Mist's Edge (The Broken Lands #2) - T.A. White Page 0,121
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.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“DOES SHE speak?” Daere asked, her gaze fastened on Mist as the little girl investigated the tangled ivy growing along the trunk of the tree. Mist’s gaze was fascinated as she bent closer to peer at something among the vines.
“Not much. Not yet,” Shea answered.
“Is she mute?”
Shea shook her head. “Chirron didn’t think so. I think she just needs to get comfortable before she opens up.”
Daere’s gaze was pensive as she stared at the girl. To Shea’s surprise, she hadn’t protested Mist’s presence when she’d arrived to speak with Shea about preparations for the upcoming journey. In fact, the woman had seemed all too eager to have the girl join them.
Shea had expected at least some protest, maybe Daere pointing out how it wasn’t seemly for the Warlord’s Telroi to have appropriated an orphan. Again, the other woman had surprised her.
“Have you explained that you’re leaving yet?” Daere asked.
Shea shook her head. That was why they were out here. It wouldn’t be long before Fallon and his men were ready to depart—maybe days. Shea didn’t want to disappear on the little girl, but there was no way she could bring Mist with her into the Highlands. Not when she still didn’t know what they were walking into.
Daere’s expression reflected understanding, and she turned the conversation to other matters. “With her name, I suspect she may have originated from the Rain Clan. Some among our people will give their children names that honor their clans and show solidarity with them.”
Shea nodded. She’d thought that too, but hadn’t wanted to say anything until she had proof. She had to move carefully or risk alienating certain sects of the Trateri even more than she already had.
“She won’t speak of what came before,” Shea said. “It is making things difficult.”
Daere nodded. “I’m sure you’ll track them down. You are nothing if not resourceful.”
Shea raised an eyebrow, amused. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”
Daere met her eyes with a sardonic look of her own. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Mist drifted toward a white ivy. It wasn’t deadly, but it would leave the child uncomfortable and with a nasty rash for a few days.
“Mist, don’t touch that,” Shea said. The little girl jerked her hands back, her shoulders hunching. Her wide, frightened gaze swung to Shea. Everything about the little girl shouted fear, from the crumpled expression to the way she held her body. It made Shea’s chest hurt to see that expression on her face at just four little words.
Daere cursed softly enough that the little girl wouldn’t hear them. She kept her face arranged in a pleasant expression—a feat that Shea envied—as she said words that made even Shea’s ears burn. “When we find the people who hurt this little girl, I am going to enjoy visiting some of the tortures of the afterworld on them.”
Shea couldn’t agree more.
“I’m not mad at you, Mist,” Shea reassured the little girl. She came and knelt beside her and pointed at the cluster of leaves Mist had been about to touch. “See the white veins in the middle and the darker green on the edge.”
The fear didn’t fade from Mist’s eyes even as she looked where Shea was pointing.