Mist's Edge (The Broken Lands #2) - T.A. White Page 0,73

Fallon and would have stamina for days.

They made the rest of the journey easily, Van and Chirron not falling back or voicing any complaints, even when their breathing turned slightly labored. It was one of the things Shea liked best about the Trateri. They rarely complained about things that couldn’t be changed. It was a welcome departure from some of the charges she’d led while in the Highland.

CHAPTER TWELVE

SHEA GAVE a full-bodied stretch once they’d stepped onto the last platform, hands above her head, back arched as she lengthened throughout her body. It felt sinfully good after the climb, her muscles stretching pleasantly to counterbalance the strain she’d put on them.

She felt Fallon at her back moments before his hand landed on her stomach. He leaned down, his breath tickling her ear. “What do you do to me?”

She tilted her head back to look at him questioning from upside down. “What do you mean?”

His gaze was searching and filled with dark things as he looked down at her. His eyes did strange things to her stomach as it dipped and flipped. She felt warm stirrings at the heat and intensity he was aiming her way. He sighed heavily, the erotic intensity in his gaze disappearing.

“Now’s not the time,” he murmured. He stepped around her, his hand sliding to her back and ushering her forward.

She blinked at him in confusion, not quite understanding what had just happened. That had come out of nowhere. It made her wish they were closer to their tent and bed, though she knew such a wish was selfish.

Eckbert stood at the head of his people as they waited for them on the other end of the rope bridge that marked the beginning of the village. They would have to cross that bridge one by one to greet the headman and those gathered.

Trenton and Wilhelm stayed at Shea’s side while Fallon debated with his two advisors who should go first. Darius and Caden were in favor of anyone but Fallon being the first across the bridge, pointing out the need for caution since the Airabel, while allies, were still not to be trusted.

“I am not a child in need of protection,” Fallon snapped. “I am perfectly capable of defending myself, having done it long before you formed the Anateri.”

That last comment was aimed at Caden.

“No one is questioning your prowess with a weapon, Fallon. These people are unknown. Let one of us go first to test our footing before you come in,” Darius said, frustration in his voice. “There’s no need to take unnecessary risks.”

“I’ve already met with the headman. If they’d wanted to kill us, they could have done so yesterday morning when there were fewer of us. Sending in a guard first makes us look weak—like we fear them when we don’t. I cannot afford to look weak before them or anyone else.”

Darius looked at Caden for confirmation on the first statement. Caden hesitated before giving a quick nod. A storm began gathering on Darius’s face. “What were you doing up here with so few guards last night? Because I know damn well that Caden and the rest were down below getting some rest.”

Fallon’s jaw ticked as he met Darius’s glare with a fierce one of his own. Shea stood very still not wanting to draw Darius’s wrath. She hadn’t taken into consideration Fallon’s position or the potential danger to him when she’d dragged him up here last night.

Darius didn’t need anyone to confirm who was at fault, his gaze swinging to take in the uncomfortable expression on her face. He swore and shook his head. “You’re going to get him killed.”

“Enough,” Fallon snapped. “I’ve lasted this long without a problem. We were in little danger last night.”

“That was before, Fallon,” Darius snapped back, not cowed by Fallon’s anger. “Before you went and united the clans and pissed off a lot of people. By the gods, Caden tells me you’ve had three assassination attempts in the last week.”

Shea jolted forward. What was this? “What are you talking about?”

Darius’s attention swung to Shea—for a brief moment he looked like a bull about to charge. “Maybe you should have considered that before you dragged him out of the protection of the camp.”

“What are you talking about? What assassination attempts? I thought those were done.”

“Enough, we’re not talking about this anymore.” Fallon’s voice was a cold snap of winter.

“Fallon!” Shea protested.

“No, enough.” He gave her a fierce warning glare, one strong enough to freeze the words on her