Whelan inclined his head. “Very good. Perhaps you have something of your mother in you after all.”
Shea straightened. “Why did she bring us here then?”
“She’s hoping to convince them before it’s too late. It’s not like it used to be,” he said. “Factions have formed. There is a rot at our core we can’t excise. We need your warlord. Your mother knows that. Convincing them of reality has just proved a bit more difficult than she’d anticipated.”
Shea considered. This news put their situation in a different light. Those maps and the scouting Eamon planned to do were more important than ever.
“We’ll take those maps now,” she told Whelan. “I want ones of the quality you would give a pathfinder expedition.”
The look in her eyes dared him to argue.
The fact that he’d shared all this meant he’d already made his decision about which side of the divide he was on. If the rate of lost villages was to be believed, something needed to be done to stem the tide or the entire Highlands would be lost, including Wayfarer’s Keep.
Once upon a time, that something would have been the pathfinders themselves and their allies in the other villages. That time had passed. They’d let themselves fade from power. None who were left would be able to withstand what was coming.
That’s where Fallon and his people came in. Trained and ready for war. More—itching for it.
“I’ll have them ready for you by tonight,” Whelan said, his lips twisted in a sly smile.
Shea turned towards the door.
His last words drifted out to her before it fully shut. “You’ve finally grown up, little bee. I’m looking forward to seeing the mark you put on the world. Don’t let us down.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was a few candlemarks before midnight and Shea was ready, anticipation making her restless.
Fallon stood next to her in their room. “Do you have everything you need?”
She nodded, touching the pack on her back.
His forehead was pinched with worry. He’d surprised her by not arguing with her plan, even when she said she’d be coming back through the mist alone.
She reached up, sliding her hand along his jaw in a caress. He reached up to touch her hand before dropping his forehead down to hers.
“Come back to me.” His words were a whisper along her skin.
She raised her head and looked into his eyes, giving him a cocky smile. “Always.”
She stepped back and pressed on the secret cache she’d spent half the afternoon looking for. There was a small rumble and then a section of the wall moved back.
“Keep the bed warm for me,” she said.
A sudden grin overtook his face, alleviating some of the concern. “What, you’re not worried I might develop a sudden attraction to the lovely pillow version of yourself? And here I was looking forward to a little jealousy on your part.”
Shea glanced at the mound of pillows they’d arranged to make it look like she was sleeping. That was the main reason Fallon was remaining behind rather than escorting her to the edge—to convince any potential spies that she was where she was supposed to be.
For this to work, they wanted Eamon and his team to have as much of a head start as possible before anybody discovered they were gone. It was safer for Shea’s role as well.
“Somehow, I’ll rein my jealousy in,” she said dryly.
She stuck her head in the passage and looked both ways. It was a calculated risk to take the hidden passage, and she’d only chanced it after much thought, figuring anybody watching it would have retired long before now.
Things could have gone differently. She could have opened it to find someone on the other side. What a disaster that would have been. Her luck was with her for once when the passageway remained empty.
“I’ll be going now,” she said softly.
He nodded, his face grave and his expression stark. This was a man who knew that he was sending the woman he loved into danger to protect the rest of his people. He wasn’t happy about it, but a conqueror used every resource at their disposal. He could do no less.
