“I had friends here. People who were good to me and helped me while out there.” She pointed to the world beyond the village walls. Many of which had gaping holes in them.
“I met some of them,” Reece said. “A man by the name of Dane.”
Both Shea and Witt looked at him with hope.
“I ran into him and a group he was leading out of the Lowlands. He’s the one who told me what had happened. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have even known where to begin searching for you.”
And in so doing, he had signed this place’s death warrant.
“You couldn’t have talked to them first?” Witt asked, stepping towards them. “Gotten the children out at least.”
Reece shook his head. “It was like this when we arrived. After Dane’s story, I let the guild know what had happened and decided to confront the elders on my own. See the extent of the betrayal for myself. By the time we reached this place whatever had done this was long gone.”
Fallon moved beside her. His fierce scowl signified the end of his patience. “I have traveled a very long way and am not in the mood to play games.” He fixed Shea’s father with a flat stare, the kind that intimidated most men. Her father was not most men, however. The corner of his lips twitched as if he was fighting a smile. “You sent your man to find us, and immediately after, we were attacked. A smart man would assume you and your people are a threat. Convince me not to end you and your nephew where you stand.”
Her father stared at Fallon for a moment before throwing his head back and roaring with laughter. “Oh, I like this one, my dear. He’s much better than that other one.”
Fallon gave her father a warrior’s smile, one that bared teeth as the light of battle lit in his eyes. He was enjoying this, Shea realized. Of course, he was. He thrived on combat and challenge, and her father had just proved he was capable of both.
The Trateri around them who had lowered their guard when she identified the man as her father, raised their weapons in threat. Their faces reflected similar expressions of mad triumph as Fallon’s.
“Fallon,” Shea warned in a low voice.
“You cannot have two loyalties in this. You must choose a side,” Fallon said back. “If he is a threat to my men or you, then I will act accordingly.”
Shea struggled with a strong urge to whap Fallon on the back of his head. Maybe that would knock some sense into him and force him to stop saying stupid things.
She loved her father more than words could express. He was her calm port in the storm, the person who picked her up when she fell and gave her the motivation to keep on going when she was convinced she had failed. Despite that, she recognized the ruthless and pragmatic man inside. The one who would burn the world to the ground should anything threaten the things he held dear.
That man would not have come unarmed to this fight. He would not have confronted Fallon without having some type of exit strategy.
Her father watched them with half-lidded eyes. He seemed perfectly content despite the fact there were several arrows pointed at him, in addition to the men who had raised their swords. He was calm and cool and amused by the situation.
No, he had a plan. She just didn’t know how to explain that to Fallon.
“I’m not here to make war on you,” her father told Fallon. “I’m here for my daughter.”
Fallon’s body tensed. “No.”
Her father continued as if he hadn’t spoken. He spread his hands to indicate the village around them. “You’ve seen what is happening. This village is not unique. We’ve lost several others over the past few months, some much bigger than this. The Lowlands are suffering as well. I’ve come to take her to stand trial before her people.”
Shea sucked in a breath. Of all the things she thought he’d say, that had been nowhere on the list. The kernel of hurt that had taken root—after he had failed to stand up for her before her demotion—grew.
She knew he loved her, but she also knew that in many ways, she was a disappointment. Someone who had failed, broken faith, and since meeting Fallon, severely compromised her vows. Yes, he loved her, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t make her pay the price of what he considered justice.
Fallon snarled, the sound angry and brutal in the desolated village. “That will not happen.”
He held one arm out, pushing Shea behind him. She couldn’t take her eyes off her father. She knew she needed to speak up, if only to warn Fallon to be careful that he had something up his sleeve, but she couldn’t. Hurt had stolen her voice.
Family could raise you up, but they could also damage you worse than any force out there. She would rather fight a thousand beasts, lead hundreds of missions for ungrateful, obtuse villagers, than listen to her father once again tell her how she had failed, that she would stand trial.
“Fallon,” she said in soft voice, raising a hand to touch his back. She tried to step around him, to come up to his side, and then had to grit her teeth as he forced her back behind him. She thumped him on the back before stepping out from behind him. She wasn’t the kind of person who would hide, even if it felt like someone had just come up and sucker-punched her.
“It’s not happening,” he told her in a no-nonsense voice. As if by giving her an order, he could make it come true. He turned on her father, “You won’t be taking her.”
Her father studied him, his expression curious even as his eyes were remote as if he calculated a hundred different scenarios. He gave a sharp whistle.
Around them, in the buildings and on top of them, figures moved. They had been well camouflaged before, using the structures to hide their presence.
Fallon again shoved Shea behind him, even as half of his men pivoted to face these strangers, many of whom were clad in clothes designed to blend in with the forest and mountain terrain. The pathfinders held boomers, all trained on Fallon’s men.
Fallon observed them with a sardonic arch to his eyebrow before giving them a mad grin, his teeth on full display and his eyes alight with challenge. “Your men are good. I’ll give you that. My scouts saw no evidence of their presence.”
Shea’s dad watched him with curious eyes.
Fallon’s expression turned crafty, like a wolf when its quarry had just fallen into its trap. “I’ve known your daughter for a while now and have gotten used to the unexpected. I haven’t gotten this far without being prepared.”
He let out a war cry. There was a rustle of sound as men appeared behind the pathfinders, some with knives held at their back, others with arrows nocked and drawn and pointing at Shea’s father’s men.
Shea’s father watched with a slight smile on his face. “You’ll still die,” her father warned.
“We won’t be the only ones. I can promise you that. We number many. Should we fall, there will be those who can replace us. Can you say the same?”
Shea’s father studied him, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Enough,” Shea barked before anyone could do anything stupid and start something that would end in needless bloodshed. “I’ll go with you. There’s no need for any of this.”
“You won’t,” Fallon snapped back. He didn’t budge as she tried to step around him. “That’s final.”