Eamon, Phillip and Buck were huddled at the farthest end of a table. Shea headed straight for them, feeling relieved to see familiar faces. Buck and Eamon tried to keep the excitement they felt under wraps. Phillip was his normal indecipherable self.
“Where have you been?” Eamon asked as soon as she arrived.
She opened her mouth to answer but was cut off by Trenton. “He tried to leave on another mission.”
“What?” Both Eamon and Buck looked at her like she had grown three heads.
She tried to speak but didn’t get even a word out.
“What were you thinking?” Eamon asked.
“We just got back.” Buck’s words ran over Eamon’s. “Aren’t you the least bit tired?”
“Never mind.” Buck waved away her response. “I’m being made a scout master. I’m getting my own team.”
Shea couldn’t believe her ears. The assignment of scout master was very competitive. Not every scout got the chance. Only the best
“That’s great.” She didn’t have to fake the enthusiasm in her voice. It was great. Buck deserved it.
He grinned at her. “Not as great as this guy’s news. Tell her.”
She looked expectantly at Eamon whose grin nearly split his face.
“They’re promoting me to the Western Wind Scout Division Commander.”
She blinked twice, not quite believing she’d heard right. There were only five Scout Division Commanders in the Trateri army. One for each of the military elements. It wasn’t just a promotion, it was an elevation in rank and status.
He’d have complete control in the way the scout units in his division were run. He’d be responsible for assigning units to missions, their training, everything.
“I don’t believe it,” she finally said.
“I know,” he told her. “I didn’t either, but the Hawkvale himself gave me the appointment. It’s as good as done.”
An awkward silence fell as they waited for her excitement.
The smile she gave this time was slightly strained, but she meant it when she said, “Congratulations. There’s no one who could do a better job than you.”
He gave her another smile which she returned.
She looked at Phillip, expecting him to tell her what he’d gotten.
He looked a little ill at ease as he said, “I’d prefer to keep what I received to myself for now.”
She nodded. She understood. Maybe he was like her and would have rather returned his ‘gift.’
“What about you?” Buck asked.
“What do you mean?”
“We all got something. What did you get?”
Another silence fell as Shea wrestled with what to tell them. For some reason, she was unwilling to share her draft into Hawkvale’s personal guard.
“He’ll be one of Hawkvale’s warriors,” Trenton spoke up behind her.
A silence fell as she found herself scrutinized by Eamon and Buck. She gave Trenton a dirty look. He stared back at her unfazed.
“I’ll be damned,” Buck nearly whispered.
“I didn’t think it was possible for someone who wasn’t Trateri to become an Anateri Warrior,” Eamon said.
“Hawkvale is making an exception in Shane’s case.” To Shea, he said, “You’re the only one of your team the Hawkvale hasn’t spoken to yet, and he wants that done before the meal so you need to come with me.”
Every muscle on Shea’s body locked, and she took a deep breath. She nodded and followed Trenton into the walled off portion of the tent. She braced herself as she stepped through, feeling the fabric drop behind her, cutting her off from the rest of the gathering.
The other side surprised her, and she stopped mid step. She looked around wide eyed. The Trateri’s ability to adapt their surroundings to their specific taste and preference always impressed her. They had a way of taking what should have been a humble lifestyle and inserting into it a grandeur and elegance not often found in the Broken Lands.
Fallon Hawkvale’s chambers embraced this concept so well that it was difficult to believe this space existed in a simple tent that could be packed up and moved on a weekly basis.
Tapestries alive with intricate embroidery were stretched across ornately carved wooden frames, giving the room the impression of painted walls. The sloped canopy of the ceiling had several fabric panels cut out to allow air flow to keep the space cool and fresh. In the possibility of rain or cold weather, each ‘window’ had fabric that could be rolled over it to attach to the sides.
There wasn’t just one large rug on the ground but several, each piled one on top of the other so when a person walked across it their feet sank into the plush fabric. It was soft and thick under Shea’s shoes, leaving no impression of the uneven ground below. No bumps from rocks or clods of dirt marred the geometric designs and vivid colors.
The edge of one had the distinctive pattern of a Lowland city known for their weavings. No doubt many of these were the spoils of war.
That thought helped break Shea’s surprise and led her to recognize other familiar objects, such as the gleaming black wood on the chest at the foot of Hawkvale’s low bed. Shea knew of only one place that made furniture with wood that black.
Having noticed the chest, she found herself cataloging the bed and its comfortable nest of furs and blankets before finding her gaze inexplicably drawn to the figure sitting at the side of the bed.
Shea came to attention, assuming that was what a Trateri would do in this situation.
She examined this man who had caused such an upheaval in her life and the lives of thousands of others.
He looked tired. It wasn’t much, but something in his posture suggested he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. That same exhaustion was present behind his eyes and in the tightness of the skin around them.
In all honesty, she was surprised he was awake. The spinner hallucinogenic tended to linger for days. There was no way his system had gotten rid of all of it. The fact he was upright and alert was a testament to the fierce determination and stubborn drive of this man.
What would it be like to have both of those traits focused on a single person?
Terrifying? Or would it make them feel like they were the only thing that mattered in a world where very little mattered?
Shea dismissed these idle thoughts. She would never have cause to find out.
Fallon’s perusal of her was much more direct. It felt as if his whiskey colored eyes were peeling back her secrets one by one. Something she could not afford.
The taut silence lasted as he looked his fill. She pretended to examine the embroidered panel directly across from her.
“I’m told you’re the reason I’m still alive.” Fallon’s gravelly voice scrapped across Shea’s nerves.
When he fell silent again she realized with a start he was waiting for an answer. Finding her voice was difficult with the full force of his attention focused solely on her.
“That’s not entirely true.”
Fallon’s lips quirked in a semi smile. “So you weren’t the one who figured out my men were looking in the wrong place?”
“I did do that,” Shea admitted. Caden and Darius already knew that much.
“Were you not the one who decided what the most likely routes I might have taken were?”