Shea looked up, noticing that Gawain and Ben both looked a little bruised and battered. The Anateri around them looked like they would relish eviscerating and stringing them up by their intestines.
Shea took that to mean these two were suspected of trying to murder Fallon—because it was murder. Fallon was unarmed, fresh from bed, and thinking he was meeting with allies. This wasn’t battle or honorable combat from a duel. This was cowardice, pure and simple.
That neither of them was dead meant the Anateri weren’t sure who was responsible. Their restraint was unexpected. Under most circumstances, they would have killed anyone suspected of such an act, that they hadn’t was probably because both men were in positions of power. It was a sign of clear thinking for which Shea knew she’d appreciate later. It would have been all too easy to get caught up in the agony of Fallon’s death and kill now and think about the consequences later.
“We don’t have time to figure out who is responsible for this,” Shea said before anyone else could speak. Her voice was diamond hard, her face poised and determined despite the grief and fear shredding her insides. “Take them both into custody until we can decide which one will face a coward’s reward.”
“She can’t order that. She hasn’t the power,” Ben said, the normally reserved Earth clan leader seeming almost in disarray as he looked between Braden and her.
Shea’s smile was cold. “You’re wrong. Fallon made me his battle queen last night. I have all the authority he would.” She turned her gaze on Caden. “Do it.”
His gaze was speculative as he watched her. Whatever he saw there seemed convincing because he made a sharp gesture to his men.
They moved to the two clan leaders. “You can’t do this,” Ben yelled. “My clan will never stand for such an insult.”
Gawain stirred from where he’d stood silent until now, the clan leader oddly subdued given his normal outspokenness. “Rain submits itself into the custody of the warlord’s Anateri.” He looked at Braden and Caden. “She is correct. Fallon confirmed her status.”
The words were oddly formal, as was the look on his face.
Shea knew his agreement meant something, but the shock of Fallon’s life hanging in the balance made thinking difficult.
Shea inclined her head at him, before turning a fierce look on Ben. “I don’t care what your clan might think of this. You resist and these men will treat it as an admission of guilt. I suggest you think carefully about your next actions.”
Ben’s hair stuck up in places. The clan leader looked bedraggled, nothing like the calm man she was used to.
“There will be consequences for this,” he threatened in a stiff voice.
“I don’t care,” Shea said, already turning her attention away from him. If Fallon died, Shea doubted she’d care about anything ever again.
The Anateri escorted the two clan leaders out.
Trenton reached over, touching Shea’s blood-covered hands where they pressed the shirt into Fallon.
“Let me help,” he said, his face gentle.
She jerked, staring up at him with a frozen expression, unwilling to relinquish her spot. A part of her believed if she stepped away, it would be an admission she was giving up on him, that she and she alone could tether him to this world. It was ridiculous, but still she resisted handing over the task to anyone else, even Trenton, a man who’d proven time and again his steadfast loyalty.
“Shea, you’re getting tired,” he said in that same gentle voice. There was understanding on his face.
Until he’d said something, she hadn’t noticed the quiver in her arms, a shakiness that was growing steadily worse. Even kneeling and putting all her weight behind her, it was taking its toll. People never realized how much strength was required to put pressure on a wound.
Logically, she knew Trenton’s request made sense.
She gave a small nod, edging backward as his hands slid over hers, taking her spot in a seamless transition.
Shea shifted over, giving him space. She moved until she crouched at Fallon’s head. She put her hands on his cheeks, ignoring the streaks of blood she left behind.
“You will not die,” she told him, infusing every ounce of her will into the words. “Do you hear me? You will not leave me to do this alone.”
Trenton and Shea stayed like that until a woman, her hair tangled and snarled around her face, her eyes still containing that sleepiness of someone who’d just been yanked from bed, stumbled into the tent, accompanied by Fallon’s Anateri.
“Battle Queen, I’ve brought the healer,” the man said, his eyes equally gentle.
Shea stiffened her spine and gestured the woman forward, concealing her flinch at her blood covered hands. She couldn’t afford to fall apart right now. She needed to be strong, even if inside she was a wreck.
The woman’s face showed horror when she got a look at a blood-stained Shea and the person she crouched over.
“You will keep him alive,” Shea ordered, her words firm.
