may not be dreams after all.”
