Fiona’s lips turned up in answer. Well, well, it seemed more had happened during that mission and its subsequent events than Shea had ever guessed.
“Thought you were interested in Reece,” Shea said.
Fiona shrugged, ignoring the question on the other’s faces. “The commander has won me over to his side.”
Eamon looked bashful, yet proud. Shea knew his cheeks would be red if it had been daylight.
“I’m glad,” she told the two. “You are some of the best people I know. You’re strong warriors and selfless friends. You deserve whatever makes you happy.”
Fiona gave Shea a small nod.
Eamon finished the explanation. “Fiona’s right. If his scouts hadn’t shown up, we would have been slaughtered. As it was, Phillip damn near lost his arm, and Ghost lost the sight in one eye. We were lucky.”
Buck nodded. “It was a close thing. I talked to some of the team who found you. They couldn’t believe how many beasts your group killed. You should have seen it, Shea. There were piles of bodies around them. We’re not the only ones the Trateri will be telling their children about.”
Eamon’s smile was easy. “My only regret is that we missed you in camp. I would have liked to have gone to the Badlands with you.”
Shea didn’t know about that. Privately, she was glad he’d missed their little adventure.
“Your actions—both of your actions,” Shea said, including Fiona in that, “probably saved everyone in the Keep.”
His nod was sad. For all that, they’d still lost people.
Buck slung his arm around Eamon, pulling him forward. “Come on. Enough sorrow. We’re alive for another day. Let’s celebrate.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Three months later
A gentle touch skated across Shea’s stomach, summoning her from a hazy dream. “How is my little warrior doing today?” Fallon whispered in her ear.
She stretched lazily and opened her eyes, the constant nausea that had plagued her mornings and evenings, missing for the moment.
“She’s being kind,” Shea said in a wry voice.
Fallon’s chuckle ruffled her hair as his arms tightened, pulling her to his chest, his hand returning to her stomach and rubbing soothing circles where their child rested.
Shea covered his hand with her own, giving him a sleepy smile.
“Do you know what you’re going to name him yet?” Fallon asked.
Shea shook her head. Trateri tradition held that the mother named the child. It was thought she had a better feeling for the child’s personality given the time she spent carrying them to term.
It had been a surprise to both of them when Shea found herself pregnant shortly after the trip to the Badlands. She couldn’t be sure if she’d conceived the night before her departure or in the weeks after their reunion, when making love to Fallon was the only way she felt truly part of this world.
In retrospect, it should have been expected. She’d missed several days with her herbs during all of the chaos, beginning with the multiple attacks on the Keep.
They’d hoped to wait a few years until Fallon’s rule was fully cemented and their alliances had been given a chance to settle.
Fate had other plans.
The weeks following her return had been a dark time for her, the numbness that followed Griffin’s death and her use of the Lux threatening to drag her down into an abyss. Fallon had helped anchor her, but it was Mist’s enthusiastic greeting at Shea’s return and her small arms around her neck that had fully brought her back to life.
She wasn’t whole, not entirely. There was still a piece inside her that felt barely mended, its cracks just beginning to scab over.
The confrontation at the heart had marked her, perhaps permanently. One day she might be grateful for those scars, since they meant she’d survived. If nothing else, they served as a reminder of how easy it was to stray from one’s path into chaos and madness.
“What has you so worried?” Fallon asked, his voice gentle.
