“We’ve gotten by until now. No reason we can’t continue doing so.”
The sound that came from her throat was angry and full of frustration. “And you call me stubborn. Fallon, there are things in this world you don’t understand. What you’ve seen so far is merely a pittance of what waits to be unleashed at the heart of the Badlands. If they’re right and the heart is waking, it will be a second cataclysm. You said the last one drove your people from their homes. These lands were once populated with ten times the people. You could walk from one end of it to the next on great roads. The cataclysm changed all that. It destroyed everything. If there is a chance that it’s happening again, we have to do all in our power to stop it.”
Fallon shook his head. “All the more reason to stay out of it. I don’t know these people and I certainly don’t trust them. For all you know this is a trap. You’ve said before how ruthless they are.”
“It’s a chance I’ll have to take.”
“You’re not going. That’s final.”
“Fallon,” Shea protested to his back.
He shook his head and walked out of the tent before she could say more. Stubborn, stubborn man. This wasn’t over.
Shea followed and was brought up short when Trenton stepped into her path with an apologetic look.
“Get out of my way.”
“I’m sorry, Shea. The Warlord has given orders. You’re to stay in the tent for now.”
Shea’s eyebrows climbed nearly to her hairline, and she stared at him with a shock that quickly turned to fury.
“Oh, did he?”
Trenton drew a deep breath. “Yes, and he’s authorized us to use force if necessary.”
Shea was quiet for a moment, her shock and anger filling her with ugly feelings that wanted to burst out. She couldn’t let them. She needed to retain control.
“And you’d do as he asked?”
His nod was somber even as the look in his eyes were apologetic. “I would.”
Shea looked away. There was a tight feeling behind her eyes and a prickling at the bridge of her nose.
“He is my Warlord,” Trenton said in a soft voice.
She nodded, not saying anything for a long moment. When she’d gotten her emotions under control she looked him in the eye. “And here I thought we were becoming friends.”
There was nothing to say to that. Shea turned and walked back into the tent, not acknowledging the soft apology that followed in her wake.
Back in the tent, she moved quickly through the communal area to the bed chamber. She went directly to a trunk at the foot of the bed, kneeling to open it. The trunk held most of Shea’s things—clothes, odd knick-knacks she’d picked up here and there and wanted to keep, including the green jacket that was part of her scout uniform and a knife she’d stolen when she’d appropriated that jacket.
She plucked the knife out of its scabbard and stood. If Fallon thought he was going to keep her locked up in this tent, he had another thing coming. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d escaped from one of these tents. Admittedly, last time she’d been fleeing because she’d thought her life was in danger, but this worked to.
She walked to the opposite side of the tent and set the knife against the canvas. She hesitated, her arm tensed to push the knife’s point through to the other side. This was the action of a child. One who didn’t get their way and threw a fit to punish everyone around them.
Her arm dropped. It would be so easy to vent her frustration by going on walkabout. So easy to disappear right from under their very noses. To punish Fallon for being an obstinate, stubborn and unreasonable man. That didn’t mean it would be right. Just because you could do something didn’t mean you should.
He was right. He had enemies that would love to take him down through Shea. Despite being in the middle of the encampment, it was still dangerous to be walking around at night. All sorts of beasts, both four legged and two, came out at this time. She was only lightly armed and tired.
Still, she didn’t want Fallon to think he could get away with this kind of behavior. She was his partner. Not his prisoner. It was time he understood that.
She raised her arm and cut into the canvas. It was easier than the last time she’d done this—the knife sharper. She stepped through and looked around, half surprised no one had thought to put guards on the back of the tent given her history.
She shook her head and stepped back into the tent, going over to her bed and laying down. She didn’t need to go anywhere. Her point had been made. Besides, her comfortable bed was right here.
*
“I must say I’m a little surprised you’re still here.” Darius’s voice came from the broken partition. They would have to get that fixed before much longer. Shea was a little surprised it hadn’t been already.
Darius stood a foot inside the personal quarters. He was alone and dressed simply.
Shea sat up. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged and held up a bottle of wine. “I thought you could use the company, considering Fallon is pacing the camp like a wild animal.”
Shea considered him through narrowed eyes. They were not friends. Darius had never gone out of his way to engage her before. When Fallon was gone and had left Darius in charge, she’d barely seen the other man. It made his presence here a tad suspicious.
He looked around and noticed the gaping hole Shea had cut in their tent. “I see I spoke too soon. Did you desire another entrance?”
Shea didn’t answer, giving him a stone-faced stare.
He sighed. “Well, at least you’re still here. That’s something. Why don’t you come out here so we can talk? I doubt Fallon would appreciate my presence in his private chambers with only his Telroi for company.”
“You assume I care what he thinks right now.”
“Of course, you care, or you would have taken the exit that you so diligently made and taken off into the night. Come, I have wine.”
Darius didn’t wait for her response, disappearing into the other room. There were small sounds of movement as he rustled around trying to find glasses.
Shea gave a heavy sigh and got up.
Darius had made himself at home in the short time Shea had taken to follow him. He reclined on one of the pillows that had a chair back attached. He’d nabbed two chalices from the long table and set them next to him on one of the low tables next to his pillow chair.
“Please. Help yourself.” Sarcasm tinged her voice.
He gave her a lazy grin. “I always do.”
Her huff held a note of laughter in it. She took a seat beside him and reclined into the backrest, nabbing the glass of wine. She took a sip and made a surprised expression of pleasure. It was pretty good. Much better than she would have thought. Probably from one of the south-eastern cities. She thought she remembered wine being one of their main exports.
“So. Why are you here?” Shea asked, cutting to the chase.
Darius took a sip and made a pleased expression. “Lowlanders are so different from us. They can’t fight worth shit and they fear their very shadows, but they do make some amazing things, don’t they?”
Shea gave a shrug of agreement. “They do seem to excel at the trades.”
“What about your people? They have anything like this where you come from?”