IT WAS nighttime before Shea made her way back to her tent after checking on her friends. They were lucky. They’d come through the attack with minor injuries. Clark and Charles had been in the underbrush tracking down those Trateri who hadn’t made it back to the starting point at the assigned time. Once they’d heard and seen the attack, they’d led those with them to shelter under the web of roots from the soul tree. Neither one had suffered any injuries.
Eamon and Buck had been less fortunate. Both had been in one of the fields competing when the attack began and instead of taking cover had rallied those around them into small groups to harry the birds. Both had taken minor injuries. Buck would have a scar from his shoulder to the middle of his chest from the eagle’s claws as a reminder.
She was just glad they were safe. She didn’t need even more deaths to feel responsible for. Though according to Fallon, she had assumed a responsibility that wasn’t hers to begin with.
Both Trenton and Wilhelm were a silent presence at her side throughout. She was too tired to resent their presence.
She stepped inside her tent after murmuring a greeting to the Anateri standing guard. Trenton, her ever present shadow, stopped to have a discussion with them as she pushed her way inside.
Darius, Braden, and several of the clan leaders were gathered around the dining table, maps spread out before them. Everyone was still dressed in their battle armor and armed with weapons.
Fallon looked up at Shea from where he leaned against the table. He nodded his head at the plate by his side.
Shea was tempted to just keep walking. The events of the day had drained her. She didn’t know if she had it in her to sit through whatever this was. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since the morning meal.
She walked to Fallon’s side. He nudged the plate piled high with her favorite foods her way as Darius gave a status report.
“We lost twenty during the attack,” he said, looking around the table. “Most of those were unable to defend themselves—the old or the very young. A few warriors but mostly noncombatants.”
“A relatively minor amount, considering some of the battles we fought down south,” Van said, his face pulled into a frown.
“The problem is the blow to morale.” Braden’s serious gaze touched on Shea before moving on. “Our people take attacks aimed at our heart seriously. They will be out for blood once they’ve recovered their equilibrium.”
“My men are already threatening to lead a war party to these eagles,” an unfamiliar man said. Shea guessed he was the clan leader for Ember or Rain. She wasn’t sure which.
“They’ll have to travel quite a ways,” Shea inserted, after swallowing the piece of meat in her mouth.
“And you are?” The man’s gaze was cold as he observed Shea the way one might a bug.
She didn’t let his tone deter her, used to it by now. “Someone familiar with the golden eagles’ territory and habits.”
She pulled one of the maps closer to her. They’d chosen one that represented most of the Broken Lands, though the spaces where the Badlands and the Highlands should have been were mostly blank. Just a few mountains drawn in, with the Trateri sign for danger interspersed throughout.
“They make their nests in the mountains near here.” Shea pointed to a spot at the top of the map, well past their known landmarks; it was just blank space. In reality, their home was further north than she’d indicated, but she thought this made her point quite nicely. “To get to them, you’d have to climb Bearan’s Fault before walking a few hundred miles over extremely rough terrain until you reach the passes that make up the Dragon’s Tooth mountain range—it spans three hundred miles—and then cross the plains of Eire. You’ll be easy pickings for the eagles on those plains, but perhaps you’ll get lucky.”
The other man’s gaze was even more remote and cold when she finished. She didn’t let that bother her, preferring to keep him and his men alive rather than make a friend.
“The golden eagles are not the enemy,” Fallon said, his gaze challenging the other man. “They are just the weapon our enemy has chosen to wield.”
“It seems our enemy has many weapons to choose from,” the other man returned. He lifted his chin in challenge.
All he needed was to flare his nostrils and stomp his feet and he’d look exactly like a bull male skarrygh facing-off with another for the right to rut with his chosen female.
“Gawain.” Henry’s voice held a warning.
The man’s eyes shifted to Henry, but held no less challenge. “I am simply making an observation. The Hawkvale promised us riches and spoils to make up for abandoning our ancestral lands. Since coming to this forsaken place, I have seen little evidence of either.”
“Perhaps, had your people joined us sooner and not waited until we were already victorious, they might have taken a piece of the wealth the rest of us split for ourselves,” Ben said. The head of the Earth Clan’s voice was calm and even. He didn’t spare a look for Gawain and instead remained focused on the maps in front of him.
“So we could face dishonorable deaths?” Gawain arched one eyebrow.
Shea stiffened at that assertion. She did not like the insinuation that dying at a beast’s claws was dishonorable. She’d known many men and women who fell to beasts. This man with his superior attitude wasn’t going to disparage them. Especially when he probably had little to no experience with beasts.
“What’s dishonorable about it?” Shea asked, her gaze direct. He wasn’t the only one who could be challenging. The clan heads glanced at her, some with disdain, as if to say she had no place talking in these meetings. She continued before anyone could stop her. “Tell me. What is so dishonorable at dying at the claws of a beast?”
His response was a derisive stare.
No answer. That was alright; Shea had plenty to say.
“When’s the last time you fought off a revenant pack with nothing but your sword and a few good men?” He didn’t answer. The table was dead silent. “How many eagles did your men bring down? Because the Wind Division brought down two, but not before three men gave their lives to protect women and children. What’s so damn dishonorable about that?” Shea’s chest heaved as she shouted the last words. She refused to look away from Gawain, whose expression had soured as she continued.
When she had made her point, she looked around the table, noting those who met her eyes and those who looked away. Henry, Darius and Braden weren’t afraid to hold her gaze. Ben gave her a small nod of respect. Van looked away. The last man, one of the new clan leaders she’d yet to be introduced to, looked mildly interested.
Shea’s hands shook ever so slightly where they rested on the table. She hated losing her temper. It always felt like she’d overreacted, and she was left dealing with the fallout.
Fallon’s hand slid over one of hers and he gave it a slight squeeze. She glanced at him to find him regarding his clan leaders with an impassive expression.
After a long moment in which no one spoke, Fallon said, “I have a pathfinder in my custody, one who has had much to say about the recent increase in beast activity and the emergence of the mist.”
All eyes turned to Shea, suspicion in several of them. She gave them her best Fallon impression, channeling an impassivity that she didn’t feel. Her stomach was tight with nerves and a sense of dread.
“How convenient that you’ve found one of these people so soon after the attack,” Gawain said, carefully avoiding looking at Shea.
She narrowed her eyes at him. He might not have overtly indicated her as the architect behind this, but she got the point.
Fallon ignored his words. “This person has indicated the pathfinders may have knowledge to share about these attacks.”
Shea kept her surprise off her face. He hadn’t said anything about the beast call or the possibility that the pathfinders might be the ones behind this.
“I’ve decided to take a force into the Highlands at their invitation to see what we can uncover and if there are any weapons we might take advantage of.” Fallon’s tone invited no dissent.
“Why can’t she tell us what we need to know?” the strange clan leader said, jerking his head at Shea.
“Shea has already shared her knowledge,” Fallon said, the words little more than a growl.
“Rather freely, in fact,” Braden said, surprising Shea. “Ember, you should send some of your vanguard to the beast class she started. They could do with picking up a few pointers.”
If he was Ember, then Gawain must be Rain.
“I will keep that in mind,” Ember said with an interested nod.
“If you ladies are done trading secrets, could we get back to the point at hand?” Van complained.
“I am not sure I see the purpose in leading a force into the Highlands,” Ben volunteered, his mouth pulled into a somber line. “You’ve already stated previously that there is no easy way to get the men, mounts and supplies we need into the Highlands.”
“That’s true.” Fallon braced his hands against the table. “I’ve recently learned there might be an alternate route.”
Shea stiffened and her gaze swung toward Fallon to find his eyes resting on her. She held his gaze for a moment. Surely Reece hadn’t told him about the caverns.
The knowledge was there in Fallon’s eyes. Shit, he had. How serious was this for the pathfinders to let that knowledge fall into the hands of outsiders? And how likely was it that they would let those same outsiders live once they’d fulfilled their role?
Fallon pulled the map towards him and pointed to a spot fifty miles west of the Badlands. “This pathfinder claims there are caverns that lead right up into the Highlands. It’s supposed to be considerably easier to navigate than the cliffs, and we’ll be able to take the mounts and supplies.”
The men stared at the spot he pointed at.
“Why weren’t we made aware of this before?” Ben asked.
Fallon’s council leveled gazes heavy with accusation on him. There was the feel in the air that Shea sometimes sensed right before a storm. The mood was about three breaths from violence.
Van’s eyes narrowed, and he looked about ready to issue a challenge, one that Fallon would be forced to fight. Normally, she would bet on Fallon any day of the week. She’d seen him fight. The man possessed an almost supernatural skill with the blade. But she knew he was tired and bruised, having fought with his men to bring down the eagles as well as participated in the tournament.
“He didn’t know about them,” Shea said, before any more accusations could be thrown. “I never told him.”
She’d probably just made her life a thousand times more difficult, but better that, than seeing Fallon’s people turn on him. Not when she could prevent it.
Shea found herself the center of attention once again.
“And why is that?” Braden asked, his forehead wrinkling with a frown.
Judging by the anger on some of the clan leader’s faces, Braden’s question was the more civilized version of what others wanted to say.
She met his stare with a calm expression. “My people do not give that information out lightly, for reasons I’m sure you can imagine.”
“How are we supposed to trust this woman when she continues to harbor secrets?” Van asked. The look he leveled on Shea made no secret of his distrust.
She forced herself to meet his gaze evenly. Not letting him intimidate her despite the tight feeling in her belly. Worse, was the thought that Fallon might be harboring some of those same thoughts. She couldn’t even fault him if that was the case. She did keep secrets—things that could drastically turn the tide for his people.
Sometimes she felt like a piece of meat caught between two ravenous wolf packs, tugged back and forth, until she threatened to rip right down the center.
“I agree with Lion Clan,” Gawain said, watching Shea with an avarice that didn’t suit the present discussion. “How do we know that anything discussed here will not reach our enemies ears?”
Fallon’s brows lowered into a dark scowl. “You question my honor.”
“Not your honor, just your choice of bedmates,” Gawain said.
“Gawain, you will respect your Warlord,” Henry’s voice was a whip of sound.
The skin at the corner of Gawain’s eyes tightened and his shoulders rose as he took a deep breath. “How can you defend him like this, Father?” Gawain asked, finally turning to address the leader of the Horse clan.
Shea fought to keep her surprise off her face at the revelation that Gawain and Henry were related. She glanced between the two. They looked nothing alike. Gawain was easily a foot taller than Henry and the bones in his face were much finer, giving him an almost delicate appearance.
“His Telroi has already admitted to withholding relevant information from our armies.” Gawain gestured at Shea.
“My armies,” Fallon corrected, his regard dagger-like in its sharpness.
Gawain paused in what he’d been about to say. Fallon waited until the rest had focused on him.
“Not your armies. Mine.” He looked at each clan leader in turn. “In case any of you have forgotten.”
The clan leaders dropped their eyes from the challenge in his, and an awkward silence descended. At least awkward to Shea, since she was the cause of the dispute.
Braden met Fallon’s gaze with a stubborn one of his own, while Darius had a thoughtful expression on his face. Shea suspected that any ground she might have won with Braden had disappeared with her admission that she’d withheld information regarding the Highland’s defenses.
She kept her sigh inside.
Fallon returned his gaze to Gawain, giving him his full regard. It was like watching two titans square off, prepared to do battle. Only, one of these titans held all of the weapons and was assured the win.
Gawain bared his teeth in a fake smile. “Of course, Warlord. I never dreamed otherwise.”
Fallon let it go, his body relaxing next to Shea’s. “As I said, I will take a small force into these Highlands and meet with these pathfinders to see if there are any weapons that we might use in this battle.”
“We could go back to our lands,” Ben said. “We’ve gained our spoils from the Lowlands. Our people have never lingered this long after conquering our enemy.”
There was a rustle as the others murmured varying degrees of agreement.
Fallon looked at Braden and bowed his head. The other stranger, the one they’d called Ember, shifted, his big body appearing discomfited for the first time.
Braden took a deep breath. “That’s not an option.”
“For more than one reason.” Fallon’s words didn’t invite questions.
Ember and Braden looked like they might say more, before settling back at a warning look from Fallon. Neither appeared happy.
“I’ll be taking an element from all of the clans. Darius will work with the division commanders to identify those who will follow me into the Highlands. The rest will stay here and maintain the progress we’ve already made.” He waited a beat as the rest of the clan leaders absorbed this information. “That is all. You are dismissed. Tend to your injured and comfort your people.”
The group dispersed. Shea was interested to note Gawain and Van leaving together, their heads close as they murmured together.
“That’s going to turn into a pain in the ass,” Darius said coming to stand next to her.
She made a sound of agreement before glancing up at the normally genial-looking man. Today, his face had grooves carved into his skin, his eyes tired with a hint of sorrow behind them.
They weren’t close—he was more Fallon’s friend than hers and had been responsible for essentially kidnapping her from her former life—but she couldn’t help the empathy she felt for him. She had friends here, but he’d grown up with these people. He probably had family and friends that were put in danger.
“Did you lose anyone?” Shea asked.
He nodded, grief leaking through his normal shields.
She hesitated before laying a hand on his shoulder. Words always felt so inadequate in situations like these. She remembered people voicing platitudes after her return from the Badlands. They brought little comfort and usually made her want to punch something.
Sometimes the only thing to do was offer silent commiseration.
After a long moment Darius said, “Eamon and his team are among my first choice to head into the Highlands.” His eyes were shrewd as Shea looked away. “Their time spent with you will serve them well, I think. They’re uniquely qualified to face the dangers of your homeland.”
Shea couldn’t argue with that. Of any in Fallon’s army, Eamon and Buck were the two who were most prepared for what lay above the fault. Their time spent with her meant they’d learned more than most about beast sign, not to mention the campfire stories she’d shared on occasion. Nothing that would have pointed to her origin, just stories meant to caution about what lay in the dark places of these lands.
“You’re going to have to make a choice, you know,” Darius said when Shea was quiet. “Between us and who you used to be. Someone who splits their loyalty between two gives their loyalty to none.”
“It’s not that easy,” Shea said. “I may wish to keep my life here but that doesn’t mean I can ignore what has gone before.”
Darius nodded. There was understanding in his eyes. “You’re in a difficult position. One I don’t envy. Do me a favor; at least consider my words. For Fallon’s sake, if nothing else. Your actions affect not just yourself. A question of your loyalty is a question of his as well.”
Shea didn’t have a response. Seeing that she was considering his words, Darius gave her a respectful nod before taking his leave.
Fallon kept to his side of the tent as the rest of the people who’d attended the council left. Caden stopped beside him, waiting until the rest had emptied out.
“Do you have the report?” Fallon asked.
Caden gave a sharp nod. “With the eagle attack, my men were delayed starting the search for her attackers. They found no one in the forest.”
“And the remains of those caught by this sleeper vine?”
“Only a few bits of metal were left. There were no distinguishing marks on the pieces, so we have nothing.”
Fallon gave a grim nod and waved his hand in dismissal.
Shea waited until Caden left before approaching Fallon. She wiped sweaty palms on her pants. For the first time in a while, she wasn’t sure of her welcome.
He hadn’t seemed angry when he’d revealed the caverns, but that could have been for the benefit of his council. She knew that had the situations been reversed, she would not have been so forgiving.
There was a rustle from the partition and then a head topped with a riot of blond curls appeared about a foot off the ground as Mist peeked under the cloth hangings one of Fallon’s servants had hung in place of the old partition.
Seeing that the coast was clear, Mist disappeared back into Shea and Fallon’s sleeping quarters. Her rear appeared as the she crawled backwards through the partition. Shea watched with a tinge of amusement as the child dragged a fur that was easily three times her size across the floor and then under the table Fallon leaned against. There, Mist mounded her fur, creating a nest at Fallon’s feet.
For the first time in hours, Shea felt a lightening to the feelings of seriousness and near hopelessness the eagles had brought with them.
She walked to the table and knelt down. “What are you doing down there?”
Mist’s eyes appeared over her fur, their blue depths dancing with the mirth only a child could summon. She was silent as she ducked back under her furs. A giggle tinkled up from her nest.
Fallon crouched down, observing the child-sized lump under the furs before he looked to Shea. His lips curved the barest bit at the corners before he stood. Shea took that to mean he didn’t mind Mist’s presence.
Shea set a hand on what she thought was the lump’s back and shook it gently. She was rewarded by the sound of a faint giggle.
She smiled as she stood. The smile remained even as she met Fallon’s eyes over the table.
He had several maps and reports spread out before him. “Are you planning to keep the lostling?”
“Lostling?”
“It’s what we call those who’ve lost their families or been abandoned to the mercy of the clan.”
Shea supposed it was a better term than throwaway, but not by much.
Her gaze was pensive as she stared at the table under which Mist had bedded down. She wasn’t sure how to have this conversation. To be honest, she hadn’t thought much beyond saving the little girl and had never considered what would come after.
“What would happen to her if we didn’t keep her?” Shea asked in a cautious voice. There was no way she could send the child back to the people who had abused her.
“She wouldn’t be given to the people who had her before if that’s what you’re asking,” Fallon said. Seeing the question on her face, he continued, “Chirron told me about the bruises and scars you found on her. Some old and showing signs of healing.”
She nodded, her face grim at the reminder. She rolled her lips between her teeth, not sure whether to ask about what should be done about the people who’d abused her.
“Do you know what clan she came from?” Shea asked.
“Chirron plans to ask around to see if he can find who was supposed to be caring for her. It will be more difficult than I’d like with all of the newcomers. It would help narrow the search if you can get details from her.”
Shea screwed her face up into a grimace. She wasn’t sure she was the right person for the task, not having extensive experience with children. They were cute, but she’d never interacted with them for more than a few minutes every couple of months. She had a feeling the conversation with Mist could go very badly, very quickly. The last thing she wanted to do after the traumatizing experiences of this afternoon and the trauma of her past abuse was further scar the child for life.
Fallon lifted an eyebrow, guessing at Shea’s thoughts. “Children are not as fragile as you seem to think. You’ve got her trust, and I’m betting she considers you a hero after you saved her from the eagle. Just talk to her and see what you can find out.”
He made it sound so easy. Too bad she had a feeling it would be like trying to walk a tight rope through a nest of hornets.
“How do you know so much about children?” Shea asked.
“I’ve spent many hours with the children of the various clans, playing, and getting to know them when I can.”
Shea felt surprise at this admission. It wasn’t that she thought Fallon an ogre incapable of dealing with children, but she had never pictured him going out of his way to spend time with the mini beasts.
It explained so much. In the first mission she’d embarked on when Eamon mistook her for a scout and forced her to join his squad, they’d come across a village that had sacrificed their children to a revenant pack. Even day-old babies had not been spared. Fallon had executed every man and woman in that village with the exception of two, whom he charged with telling everyone they met of what he’d done to their village. And if that wasn’t enough, he also burned down every building until they were fine ash before burning the fields of crops and then salting the ground they stood on.
The Trateri didn’t mess around when it came to vengeance. They took honor very seriously. Cross them and it wouldn’t be just one person paying the price.
The incident had been the start of Shea seeing the Trateri as more than just people she needed to escape from.
“What will you do when Chirron locates those responsible for her care?” Shea asked, suspecting she knew the answer already.
“Children are the clan’s future. Neglect them and you neglect the heart of your clan.” Fallon’s brows lowered, and his expression darkened. “Anybody who could abuse a child of their clan is not someone I want among my people. They will be dealt with in the way I deal with all of my enemies.”
Death. And probably not a very nice death at that. She still had nightmares sometimes about the manner in which Fallon had put his brother to death. It was a slow, torturous, way to go. She sometimes heard the pleading and sobbing in unguarded moments. His death had been justifiable, given he’d tried to have Fallon killed several times. That didn’t mean she rejoiced in it.
Shea tapped the fingertips of one hand against the table as she delayed the next thing she wanted to ask.
“I did not need you to protect me from my council,” Fallon said, bringing up the topic Shea dreaded.
She jerked one shoulder up in a shrug. “I told the truth.”
“The truth is a weapon best wielded carefully.”
She cocked her head. “The truth is the truth. It doesn’t change.”
He arched an eyebrow as his lips quirked. “Doesn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
His face was thoughtful as he considered his next words. “When you are leading an expedition, how do you make your decision on what course to take?”
“I consult any maps I might have of the area. If it’s a route I’m familiar with, I take into account what beasts may be close, the physical capabilities of those with me and the likely obstacles we will encounter on any given path.”
“How much of that do you share with those you lead?”
She saw his point. The answer was very little. Some because they wouldn’t care, but mostly because she didn’t trust those type of decisions to committee. She’d always operated under the assumption that what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. They couldn’t argue with her if she just gave them the answer she thought best.
She thought a moment and then conceded, well they could, but it was a lot easier to ignore them or get them to do what she wanted, if she didn’t explain how she had arrived at that conclusion.
She frowned at Fallon. “That situation is different. I didn’t trust the ones I led to make the right decisions or to keep themselves alive. Your council should be different.”
Right?
“Why? Because they’re Trateri?” His smile was humorless. “Or is it because you think clan leaders should be above such things. I trust them as much I would a viper at my throat. Perhaps less. They are my allies because it serves their needs, but make no mistake, they would turn on me in a moment if it served their purposes and they thought they could survive.”
“I thought you trusted Darius and Braden.”
He nodded. “They are among the few. I consider them brothers.” An echo of pain entered his expression. “Perhaps more so than my actual blood. I can trust that they and my Anateri are unlikely to betray me.”
Her gaze sharpened. That sounded like he allowed for the possibility for anyone to have the potential of betrayal. That was a distressing thought. Did he feel the same about her? Was he waiting for her to turn against him? She didn’t know if she could live her life constantly having to prove her love and loyalty.
“Your army is loyal to you.”
He nodded. “Yes, and many of the clans as well. The difference is they love a legend—the Hawkvale, the warlord to unite all of the clans under one banner. It is both harder and easier to lose their trust and loyalty.”
She understood what he meant. An idea was both easier and harder to discredit. It was ephemeral, something intangible. As Shea had discovered when she was a scout, everyone had a story about the Hawkvale. He was this larger than life character that they only knew by what they’d heard.
It would only take a few well-placed rumors and whispers to get the ball rolling. If Fallon’s actions then fed into that rumor, it wouldn’t be long before the morale in his army turned nasty. For instance, if the loyalty of his Telroi was called into question, his men might not be so willing to back him against the clan leaders.
She looked down at the table, drawing a pattern against the wood as she pondered his words.
His hand touched hers. “Our enemies are numerous, and they are looking for a chink in our defenses. They are hungry for blood. To everyone else, we are partners, united against all comers.”
On the surface, she believed his words wholeheartedly, but there was an undercurrent to them that left her feeling their time together was running short. She covered his hand with her own and leaned into him, resting her forehead on his bicep.
How was she going to balance the two forces in her life without losing sight of who she was and the promises she’d made?
His other hand cupped the back of her head. He smoothed her hair before touching his lips to her ear.
He tugged on her, scooping her up and dragging her into his lap. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him, setting her chin on his shoulder.
“You know they’re going to try to kill you,” she said softly into his ear. She wasn’t talking about his council.
His arms tightened around her for a brief moment. “They may try, but better men than them have failed.”
She sighed and pressed her face into the side of his neck.
“They’ll seek to divide us. They’ll strike while we’re not looking.”
“They will not be successful.”
She wanted to believe him. She really did. She just didn’t know if she could. He didn’t understand her people like she did.
“This is not a good idea.”
“You said it yourself. There is something wrong. We must do everything we can to find that problem and destroy it.” He moved a piece of hair away from her face. His thumb ran up and down the side of her neck in a caress that sent shivers coursing through Shea’s body. She leaned into his touch. “Besides, wasn’t it you who advocated for going up there to see what was happening?”
She pulled back, her eyes snapping fire at him. “I’d planned to go by myself, and you damn well know it.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “How is that less dangerous than what I have planned? At least I will be taking an army to protect my back.”
She rolled her eyes. “More like present a nice big target. I could have slipped in and out before anyone was the wiser. You can’t kill what you don’t even know is there.”
“Now who’s cocky?”
She gave him a sharp grin. “It’s not arrogance if it’s true.”
His smile when it came was dark and wicked and hinted of things done in the dark. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers. She met the fury of his passion with a storm of her own.
There was a small giggle from the ground.
Shea and Fallon pulled apart, looking at each other with equally surprised looks. They turned in unison to find an imp with a mass of blond curls and blue eyes staring up at them in innocence.
“I forgot she was here,” Fallon said in bemusement.
The statement struck Shea as funny and she buried her face in his neck as she shook with laughter.
His chest rumbled as he chuckled. He leaned back to stare at the ceiling. “We’ll have to figure out other living arrangements for her tomorrow. She can’t stay in our room at night.”
The thought of a child’s presence forcing the Warlord to abstinence made Shea laugh harder.
“You’re the one who wanted children,” Shea said after she’d gotten her laughter under control.
He stared at the child with a put-out expression. “I’m beginning to rethink that decision.”
She pressed a kiss against his jaw and stood. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s find you a place to sleep for the night.”
Mist scampered out from under the table and ran up to hug Fallon before latching onto Shea’s hand.