Mist's Edge (The Broken Lands #2) - T.A. White Page 0,158

face that he distrusted the buildings around them, probably only slightly more than he did the men following them. He and Fallon had decided that the clan leaders would ride with them. That way they could keep an eye on their potential saboteurs.

Shea had been on edge for the entire ride, watching for the slightest sign an attack was imminent. So far, the clan leaders seemed perfectly normal if a little tense, but that could be attributed to the current surroundings.

A scrap of cloth hanging from a stray post caught Shea’s attention. It was located behind two buildings and only visible because she passed by what could have been an alley between them in some long distant past. She pulled on her reins, forcing the horse to step in a tight circle.

Trenton slowed his horse, his face a grimace of pain as his ribs protested. Chirron might have kept him alive, but he had several broken ribs that reminded him every time he moved of how close a call he’d had of it.

“What is it?” he asked.

She didn’t answer. She stood in her stirrups to get a better look. That jacket was a familiar green. It was one she might have worn once upon a time. Clark had been wearing his as protection against the chill of the caverns when he’d gone missing.

Her first reaction was to rush for the jacket as if it might tell her where he’d gone, if she could just reach it. She quelled that urge, knowing that it could be a trap. Probably was a trap.

It seemed too simple for his jacket to turn up here—miles away from where he’d disappeared.

“I see something,” she said.

Trenton’s head snapped around, looking in the direction that seemed to draw her attention. He was quiet as he searched. It didn’t take him long to spot the jacket.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he cautioned before giving a sharp whistle.

Fallon and the Anateri came to a stop. Fallon looked back. Noticing Shea and Trenton, he urged his horse toward them.

“What is it?” His words were sharp and abrupt, but Shea didn’t take it personally. He was on alert like all of them. This was the Warlord speaking, someone expecting a report.

Shea tilted her head to the jacket.

His sharp eyes fastened on it and he frowned. He’d seen the same thing she had. Such a nice present. It was practically wrapped with a bow.

Eamon rode up on her other side, his gaze already fastened on what held her attention. He let out a low curse when he caught sight of the jacket.

“What are your orders?” Trenton asked.

Fallon was silent for a long moment, his body tense.

Shea urged her horse forward, bypassing the alley between the buildings to ride around front.

“Shea!” Fallon called.

She ignored him. The building to her right held her entire attention. Movement in one of the windows high above had her hands tightening on the reins. They were being watched. Definitely a trap. The question was who had set the trap? And why?

She steered her horse to give the building a wide berth as she made a circle around it and the abandoned jacket. She had no intention of getting close, but they needed more information before they made any decision. The only way to do that was to do a little reconnaissance—something Fallon would have ordered had she not been here.

Men. They could be so smart sometimes but also dumb.

Shea was careful to keep her distance from the jacket and any nearby buildings when she was on the opposite side of it; Fallon watched her with a darkly intense look as she stopped and observed. It was quiet on this side of the square.

Fallon and a few of his men had stayed on the other side. No doubt he’d stopped anyone from following her for fear they would set off any traps that she might have bypassed. Again, smart man.

She glanced back up into the building. There was no movement that she could see from this side. She looked back at the jacket. It was nailed to a stone post. There was no wind down here, so it was utterly still, just hanging there.

The ominous air of the abandoned city lay all around her. The weight of fear and tension seemed to press in on her, ratcheting up her adrenaline. She took a deep breath, not letting the need for action lead her to a rash impulse.

A cool breeze stirred her hair, lifting it from her neck as it swirled