SHEA GAVE a full-bodied stretch once they’d stepped onto the last platform, hands above her head, back arched as she lengthened throughout her body. It felt sinfully good after the climb, her muscles stretching pleasantly to counterbalance the strain she’d put on them.
She felt Fallon at her back moments before his hand landed on her stomach. He leaned down, his breath tickling her ear. “What do you do to me?”
She tilted her head back to look at him questioning from upside down. “What do you mean?”
His gaze was searching and filled with dark things as he looked down at her. His eyes did strange things to her stomach as it dipped and flipped. She felt warm stirrings at the heat and intensity he was aiming her way. He sighed heavily, the erotic intensity in his gaze disappearing.
“Now’s not the time,” he murmured. He stepped around her, his hand sliding to her back and ushering her forward.
She blinked at him in confusion, not quite understanding what had just happened. That had come out of nowhere. It made her wish they were closer to their tent and bed, though she knew such a wish was selfish.
Eckbert stood at the head of his people as they waited for them on the other end of the rope bridge that marked the beginning of the village. They would have to cross that bridge one by one to greet the headman and those gathered.
Trenton and Wilhelm stayed at Shea’s side while Fallon debated with his two advisors who should go first. Darius and Caden were in favor of anyone but Fallon being the first across the bridge, pointing out the need for caution since the Airabel, while allies, were still not to be trusted.
“I am not a child in need of protection,” Fallon snapped. “I am perfectly capable of defending myself, having done it long before you formed the Anateri.”
That last comment was aimed at Caden.
“No one is questioning your prowess with a weapon, Fallon. These people are unknown. Let one of us go first to test our footing before you come in,” Darius said, frustration in his voice. “There’s no need to take unnecessary risks.”
“I’ve already met with the headman. If they’d wanted to kill us, they could have done so yesterday morning when there were fewer of us. Sending in a guard first makes us look weak—like we fear them when we don’t. I cannot afford to look weak before them or anyone else.”
Darius looked at Caden for confirmation on the first statement. Caden hesitated before giving a quick nod. A storm began gathering on Darius’s face. “What were you doing up here with so few guards last night? Because I know damn well that Caden and the rest were down below getting some rest.”
Fallon’s jaw ticked as he met Darius’s glare with a fierce one of his own. Shea stood very still not wanting to draw Darius’s wrath. She hadn’t taken into consideration Fallon’s position or the potential danger to him when she’d dragged him up here last night.
Darius didn’t need anyone to confirm who was at fault, his gaze swinging to take in the uncomfortable expression on her face. He swore and shook his head. “You’re going to get him killed.”
“Enough,” Fallon snapped. “I’ve lasted this long without a problem. We were in little danger last night.”
“That was before, Fallon,” Darius snapped back, not cowed by Fallon’s anger. “Before you went and united the clans and pissed off a lot of people. By the gods, Caden tells me you’ve had three assassination attempts in the last week.”
Shea jolted forward. What was this? “What are you talking about?”
Darius’s attention swung to Shea—for a brief moment he looked like a bull about to charge. “Maybe you should have considered that before you dragged him out of the protection of the camp.”
“What are you talking about? What assassination attempts? I thought those were done.”
“Enough, we’re not talking about this anymore.” Fallon’s voice was a cold snap of winter.
“Fallon!” Shea protested.
“No, enough.” He gave her a fierce warning glare, one strong enough to freeze the words on her tongue. His gaze moved slightly to the side. She snapped her mouth close. Van and Chirron watched the proceedings with a fascination that made her feel dirty, like she’d done something wrong.
She gave Fallon a nod, saying she understood. The warning look she gave him said that this would be one more thing they talked about later.
“Caden should go first,” Shea blurted.
Caden and Darius looked at her in surprise.
“He’s the captain of your Anateri. It makes sense that he would proceed you. They’ll see it as an honor, not as an insult,” she said in belated explanation.
Fallon didn’t look happy as he watched her. Her eyes went everywhere but his as she waited for a rebuke or to have her suggestion overridden. If he pushed her suggestion aside, he’d be undercutting her in front of potential enemies and hinder any progress she’d made. The expression on his face said he knew it too and wasn’t happy about it.
He jerked his chin down once in a nod that still managed to be an order.
Caden gave her a considering glance before he took off, tilting his head down in an almost bow before he strode across the rope bridge. It swayed under his feet.
Fallon waited beside her in a thunderous silence as they watched Caden greet the headman. It was only a few moments before he gave the signal for Fallon and the rest of them to approach.
Fallon went first. Then it was Shea’s and her guards’ turn. She took a deep breath before following Fallon’s broad back. She looked past him to where Caden and the villagers waited, decked out in their best finery, much as the Trateri were. The generals followed her, then the clan heads, and Daere. Witt and the rest of the guards brought up the rear.
Eckbert stepped forward and gestured, several women breaking from the crowd to step forward with necklaces of brightly colored flowers.
“Welcome, friends. Welcome,” Eckbert said giving them a wide grin.
Shea ducked her head and accepted the flower necklace with a smile, murmuring a thank-you to the young girl who’d placed it around her neck.
“What’s this?” Chirron asked, picking up the braided flowers and examining them closely.
“It’s tradition for the village to greet their guests with the mbel. It’s a sign of their esteem.”
“I wonder if these have any medicinal properties,” he muttered, rubbing a petal between his thumb and forefinger.
Shea’s mouth opened and then closed. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask one of the villagers. They’re familiar with the flora around here and could tell you more about its properties.” She thought a moment then volunteered, “I do know that the bark of the soul tree when brewed at a high temperature can calm a cough.”
She had personal experience with that treatment having had to sit through a few cups after she’d contracted a particularly nasty cough while visiting the area previously.
Chirron’s eyes brightened as he looked at the tree trunk. “I wonder what temperature the water needs to be to achieve the best results, or if the treatment could be replicated in a paste.”
Shea shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. I’m sure Eckbert will be more than happy to introduce you to their healer.”
“I’d greatly appreciate that,” Chirron said. The expression he bestowed on her was full of eager anticipation.
“Careful, Chirron. Your tendency to lose yourself in inconsequential things has begun to show again,” Van said, clapping the other man on the shoulder.
Unlike the rest of them, he was not wearing one of the mbel. Shea looked back at the girl who had been the one to approach him. She was staring at the ground as several other women gathered around her and talked in hushed voices while shooting quick glances in Van’s direction.
“A new method to treat a cough or fever is never inconsequential, Lion.” The earlier anticipation in Chirron’s gaze had disappeared, leaving him with a calm expression that bordered on serene patience.
“I’ll be honest; I’m more interested in what kind of warriors they can contribute to our armies. You can treat as many coughs as you like; it’ll never win us the war.” Van’s gaze was assessing as he took in those who had gathered to welcome them to Airabel. “Though from the sight of this lot, I’m willing to bet the pickings will be slim.”
Chirron’s eyes narrowed just slightly, but he didn’t react in any other manner.
“I imagine a treatment for the fever one gets from an infected battle wound would be worth its weight in gold, if it had the ability to restore soldiers to the ranks, when otherwise they’d be consigned to the grave,” Shea said before she could stop herself. Once the words were out, she was committed, and she met his gaze with an impassive one of her own.
Daere turned her body so she was half facing away, saying so only Shea could hear. “Well said. Now don’t push him any further. You’re not the one who will pay the price for his anger.” Daere’s eyes slid to the girl being led away by the other women.
Shea dipped her chin just slightly to show Daere she understood.
Van studied her, his face thoughtful as he pulled at one lip. “That is a fair point, but ultimately irrelevant. You have to win the battle before you have the luxury of treating your wounds. Only after you have been victorious, can the healers treat those unlucky or unskilled enough to be caught by their enemies’ blade. Without the first, you cannot have the second.”
Shea bit her tongue on the response she wanted to give him. His argument was flawed and shortsighted. Yes, winning the battle to then be able to treat your wounded was necessary, but how would you win the next battle or the battle after that if half your force was fighting off infection from non-mortal wounds. Eventually you’d run out of men with which to fight and you would lose.
Not to mention, luck had as much to do with surviving a battle as skill.
Chirron met her eyes from next to Van and shook his head once. Shea almost thought she’d imagined the movement because in the same motion he turned to speak to Braden who observed Shea and Van with a watchful expression on his face.
“General, have you been able to figure out the answer to the question I asked you earlier?”
The question came out of nowhere for more than Shea it seemed, because Braden blinked at the smaller man for a moment before responding, “I’m afraid I don’t have a working theory for how the tree supports the weight of its trunk and branches without collapsing.”
“It’s largely hollow,” a regal looking woman said, stepping up next to the headman. Ilyra had black hair threaded through with white that was pulled back from her face in an elegant knot. She wore the brightly colored garments of the other villagers. “Most of the soul trees are. I believe it allows them to grow to their immense height without being crushed under their own weight.”
“Fascinating,” Chirron said. He did look fascinated. “I would love to discover more about these amazing trees you call home.”
She inclined her head. “I would be happy to share all I know over dinner.” To Fallon and the rest, she said, “If you’ll follow us, we will lead you to the feast.”
“Lead on, lady. My Telroi tells me your feasts are the stuff of dreams,” Fallon said.
Amusement dawned on her face. “High praise indeed from a pathfinder who has traveled most of the known world.”
“It’s only the truth, Ilyra,” Shea said, stepping up to Fallon’s side. “I’ve visited many villages and can honestly say that none of their people have quite the same touch as your cooks.”
“Then it would be a travesty to keep you and your guests from our feast any longer. If you’d follow me.”
Ilyra spun on her heel, her bare feet padding over the well-worn bark of a tree branch that could host three Trateri sleep tents set right beside one another. The path she chose followed the branch back to the trunk, the ground sloping down more and more the closer they got to the center of the tree.
She led the group to one of the village celebration spaces, a large chamber carved into the base of the trunk. The chamber had grown as the trunk aged and showed at a glance just how old Airabel was. The ceiling arched high above them in elegant whirls that followed the grain of wood. The villagers had carved sculptures into the knots, providing columns of intricate artwork as high as the eye could see.
“Your home is breathtaking,” Daere said, her voice hushed with wonder.
Shea glanced at the woman beside her, realizing this was probably the first time she’d been in the trunk. Shea had been part of the negotiations when Fallon first made contact simply because she had a history with these people and wanted to make sure they didn’t end up destroyed because of a simple miscommunication or an overinflated sense of pride.
“I’ve been many places but have never seen anything quite like it,” Shea said, looking around while trying to see it through Daere’s eyes. “Most humans attempt to force nature to flow around them. The Airabel have found a way to exist in harmony—coaxing it here and there into a certain form, but for the most part, existing parallel with it.”
Daere touched one of the carvings just above their head. “They must have lived here for centuries.”
“Longer, I’d imagine,” Chirron said, coming to stand behind them with his hands clasped behind his back. “It’s probably close to a thousand years or more. Though a lack of carvings in some of the spaces higher up speak to the idea that they may have abandoned this home for a length of time before resettling it.”
“I would say you’re correct,” Shea said. “These trees grow painfully slow. It would have taken many years to create this space. My guess is that this is one of the oldest settlements in the Broken Lands. There are only a few to my knowledge that would rival it in terms of history.”
“Oh?” Braden stopped near them. “I would be interested in hearing about these other ancient cities.”
Shea gave him a tight smile. “Perhaps another time.”
“I look forward to it.”
She bet he did.
Fallon came up to her and touched the small of her back. “Are you enjoying baiting my generals?”
“Of course. They are so easy to bait.”
His chuckle was warm against her ear. “He will find a time and place to interrogate you regarding those other cities. Of my generals, Braden takes the saying ‘you can never have too much information’ the most seriously.”
“Not Darius?” The other general had always struck her as more of an information gatherer. The sort to keep one ear to the ground and an eye on everything around him.
Fallon’s eyes were thoughtful. “He also subscribes to that theory but perhaps doesn’t take it to such extremes as Braden. Darius excels at recognizing the best uses for a person’s abilities and then leveraging them to their maximum capability. He’s my strong right hand. Braden, on the other hand, is more like a spider sitting in the middle of his web and spinning intricate plots layered one on top of the other. I often think of him as my strategist.”
Fallon would be the brain and the heart. The one person among all of them capable of inspiring the Trateri to follow him and the person with the big picture.
Shea looked at the two generals with a thoughtful frown. The two men were comfortable in each other’s presence. The slightest smile was present on Braden’s face, something Shea suspected was rare for him. Darius always looked like a man who thought the entire world was a game set up for his private amusement. He was the sort who didn’t take things too seriously. With Braden, he looked more at ease, and the two shared a rapport similar to what she had with Eamon and Buck.
“Darius is the one who thought you might make a good Anateri if given enough time,” Fallon volunteered.
Shea’s head spun so she could give him gape at him. “That was a terrible idea.”
“Was it?” Fallon raised an eyebrow. “I’d thought about making your alter ego Shane a general at one point before I knew who you were. Darius’s idea was better. Many of my Anateri are picked not just for their skill with a blade but for other skills as well. Braden, for instance, was among my Anateri before he claimed the rank of general. Others have gone on to have high offices in my military.”
“You never told me that.”
He shrugged. “Once I found out who you were, it didn’t matter. You could not be Anateri and my Telroi at the same time. We have rules against such things. A relationship of that sort would border on an abuse of power not to mention limit your effectiveness at your job.”
“So, you decided for me?”
The corner of his lips quirked. “If you recall, you did not want to be Anateri in the first place.”
Her mouth dropped. “How was I supposed to know what all that meant? All I knew was that you’d taken me from the scouts without even asking my permission.”
“Every man or woman in my army serves at the needs of the army. Not the other way around.”
Her lips firmed, and she narrowed her eyes at him. She couldn’t argue with that, though she wanted to. Badly. It was the same with the pathfinders. You had some discretion, but at the end of the day it was the organization’s needs as a whole that took precedent. It’s the only way it could be. The sticking point was she’d only been an imposter at that point, a Trateri in name only and part of his army only as it suited her.
“And if I wanted to go back? To become an Anateri?”
There had been a time where she would have said it was impossible to read what Fallon was thinking. That time was gone. His eyebrows, the twitch of his mouth, these things were as plain as day when you knew what to look for. Right now, he was amused. It made Shea want to yank on his tail just to mess with him.
“You would have to give up your relationship with me.” He gave her a look, one with slumberous eyes and a wicked tilt to his lips. “Is that what you want? To give me up?”
He was messing back. She considered him from beneath her eyelashes. Two could play this game.
“And if it is?”
“Then I would step aside.”
“You would let me join the Anateri? You wouldn’t try to stop me?”
“It would be your decision.”
Shea narrowed her eyes on him. There was a catch in there—she could feel it.
The rest of the group moved towards the long tables set up in the middle of the chamber as their hosts began carrying large platters of food inside. Shea and Fallon didn’t move, eyes locked on one another.
Try as she might, she couldn’t find the catch. She finally broke his gaze to move towards the tables.
“Of course, I never said I wouldn’t try to convince you otherwise.”
A light touch trailed down the side of Shea’s neck, setting off a wave of goosebumps that traveled down her spine. Her stride hitched, and she sucked in a breath at the demonstration of just how he would go about convincing her.
He stepped past her as he aimed a look filled with heat her way, one that reminded of her long nights tangled in sheets pressed skin to skin. She met his look with a smoldering one of her own. This time it was his turn to pause, his regarding her in that particular way—part wonderment and part unfiltered desire. It stole her breath as it always did.
“Lady, we have a surprise for you,” Eckbert said as Shea stepped away from Fallon and the almost physical effect he asserted on her body.
“That wasn’t necessary,” Shea said. She figured it was another host gift, a common feature of these dinners.
“It was a surprise for us as well,” Ilyra said. Her voice and face held a hint of caution, and she gave Fallon and his men a small glance before focusing back on Shea.
There was something in her tone. Something that put Shea’s senses on alert.
“How about you show us what this surprise is?” Shea said, her eyes guarded now.
“It’s not so much a what as a who,” Eckbert confided. He seemed as reserved as Ilyra. It was a shift in the façade he’d presented earlier.
Yup, she was definitely not looking forward to whatever was coming.
Eckbert and Ilyra shared a glance. An entire conversation seemed to take space in the span of moments. With a huff, Ilyra gestured at one of the attendants who turned and walked off.
“What’s this?” Fallon asked, as he looked at the two leaders as he would a possible threat.
“The villagers have a surprise for us,” Shea said through gritted teeth.
“You don’t sound pleased about this.”
“Probably because I’m not.” Her response was low, almost inaudible.
Fallon’s gaze was thoughtful as he looked from Shea to their hosts. He made a gesture and the Anateri shifted, one moment seeming harmless and at ease, and the next second on their guard, watching their surroundings with suspicious eyes. There was a thread of tension that coursed through them and Fallon’s generals. One that hadn’t been there before. All from a simple gesture from their warlord.
There was a commotion at the entrance across from them as the villagers parted and two figures stepped inside. The first was the villager Ilyra had sent off.
Shea drew in a sharp breath at the sight of the second, a man only a shade taller than the villager. Shea knew even before getting a closer look that he would have eyes of the palest blue, the kind that Shea had only seen rarely in the very northern parts of the Highlands, where giant ice sheets marched back and forth across the land as the seasons changed.
“Reece.” Her face was stricken.
It couldn’t be. He was never assigned this far south, as he said the Lowlands were much too tame for the type of work he liked. No, they never would have sent him here.
His pale blue eyes flashed at her, and he gave her a mocking look, taking in the brooding warlord at her side. He cocked his head at her and shook his head.
“Warlord, Lady,” Eckbert nodded to each of them respectfully. “May I present a traveler who came to us last night and requested an audience with your esteemed selves.”
“And just who is this traveler?” Fallon asked, his voice a lazy whip. He was in warlord mode, his face a mask that said he could crush this entire tree without breaking a sweat.
“Pathfinder Reece, at your service.” Even with the half bow, Reece managed to put a world of disdain and attitude into that statement.
“Pathfinder.” Fallon’s words were like a stone thrown into still water, bringing the focus of the entire gathering down on them.
The circle of Anateri tightened around the three of them. The two village elders had the sense to look uneasy at being between the Anateri and the stranger in their midst.
Reece rose from his mocking bow. “Indeed, much as your lovely companion there once was.”
Fallon didn’t take his eyes off the other man. Nonetheless, Shea knew what he was waiting for. “He’s not lying. He is a pathfinder.”
“What are you doing here, pathfinder?”
Reece cocked one eyebrow. “It seems you didn’t respond to my note, so I was forced to take matters into my own hands.”
The smile that broke across Fallon’s face was the stuff of nightmares. It was victory and retribution all at once. Reece blanched, looking for a moment like he finally realized the extent of the predicament he was in.
“And are you the same person who left that note on our pillow?” Fallon’s voice was silky. He didn’t move but the space suddenly seemed a lot more cramped.
He didn’t wait for the other man’s assent, springing forward before anyone could react and grabbing Reece by the collar of his shirt. Fallon lifted him half off the ground and shook him. “I need to pay you in kind for that little stunt.”
“Call off your brute, Shea.” Reece glared at Fallon.
“He doesn’t answer to me.”
Reece sneered. “Then what good is he?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I can think of a few things.” Shea’s voice was bored, as if what was taking place in front of her didn’t affect her in the least. That was a lie. Her insides twisted and turned as if she’d swallowed a swarm of snakes.
“I never figured you for the type who was distracted by what was between your legs,” Reece said. “He is handsome, I’ll give you that, but you would have done better with someone a little less in touch with their inner barbarian. Someone more amenable to being led around by his nose.”
The words stung, but Shea didn’t let it show. Reece was the type to key onto what bothered you and then poke and poke until you snapped. Smart man that he was, he usually managed to escape the resulting blast. He’d done similar things to her growing up, while they were mentored under the same pathfinder.
Fallon bared his teeth and lifted Reece higher. The smaller man grimaced and tried to wiggle free. Fallon’s grip didn’t budge.
“I wouldn’t antagonize him if I were you,” Shea told Reece. “I’m not lying when I say he doesn’t answer to me. He can and will snap your neck if it suits him.”
He tossed him at Caden. “Take him into custody. No one is to interrogate him until I get there.”
“Understood.” Caden pulled Reece’s arms behind him and slipped a tie around his wrists, binding him so he couldn’t attack. Shea wanted to point out that Reece would need his arms for the descent to the encampment but kept quiet. They would figure that out themselves soon enough.
Fallon aimed a fierce frown at Eckbert and Ilyra. “Would either of you like to tell me why you provided shelter to one of my enemies?”
“Yes, I would be interested to know that as well,” Van said, his voice gleeful. His look had the anticipation of a predator scenting blood. “I say we skip the explanations and you let me take care of this matter.”
Ilyra blanched ever so slightly and Eckbert drew himself up as tall as his back stooped with age would allow him.
Fallon’s lips tightened, and he seemed to be thinking it over.
“It’s part of their culture,” Shea blurted out. “The forest can be a cold and dark place. For that reason, they extend shelter and guest rights to any who visit. I’ve never heard of them turning a traveler away. If they’d wished to act against you, they never would have presented him at this dinner.”
Shea faced Fallon and Van and kept her expression calm, even if it was the last thing she felt. There was a palpable tension on the air, one so thick that it seemed like the room could explode into violence at any moment. The Anateri, along with the generals, had dropped one hand to the blades at their waist. They eyed their surroundings with a hostility that increased by the minute.
Several of the villagers, hunters if Shea didn’t missed her guess, had adopted similar positions. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement. Men and women armed with bows and arrows took up position along the edge of the room. A few held spears and knives. They didn’t raise them, but the threat was there.
Shea took a step, placing herself between the two sides. Fallon’s eyes narrowed as he took notice of what she’d done. If either side attacked, she would be caught in the crossfire. Rage sparked to life behind his whiskey colored eyes, and his nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and released it. Just like that, all that anger was hidden, leaving her to deal with the impervious warlord.
She took a deep breath. She didn’t know what she was doing. She just knew she couldn’t stand by while the situation escalated.
“Ilyra, Eckbert, would you like to explain how Reece came to be a visitor here?”
Ilyra’s eyes were careful. She knew the significance of what Shea had done. “He approached our heart late last night and requested guest rights.”
“Your heart?” Fallon’s question was a snap of sound
“It’s what they call the village center that resides in the trunk of the tree,” Shea told Fallon.
“You did not think it suspicious? His arrival so late at night?” Darius asked.
Eckbert shook his head. “We thought nothing of it. The pathfinders have long been visitors of this place and they often show up at odd times.”
“And when he requested an audience with the Hawkvale?” Braden asked.
Eckbert shrugged. “We assumed he was seeking an alliance with your people much as we have. The Telroi was once a pathfinder. It is not outside the realm of possibility that the pathfinders would want to assure themselves of her health. It’s our understanding that they take the continued well-being of their people very seriously no matter how far they stray.”
Shea shifted uncomfortably. That was very true and might have been the case had she not fully aligned herself with the Trateri. Now, she doubted they would shed a tear if she was to meet with an unexpected ending.
“Yes, we had no idea you would have such an extreme reaction to the pathfinder’s presence.” Ilyra managed to sound both mildly reproachful and respectful at the same time.
Fallon studied them under veiled eyes, his expression not giving away any of his thoughts. Shea held her breath.
“Very well,” he said at last. “Your explanation is reasonable. I believe you did not know of our feelings on this particular pathfinder and did not mean any harm in your actions.”
Shea released a breath.
“That still does not negate the fact that a potential enemy got so close. Darius and several of my men will take up residence in your village to keep something of this nature from happening again.”
“Is that really necessary?” Ilyra asked. She seemed concerned at the thought of a squad of Trateri soldiers moving in for the foreseeable future.
“It is as much for your protection as ours. I had not considered the possibility that my enemies might latch on to you as an avenue to infiltrate my ranks or use your home as a platform to launch an attack from above. I will take steps to correct that oversight.”
Eckbert cackled. “Too true. I will have our people prepare a place for them to sleep. Perhaps some of your men will like to visit the oasis with our women.”
Ilyra gave him a disgusted look before casting her eyes up to the ceiling with a beleaguered expression. “Our women aren’t broodmares for you to trot out to tempt men with, you old fool.”
Eckbert looked affronted. “I never said they were, but if the opportunity presents itself and the two parties would like a little alone time, I’m not one to stop them.”
Chirron and Van looked a little startled at the exchange, neither one looking like they believed what they were hearing. Even Shea was a bit startled at the extent of Eckbert’s desire to see the women of his village impregnated. It just wasn’t a view typical to the Lowlands where they guarded their women’s virtue with a rigorous zealotry. They treated them by turns like precious treasure or valuable livestock whose bloodlines needed to be preserved. The Airabel villagers did not seem to prescribe to that same thought process. Judging by the way a few women were eyeing Fallon and his generals, Shea was willing to bet Eckbert’s wishes would be honored at the first opportunity.
Fallon opened his hands and gave them a fierce grin. “Now, shall we enjoy this feast you’ve put together for us?”