“I am an impatient man,” Fallon said. “And I was made certain promises for my attendance here. I’d like to see those promises fulfilled.”
There was a harsh silence in the chamber as the pathfinders contemplated his words. Fallon felt a thread of irritation.
“What is he talking about?” a man asked from the back.
Ah, so the alliance Patrick had proposed had not been discussed among the council. He’d suspected as much.
Thanks to the man’s words, he now had confirmation.
His people had a saying. ‘Beware those who come bearing gifts. They will always try to kill you.’
Lainey held up a hand, the gesture sharp and firm, her eyes fixed on Fallon. A thought moved behind her eyes as if she was mentally tallying a point under his name for a well-planned move.
Yes, he could see the resemblance between her and her daughter. Shea was perhaps less refined in her approach to things. She relied on emotion and an inner sense of right and wrong. Many people, he’d noticed, tended to underestimate her because of it, but she understood humans and the way they thought very well.
Same for this woman.
A slight touch of indulgence graced his face.
Sloppy of her not to make sure her people knew not to talk. These sorts of encounters worked best if you had a unified front.
“Your telroi has drawn us all into a very dire situation. We have found ourselves in a bit of a quandary.” Lainey clasped her hands in front of her.
“I am hard-pressed to hear how one average-sized woman who has not even been in the Highlands for the last year, could be responsible for any situation you find yourselves in,” Fallon said, scanning the pathfinders behind the guildmaster.
With their hoods up, their faces were cast in shadow. It was impossible to guess at their thoughts when you couldn’t see their expressions. Probably by design.
Fallon focused back on Lainey.
“As I’m sure you’ve been told, the traitor at your side strayed into territory that was forbidden to us. She’s the cause of what is happening now,” a woman’s strong voice said from the back.
The skin around Lainey’s eyes tightened, but her expression didn’t shift, her thoughts hidden as the speaker stepped forward. The speaker reached up and yanked back her hood to reveal a woman, older than Lainey, with a riot of curls and eyes that spat fire.
Shea turned so those above couldn’t see her mouth move, saying in a voice that reached only his ears. “Victoria Haversham. I had not realized she was on the council.”
“She seems to have it in for you,” he murmured back.
Shea made a soft snort. “She would. She’s Griffin’s mother. She blames me for his death.” Shea thought about it and tilted her head. “And for him failing at becoming a pathfinder.”
“That bitch at your side has caused more death and strife than any other pathfinder alive. She deserves to be put on trial and burned for her crimes,” Victoria said in a hard voice.
Fallon felt himself go still, the monster inside, the beast that thirsted for the blood of his enemies and longed to bay over their bodies, raised its head. Over the years, Fallon had gained skill at controlling his monster, directing its energy to better pursuits than mindless killing. Still, when someone close to him was threatened, his leash on it slipped. Right now the monster would be only too happy to slaughter every person in this chamber as penance for threatening his woman.
He forced himself to breathe instead, ignoring the itchy tingling in his dominant hand as if the skin itself seemed to call for the weight of his blade. Massacring the lot wouldn’t get him what he wanted.
Nor would Shea likely stand aside and let him do it.
Sometimes the facade of civilization weighed heavily on him.
“You didn’t tell me your people were such scared little children, content to hide behind their walls while praying for salvation,” Fallon rumbled, giving the woman a look of thinly veiled disgust.
“To be honest, it seems they are much faded since I’ve been away,” Shea responded, not taking her eyes off Victoria.
He sensed the anger pouring off his mate and felt approval. Good. Anger was good. It could sharpen the mind where other emotions might cloud it.
Victoria scoffed. “It’s not fear that keeps us out of the Badlands. It’s sanity.”
“I don’t care what it is,” Fallon spat, his patience snapping. “We’re done here. We won’t sit through your hysterical accusations.”
