Mist's Edge (The Broken Lands #2) - T.A. White Page 0,74

tongue. His gaze moved slightly to the side. She snapped her mouth close. Van and Chirron watched the proceedings with a fascination that made her feel dirty, like she’d done something wrong.

She gave Fallon a nod, saying she understood. The warning look she gave him said that this would be one more thing they talked about later.

“Caden should go first,” Shea blurted.

Caden and Darius looked at her in surprise.

“He’s the captain of your Anateri. It makes sense that he would proceed you. They’ll see it as an honor, not as an insult,” she said in belated explanation.

Fallon didn’t look happy as he watched her. Her eyes went everywhere but his as she waited for a rebuke or to have her suggestion overridden. If he pushed her suggestion aside, he’d be undercutting her in front of potential enemies and hinder any progress she’d made. The expression on his face said he knew it too and wasn’t happy about it.

He jerked his chin down once in a nod that still managed to be an order.

Caden gave her a considering glance before he took off, tilting his head down in an almost bow before he strode across the rope bridge. It swayed under his feet.

Fallon waited beside her in a thunderous silence as they watched Caden greet the headman. It was only a few moments before he gave the signal for Fallon and the rest of them to approach.

Fallon went first. Then it was Shea’s and her guards’ turn. She took a deep breath before following Fallon’s broad back. She looked past him to where Caden and the villagers waited, decked out in their best finery, much as the Trateri were. The generals followed her, then the clan heads, and Daere. Witt and the rest of the guards brought up the rear.

Eckbert stepped forward and gestured, several women breaking from the crowd to step forward with necklaces of brightly colored flowers.

“Welcome, friends. Welcome,” Eckbert said giving them a wide grin.

Shea ducked her head and accepted the flower necklace with a smile, murmuring a thank-you to the young girl who’d placed it around her neck.

“What’s this?” Chirron asked, picking up the braided flowers and examining them closely.

“It’s tradition for the village to greet their guests with the mbel. It’s a sign of their esteem.”

“I wonder if these have any medicinal properties,” he muttered, rubbing a petal between his thumb and forefinger.

Shea’s mouth opened and then closed. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask one of the villagers. They’re familiar with the flora around here and could tell you more about its properties.” She thought a moment then volunteered, “I do know that the bark of the soul tree when brewed at a high temperature can calm a cough.”

She had personal experience with that treatment having had to sit through a few cups after she’d contracted a particularly nasty cough while visiting the area previously.

Chirron’s eyes brightened as he looked at the tree trunk. “I wonder what temperature the water needs to be to achieve the best results, or if the treatment could be replicated in a paste.”

Shea shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. I’m sure Eckbert will be more than happy to introduce you to their healer.”

“I’d greatly appreciate that,” Chirron said. The expression he bestowed on her was full of eager anticipation.

“Careful, Chirron. Your tendency to lose yourself in inconsequential things has begun to show again,” Van said, clapping the other man on the shoulder.

Unlike the rest of them, he was not wearing one of the mbel. Shea looked back at the girl who had been the one to approach him. She was staring at the ground as several other women gathered around her and talked in hushed voices while shooting quick glances in Van’s direction.

“A new method to treat a cough or fever is never inconsequential, Lion.” The earlier anticipation in Chirron’s gaze had disappeared, leaving him with a calm expression that bordered on serene patience.

“I’ll be honest; I’m more interested in what kind of warriors they can contribute to our armies. You can treat as many coughs as you like; it’ll never win us the war.” Van’s gaze was assessing as he took in those who had gathered to welcome them to Airabel. “Though from the sight of this lot, I’m willing to bet the pickings will be slim.”

Chirron’s eyes narrowed just slightly, but he didn’t react in any other manner.

“I imagine a treatment for the fever one gets from an infected battle wound would be worth its weight in gold, if