Shea’s jaw dropped and she hissed, “How do you know about that?”
Trenton straightened from his position next to them. “Everyone knows about that. It’s the talk of camp.”
Eamon chuckled as Shea’s face turned beet red. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll go easy on you when he wins.”
“You’re so sure he’ll win?” Shea asked with an arched eyebrow.
He shrugged. “Of course. He’s the Warlord.”
“And about ten years older than the rest of the competitors,” Shea said with a challenging expression. She should have known better. It was what had led to the ill-placed bet with Fallon.
“Not everything is about age,” Trenton said, waggling his eyebrows. “Sometimes experience wins the field.”
The crowd roared as Fallon unseated his opponent in a graceful movement at odds in such a big man.
Trenton leaned close. “I think he’s a little more motivated than usual.”
Shea blushed. Her color deepened when Fallon threw her a darkly significant look. Next time she would have to be more careful with her challenges. They always seemed to get her in trouble with this group.
*
Shea moved through the crowds as quickly as the press of bodies would allow. She vibrated with impatience, as she waited for an elderly woman accompanied by a child to move out of her way. She’d stayed later than she should have, watching Fallon compete. He’d won, to the surprise of no one but Shea.
The bet was lost. She owed him a boon. Shea could only imagine what he would request, the tricky warlord. To top it off, she was now late for the event she’d helped plan. The slow-moving crowd didn’t help matters.
A pair of grubby hands tugged at her pant legs. Shea looked down into a pair of bright blue eyes and a gap-toothed smile belonging to a sweet looking girl. One that was wearing a thin, threadbare shirt, and holding a bright yellow flower up to Shea.
“Is that for me, sweetheart?” Shea asked with a smile. It was hard not to be charmed by the little girl.
The urchin child nodded and offered it again.
Shea felt in her pockets, hoping for something to give the child, who looked no more than four or five. Shea hadn’t seen overt signs of poverty among the Trateri. The clans, for all the feuding and infighting they brought, looked after their own. If a child was orphaned, they were absorbed into the clan and provided for. Same when someone lost a partner. She knew of no instances where someone had been turned out, not to say that there weren’t any. This child looked like she hadn’t bathed in weeks, and her clothes looked like they were one strong wind from disintegrating.
“I have nothing to give you,” Shea admitted.
The girl’s face drooped in disappointment, the expression tugging at Shea’s heart. She looked at Trenton for help. Her guard avoided her eyes and scratched his neck. Shea frowned at him. Useless man. Always around when he wasn’t needed, and absolutely worthless when he was.
She looked back at the little girl and held up her wrist. “Do you like my bracelet?”
The girl looked at it and nodded.
“How ‘bout we trade then? My bracelet for the flower.”
The girl gave Shea a gap-toothed grin full of innocence and nodded.
“Shea, that bracelet is valuable,” Trenton said, his expression uneasy.
“All the more reason she should have it. Maybe it’ll bring her good fortune.” Shea pulled the bracelet off and handed it to the little girl. She thanked her when the little girl handed her the flower.
The little girl took the bracelet and petted it. She oohed and awed over it and ran her fingers along the graceful lines, before looking back up at Shea.
“Goodbye, thank you for my flower,” Shea said. She began walking away even as the little girl’s eyes tugged at her heart. She didn’t make it far before a small hand slid into hers and Shea looked down to find the little girl hurrying to keep pace with her little legs.
“No, no, sweetheart. You need to stay here where your mother and father can find you.”
The little girl looked up at Shea and cocked her head, not seeming to understand. Shea looked at Trenton again for help. He looked back at her and shrugged. No help there.
“Mist is alone in this world.” Gala shuffled toward Shea and Trenton, her arms clasped behind her back. “From what I understand, she has been mute since her parents died. There is no one for her to wait for.”
“Elder Gala.” Shea inclined her head to the other woman.
The girl child, Mist, let go of Shea’s hand and ran to Gala. She danced around in front of her while holding up the bracelet for the other woman to see.
Gala bent down and made the appropriate sounds of appreciation. “That’s a fine bracelet you have there.” Gala looked up at Shea. “One would even say the giver was very generous.”
Shea looked away and gave a shrug.
Gala stood up and observed Shea with canny eyes. The kind that saw right through a person down to their very core. Shea had never been very fond of people who could do that. There were too many things she wanted to keep to herself, keep hidden.
“I’ve got to get going. My event starts soon,” Shea said, giving an excuse for her hurry that also happened to be true.
“Yes, you and the other two responsible for the beast board are in charge of the hunt, if I recall.”
“That is right.” Shea didn’t ask how Gala knew. The other woman struck Shea as the sort to know everything about everyone around her.
“That is an unusual honor to be given to a group so young and untested.”
So Shea had gathered. It made her wonder just why her little team had been chosen.
“I will walk with you as far as your staging area,” Gala said. Before Shea could protest, she looked down at Mist. “Shall we?”
The little girl nodded enthusiastically before looking at Shea with bright, excited eyes. Shea didn’t have it in her to deny that face.
She mustered an uneasy smile for the two, then turned and set off, keeping her pace slow so her companions could keep up. Mist rambled in front of them as Gala walked with a measured pace beside Shea.
“You have not attended the last two sharies,” Gala observed.
A sharie was a meeting attended by many of the elders in the clans. Usually each clan held their own sharie every month. She’d made it a point to be busy doing something else the last few times one had been called.
“Yes, I’ve been very busy of late with the Hawkvale’s return and planning for this event.”
Gala gave her a sideways look that said she knew exactly how much of an excuse that was. “When I was your age, I also found it difficult to attend the sharie as well. So many people looking to me for answers when I had none.”
Shea felt a tinge of surprise. “I thought most who attended were elders.”
That was what she had seen. She was the youngest by several decades in those gatherings.
Gala made a sound of agreement. “I was like you, the Telroi to a powerful man. Do you know the purpose of a sharie?”
Shea thought a moment. “To share your grievances in a neutral setting.”
“That is one purpose. The other is to have our grievances heard by our leaders.”
“How is that? I’ve never seen the Hawkvale attend one.”