Mist's Edge (The Broken Lands #2) - T.A. White Page 0,108
tents.
“Do you know where you’re going?”
He knew she didn’t.
She’d stormed out of the tent when he failed to answer, and now she was wandering around the encampment with no real clue as to where to find Reece. She was faced with admitting her hotheadedness or committing to this course of action.
Fallon paced along beside her, his large form shadowing hers. “How long do you intend to waste your time when you could just ask for help?”
Shea took a deep breath and stopped, turning to meet Fallon’s eyes. He lifted one eyebrow expectantly. Nope. She couldn’t do it. She turned on her heel and kept walking.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. His lips covered hers before she could form a protest.
Need rose in her—a torrential feeling threatening to subsume her beneath its fury. The pure gratitude that they were both alive to fight, and love, and everything that came with it.
The fury of their passion eased, and she pressed several kisses to his lips before she pulled away and pressed her face into his chest. His arms were a warm weight around her as he rested his chin on top of her head.
Together they breathed, Fallon’s hand smoothing down the back of her head.
Seeing him race into danger had given her new insight into how he must feel when she did the same. She was just grateful that he’d come out the other side unharmed. There were some among the Trateri who had not been so lucky.
She sniffed and stepped back, her eyes holding his for a long moment. Understanding was there. Understanding and a somber realization that the day could have very easily ended differently—that it very nearly had.
Shea had been lucky with that stunt with the eagle. By rights she should be dead or at least gravely injured. If it hadn’t veered toward that copse of branches when it had, she and Mist would have hit the ground with nothing to break their momentum and probably have broken every bone in their bodies.
“He’s this way,” Fallon said.
He took her hand and led her through the camp. A thin coating of sadness covered the people Shea saw. The Trateri moved with a grim purpose as they prepared for a second possible attack from the eagles.
They’d fortified several of the tents and had set upraised sentry posts at regular intervals in the camp. Several of Fallon’s soldiers manned them, their eyes turned to the skies and long-range weapons held in their hands. She even thought she saw a boomer or two among them.
Fallon noticed where she was looking. “I authorized the use of the boomers should the golden eagles attack again.”
“I thought you’d decided not to put those into circulation because of your limited access to the bullets.”
Fallon’s men had confiscated several of the weapons from villages throughout the Lowlands, but never in the numbers he needed to implement their use in his army. That, coupled with the fact that the maintenance, and the bullets used to fire the weapon were in short supply, had meant that they were an oddity the Trateri found interesting but ultimately useless.
“These circumstances have required a special response. Witt has been training several men in the use of the boomers—none quite measure up to your friend Dane yet, but he’s confident that they can acquit themselves well.” Fallon stepped around a clump of Trateri who were holding an impromptu briefing. “Caden is working directly with their commanders to make sure the weapons are handled with the appropriate respect and aren’t used for personal vendettas.”
Shea wouldn’t want to be one of them should a weapon go missing or be used inappropriately. Caden was a scary ball crusher when he wanted.
They stopped in front of a tent guarded by one of Fallon’s Anateri, one that was familiar from last night. Shea’s anger rushed back to the forefront. She didn’t wait for Fallon’s permission before she stalked toward the Anateri. He spared a glance for Fallon, asking without words for his permission, before he pulled back the tent flap so Shea could step inside.
“Was this you?” Shea didn’t wait for an answer before she was in Reece’s space, her hands clasped on his shirt. “Did you do this?”
Reece’s hands came up to grab hers as he tried to pull away. There was a cot in the room and he was unbound. They were nicer accommodations than Shea would have guessed, considering how angry Fallon had been with his presence when he first showed up.