None denied it. Fallon had taken a gamble. There was a definite resemblance between her and her daughter. It was there in the eyes, mostly. The distinct feeling that his telroi’s eyes were looking back at him, slightly older and more faded, but still hers. It was there in the lines of the face, a slightly softer version of Shea’s who had her father’s strong jaw and nose, but everything else was the same. The coloring was different, but for the most part this was what Shea might look like in a few decades.
“Very good, Warlord,” Shea’s mother said. “You’re incredibly astute.”
Caden shifted next to him, obviously preferring to be on his feet. Fallon wasn’t the only one tiring of the games. Several of the men seated with them radiated impatience.
The corner of Shea’s mom’s lips quirked up, a familiar expression he’d seen countless times on his telroi’s face. Usually when she was teasing him.
“I am Lainey Halloran, the pathfinders’ Guildmaster.” She ignored the stir her words caused, remaining focused on Fallon. “You are correct; Shea is my daughter. I believe you’re already acquainted with my husband, Patrick O’Shassey.”
Now, that was an interesting development. Fallon set his elbows on the table and folded his hands, watching the woman and Shea’s father out of the corner of his eye. What did they hope to gain by concealing Shea’s mother in such a way?
Zeph, the clan leader of Ember, turned his focus to where Shea sat, unmoving.
Shea took a deep breath and turned to the woman, her expression remote. “Hello, mother, it’s been a while. I hope you’re well.”
Lainey arched one eyebrow, her expression dissatisfied. “Yes, it has, hasn’t it? One must wonder why you never sent word to let us know that you still drew breath.”
Shea lifted an eyebrow right back, un-cowed by this woman. “And how should I have done that? I was hundreds of miles away. I couldn’t exactly drop a note to a carrier pigeon and send it winging your way.”
Lainey’s lips pursed, the reply obviously not finding favor with her.
“Ladies, this is perhaps a discussion for another time,” Shea’s father rumbled, giving both women a pointed look.
There was the slightest evidence of chagrin on Lainey’s face before she said, “Of course. Please, enjoy. I am ceremony master tonight so I’m afraid I won’t be able to join you.”
She dipped her head in a regal nod and swept away, leaving them to their dinner.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Shea stomped along the hallway cursing all pathfinders and their stubbornness, Trenton beside her.
She’d gone to the Keep’s gatherers, pathfinders tasked with finding and recording information about beasts and the world around them. They should have been the perfect people to hand over her notes from the last few months to. She’d thought her experience with the bashe and other mythologicals might help. At the very least it would give them a place to start as they updated the Keep’s logs.
Instead, she’d been given a placating smile and told her notes, while appreciated, would not be of much use given the rigorous methods they used to review such information. Then, the pathfinder had placed them in a drawer—one Shea knew for a fact was where they put things that never saw the light of day.
Wouldn’t hold up to their standards, her ass. She’d gone through the same training as them. Completed the same tests. They were just being idiots—stupid, elitist idiots intent on cutting off their noses to spite their faces.
That was fine. It really was. When one of theirs died because they didn’t have valuable intelligence, they would only have themselves to blame. Shea had done all she could to keep them informed. Swallowed her own pride in the name of working together.
Anger and hurt fueled her as she stalked along the halls, finding a staircase and heading up. She had no destination in mind, her only thought to keep moving so she didn’t return to the archives and strangle a few of the pathfinders there, especially the ones that had stared at her when she’d tried to turn in her notes and snickered when she’d been told politely that they weren’t needed.
She’d see how much snickering they did when she was kicking their ass.
Trenton paced by her side, his face no calmer than hers. Had he not been with her during the encounter, she might have said something more. As it was, she’d been forced to leave when it became clear her guard was just as insulted as she was. Since he knew many ways to kill a person, she’d thought it best to remove them both from the situation.
“How many stairs does this place have?” Trenton asked, looking up at another set she’d found.
She followed his gaze, realizing they’d taken many sets since she’d begun walking aimlessly. Her first instinct was usually to seek high ground, even in the Keep.
“You’re getting out of shape if these are challenging you,” Shea said, feeling a slight loosening of her anger for the first time.
He gave her an unamused look.
Her smile widened and she turned toward the stairs, starting up them at a much more normal pace.
“How much longer do you think we’ll be here?” Trenton asked.
Shea shook her head. She had no idea. It had been a week since their first dinner in the Keep, and so far, there had been no indication that the council was ready to meet.
