“No, you don’t,” he said, shaking his head.“You make statements and then act all butt hurt when people don’tdo what they’re told.”
Shea couldn’t help the sneer of disbeliefthat crossed her face. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, yes you really do,” Buck told her,riding up on her other side.
What was this? Pick on Shea day.
She kicked her horse wanting away from thetwo ganging up on her. It didn’t work. They simply followed.
“You’re good at what you do,” Eamoncontinued, as if she wasn’t actively trying to run away. “Bright,observant. But you never take the time to explain. You just make astatement and then expect everybody to fall in line.”
Shea couldn’t believe she was hearingthis.
“What am I supposed to do? Take the time totalk when people are walking into danger? They’ll be dead before Iget through the first explanation.”
“Trust takes time,” Eamon said.
Aaannnd, they were back to this.
“You can’t build a rapport overnight,” hecontinued, ignoring her small growl. “You want people to believeyou? Well, you’ve got to start small. Explain why something is theway it is rather than just telling them what to do.”
“Take the shadow beetles, for instance,” Buckpointed out helpfully.
“I was right about those,” Shea snapped.
“Yes, but no one believed you when you saidthere was danger up ahead. What’s the point in being right if youcan’t get anybody to listen?” Eamon said.
The point was that she was right, and theywere wrong. If they’d listened, everybody would still be alive.They didn’t, so they were dead. Not her problem. She’d done herjob.
Eamon, reading the look on her face, snorted.“It’s all very well to be right. I like being correct just as muchas the next person, but one day you might regret not being able toget your point across. Your inability to influence your fellowsoldiers might end up getting someone you care about killed.”
Wouldn’t be the first time.
Sensing that his words had struck a chord,Eamon said, “Think about it. You’re good at what you do, but you’dbe better if you could relate to your fellow scouts. No one cansurvive alone out here.”
Putting those words in her head, Buck andEamon peeled away from her and joined Clark up front.
Shea was left alone. Again. She was beginningto sense a theme.
She spent a good hour pissed at hiscriticism. He barely knew her but thought he could tell hereverything that she was doing was wrong.
Ok, so her inability to relate to others orbe remotely diplomatic wasn’t new. She’d had trouble fitting inwith Highlanders and just about everybody else her entire life. Atfirst it was because she was so young and had come from a verydifferent background than most villagers. The guild, in manyrespects, was much more open minded than those living in theoutlying communities. They were more accepting of a body’sdifferences. So few came for training anymore that anybody able topass the tests found a place to belong.
Perhaps that’s why it had been so shockingwhen Shea reached her first post and found her skills casuallydismissed by the male dominated society of the Highlands.
She could still remember the disaster of thatfirst mission. She’d lost three men on a routine trade run oversomething that could have been prevented if they’d simplylistened.
Could Eamon be right? Could she bear someresponsibility for the loss of life because of her inability tocommunicate?
Shea shook her head. Eamon was full of it.She’d given them her informed opinion. If they ignored it becauseshe was a woman and an outsider, there was nothing she could doabout that.
Shea kept as far from Eamon and the rest ofthe scouts for the rest of the morning. Anytime it looked likesomeone was about to engage her, she went out of her way to avoidthem. She was successful in her endeavors until they stopped forthe evening.
Once they’d stopped, Shea didn’t know what todo with herself. The men worked as a team and whenever she tried tohelp she just seemed to get in the way. She’d gotten used to theresponsibilities with Eamon and the others, but this was adifferent dynamic, and she didn’t automatically know herduties.
She drifted toward a group, containing Clark,playing a card game. She watched quietly for a while, trying topick up the rules. It was difficult. It seemed random to her,lacking any sort of logic. They each held a set of cards with odddrawings on them. Every now and then one would pick up a pair ofdice and roll them and then play a card.
“Would you like to play, Daisy?” a woman witha large scar bisecting her jawline asked. Her smile was cunning asshe glanced up at her before picking up the dice and rolling.
