Mist's Edge (The Broken Lands #2) - T.A. White Page 0,51

business over the past few months to slip away from her guards whenever possible. Good thing Fallon hadn’t been around to hear about that. She could only hope Trenton and Wilhelm kept silent. What Fallon didn’t know wouldn’t cause Shea problems.

By the significant glance Caden shot her way, she had a feeling either Trenton or Wilhelm—she was willing to bet Trenton, since he rejoiced at getting her in trouble—had spilled the beans.

“How unusual. She should be trained so she’s not so defenseless,” Braden said.

Shea gave him a look, but kept her own council. He seemed determined to twist everything. Why not let him?

“You are wrong,” Daere said, striding up to them. “The Warlord holds Shea and her skills in the highest esteem. He simply wishes to ensure she is protected from every eventuality, including being overwhelmed by surprise or greater numbers.”

Braden gave Daere a reserved nod, the gesture almost a half bow. Shea looked between the two with unease. The tension between them was already thick enough to cut.

Trenton and Wilhelm joined the group moments later, coming from the same direction as Daere. For once, Shea was happy to see them.

“Now that we’re all here, shall we go?” she asked Braden.

His answer was a sharp nod before he turned and stalked off, his strides long and purposeful. Being a Trateri, he’d probably grown up in one of these camps, so he understood the chaotic organization better than Shea did. The first few times the camp had moved, it had taken her a few days to relearn where everything was. After that, she began to find the pattern in its set-up and got lost less and less frequently.

Braden walked with his hands clasped behind his back, Shea an uncomfortable presence by his side. Away from Fallon, he did not seem inclined to talk. Since Shea had never been one for idle chatter, it meant they traveled in silence.

Shea glanced behind them to see Daere looking lost in thought, content with keeping her own council. It was a trick Shea wished she had known months ago. Wilhelm and Trenton were behind her, their faces carefully blank—the perfect expression for a guard. None of them looked like they would be willing to help Shea out.

She looked at Braden’s profile before glancing forward again. Was this one of those times that she was expected to say something? Enforce that horrible social behavior called small talk? What would she even talk about? The weather?

No. Better to be quiet. You couldn’t put your foot in your mouth if you never said anything to begin with. Besides, who was she trying to impress? Braden? He’d already made it clear he didn’t think much of her skills.

They passed several minutes in silence as they maneuvered through the bustling pathways of the tent city to the eastern side of camp where the Wind Division and Clark’s beast board was located.

Normally, when there was space and not giant trees interfering with the camp’s layout, Fallon and his closest advisors’ tents were located at the center. They were the hub around which everything else revolved. From there, the camp was split into sections, like little pieces of a pie. The higher-ups in the different division and clans were located closer to the center ring. The further out, the less rank and status you were likely to have. On the outermost edge was where the training fields and horse corrals were located.

The beast board was near that outer edge so scouts could drop off their latest intelligence and pick up any new pieces of information on their way out of camp.

The Wind Division was mostly made up of Horse clan. They had some of the best scouts in Shea’s opinion, in no small part because of the changes Eamon had implemented when Fallon promoted him. He’d made a policy requiring returning scouts to visit the board before being released from duty.

They were nearing the edge when a familiar face ducked out of a tent, an engaging grin already forming. Clark was young. About seventeen or eighteen and just growing out of his baby face. His wide brown eyes were entirely too trusting for a scout, but Shea knew he had a core of unexpected strength. He was an orphan and had adopted many of the scouts as his family, including Shea. The feeling was mutual, as she saw him almost as the little brother she’d never had.

He’d been the first to take her little journal and turn it into this amazing, life-saving