After the Badlands, they’d returned to Wayfarer’s Keep. Fallon had set up a semi-permanent camp in the valley, using it as a base to work from.
The move was designed to help all involved, give them time to heal from everything that had happened. The Trateri had lost many during the battle for the Keep, as had the pathfinders. The Trateri’s presence at their doorstep reassured the pathfinders they weren’t facing the threat alone, while providing a daily reminder of the promises they’d made.
In the meantime, Shea’s former people were slowly being incorporated into Fallon’s army. There was still resistance to the idea on both sides, but it waned more each day.
It wasn’t an easy process, nor painless, but it was going better than she had ever dared hope. For the first time, her people weren’t holding back.
Fallon had put their skills to use, having them guide his warriors to each Highland village. It was a process that would take months, if not years, as many of the villages were extremely isolated, but it was going well, so far.
To everyone’s surprise, conquering the Highlands was far easier than anyone had anticipated. There was very little opposition in the villages against joining under Fallon’s banner. Shea had been braced to have to talk more than one headman around, but instead they greeted Fallon’s army with visible relief.
The villages had noticed the rise in beasts and didn’t think they would survive on their own. Necessity meant Fallon and his army were welcome, especially after he promised that for every family with an immediate blood relative who joined his army—father, mother, son or daughter—they would be exempt from all tithes and enjoy the same rights as a full Trateri.
It was a move that had shocked his council. Not Shea, after she’d guessed his reasoning. Fallon had an eye to the future. Shea might have eliminated the current threat and weakened the dark at the Badlands’ heart, but it was a temporary respite.
The seal was broken. Mythologicals once again wandered the land. There was no going back to the past when beasts were the only things humans had to fear. Things were waking, old things that would seek to subjugate humans.
It was only a matter of time until someone or something once again emerged to threaten what they’d built. The time to prepare was now, before the first conflict was even on the horizon.
It was a move Shea agreed with.
There was hope, however. Humans would not be fighting this war alone. Covath had kept his promise of a temporary alliance. They watched the Trateri carefully but were present when they were needed most. The interaction between the two was tense at best, but Shea sensed Covath was beginning to warm up to the idea.
Covath’s people were new to this version of the Broken Lands, and he recognized the need to do things differently than they had in the past, or they’d all end up repeating its mistakes.
Shea sensed he wouldn’t be the last mythological to join them. Others were watching and waiting to see how this played out. Eventually, they would see that what Shea and Fallon were building was important.
Despite this new era of cooperation, things weren’t always easy. Somehow, despite all her protests, Shea ended up being the one everyone trusted—the one they came to when things went wrong. She alone had a foot in all three camps—former pathfinder turned Trateri battle queen and the woman who had freed Covath’s people from forced bondage.
It was a heavy responsibility and one she was still getting accustomed to, especially when she was called on to mediate disputes. Ironic, given she was the least diplomatic of them all. Still, she embraced the role, finding purpose in forcing everyone to work together.
Fallon waited at the door as she passed. “Had I known how time consuming all this would be, I would have knocked their heads together and thrown them out to make their own way.”
She stretched on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss. “No, you wouldn’t have.”
He sighed, then cupped her neck bringing her back for a longer, deeper kiss. Another knock came at the door.
“I should never have appointed him to your guard,” Fallon said through gritted teeth.
Shea grinned at him and slipped past, saying over her shoulder. “Don’t leave too many bruises on your warriors today during training.”
Trenton waited until she indicated she was ready before leading the way to the great hall. She trailed after her guard and friend.
He, more than anyone, understood her fears—better than Fallon in some ways. He continued to report for duty some days with dark circles under his eyes and a haunted, guarded look on his face. The same fear she saw in the mirror was often reflected in him. They had a shared understanding even as they both dealt with it solitarily.
“You alright?” Trenton murmured.
She nodded, her hand going to her belly. “For now.”
His gaze held understanding. “Today is a good day.”
“Yes, it is,” she agreed.
They reached the entrance to the hall. Her father waited, leaning against a wall as he chewed on a piece of grass. He gave her a lazy smile as she approached. “How is my grandbaby doing today?”
Shea put one hand on her stomach. “As well as can be expected. How is Clark?”
Her friend had taken her advice and entered the pathfinder’s training. It wasn’t easy on him, but she thought he was finally finding his feet.
