She stood and walked to the bed, her steps slow and agonizing. Standing over him, her words deserted her. She should be able to express some of what was going on in her mind, tell him not to give up, tell him that she loved him and would be here when he woke up.
Instead, all she could think was that she’d prefer it was her. What a selfish thought that was, too. This was a pain she wouldn’t wish on anyone, and she knew had the roles been reversed and Fallon stood next to her bedside as she fought for life, he would have felt the same level of agony.
“I do love you,” she said in a choked voice. “And I want you to keep fighting. No matter what. I’m not sure if a happy ending is in store for us.”
Her voice cut off, emotion sealing her throat. She brushed a lock of hair away from his face.
“But I want that happy ending. I want it with everything that I am, and I’ll do anything to make it happen.” She looked away for a moment.
Her lips trembled as they formed a smile. “You would kick my ass or lock me up for what I’m about to do. It’s stupid, I know. Dangerous, and the chances of success are small. But I’m the only one who can do this, I know that, I can feel it.” She brushed the hair away from his face, her touch lingering. “You’re the one who made me the battle queen—a partner you called it—someone who doesn’t walk away or take the safest path just because it’s the easier one. You taught me that. You and Eamon, Buck, Charles and all the rest. Remember that when you wake.”
She pressed a kiss against his lips. “You will wake up. Please, please wake up. Give me something to return to.”
She straightened and dried her eyes. Her gaze lingered on Fallon’s face, memorizing it, committing it to her deepest memories so she might never forget.
Then she turned and strode over to a small chest that sat forgotten in the corner. She opened it and pulled out a pair of pants, a tan shirt and a green jacket.
Packing took moments. Her old supplies were all there, still in their pack. The only thing missing was food and water, easily picked up on her way out of camp.
In less time than it took her to dress, she stood at the foot of the bed. “I’m going now. I’ll see you when I return.”
Then she turned and walked out of the tent, not looking back, not pausing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Shea got as far as the edge of camp before the fog in her head cleared, the grief and rage created by Fallon’s near death and this relentless need to act lessening enough that she could think again. She stopped in her tracks and stared into the night, her shoulders bowed.
The threat Griffin presented needed to be dealt with. That was true. She was one of the few capable of doing what needed to be done. It didn’t mean she was the only one. There were others who could help. Racing off without letting anyone know where she was going or giving them a chance to weigh in was the height of stupidity.
“Telroi,” a hesitant voice said.
Shea was startled out of her thoughts and blinked in surprise as a woman sat up just a few feet to her right, her body previously hidden by the large form of a horse. Shea noted with some surprise that she’d paused near a corral of horses.
“What are you doing here?” the woman asked, standing up.
Shea thought she recognized that voice. She peered through the darkness, struggling to make out the woman’s features. Her face was shadowed, but Shea thought she made out a slight figure, a braid thrown over her shoulder.
It came to her suddenly, helped by the presence of the horse standing at the woman’s side like a very large guard dog. Her name was Eva, the throwaway who helped with the herds, the one whose bravery in protecting those herds had impressed Fiona and Trenton.
“Can I help?” Eva asked in a hesitant voice after the long silence.
Shea’s laugh was sharp and full of grief. “If only you could.”
Eva came closer. “Try me. I’m more useful than I look.”
“I’ve no doubt of that,” Shea said, her voice suddenly tired. Weariness seemed to drag at her. She sighed and looked at the woman out of the corner of her eye. “There’s something I need to do, but it’s going to hurt the people closest to me.”
“Have you thought about just talking to them? I’m told that helps.” Eva’s voice was self-deprecating on that last sentence. She pushed the horse back when it nudged her side.
“They’ll try to stop me.”
Eva made a small hmph. “You’re the telroi. I don’t imagine there are many out there who could truly keep you from what you want to do.”
Shea tilted her head back and stared up at the stars. That was truer now than ever before.
It left her with a choice to make. The old Shea would have left without ever questioning the wisdom of her actions. She would have assumed people wouldn’t understand why she needed to do this, or worse, that they would have been dead weight, dragging her down.
She sighed. Old Shea would have been wrong. This wasn’t something she could do alone, nor, if she was being honest, did she want to.
