Mist's Edge (The Broken Lands #2)

Shea couldn’t help feeling like she had failed these people. It didn’t matter that they had failed her first. Maybe if she’d tried harder, been better, less argumentative, maybe things might have turned out different.

Reece stepped into the village square as Shea stared around her with a stunned numbness. She bent and picked up a child’s toy, one of those mallets you were supposed to catch the ball on. The ball was missing and the handle half broken.

“Why did you bring us here?” Fallon asked Reece.

“So you could see.”

“See what?” he asked.

“What you’re up against. The consequences if you should fail.”

“We haven’t even agreed to help you,” Caden said. He’d wandered close to one of the buildings and was examining it.

“Or even know what you want,” Buck muttered.

“There were children here, Reece. Innocent of whatever mistakes their parents might have committed.” Shea rubbed her thumb against the wood of the mallet.

His face was placid but not unsympathetic. He offered her no answer.

“You know the rules, baby girl. Sometimes you have to cut the rot from the tree, so the rest of it can survive.” A man unfolded himself from where he’d been sitting in the shadows and stepped forward, meeting Shea’s eyes. He was tall, taller than Fallon, and had crow’s feet at the corner of each eye. Laughter had cut grooves around his eyes and mouth over the years. His skin was paler than you would imagine of a man who spent the majority of his life outside.

He stared at Shea for a long moment, ignoring the weapons aimed his way. His eyes cataloged each feature, noting the grief that showed in the dark circles under her eyes and the tired slump of her shoulders. He took in all those details as if he’d come across this rare specimen, one that might disappear if he didn’t memorize everything.

After an eternity of staring at each other, he gave her a half-smile. “Hello, daughter. I’ve missed you.”

Shea took a deep breath but was unable to summon an answering smile. “Hello, father.”

He lifted an eyebrow even as amusement touched his lips. “That’s it? After all these months, that’s all you have to say?” He turned to Fallon and the rest. “All this time her mother and I feared she was dead. We worried; we agonized. I even sent your cousin to hunt down those who might have harmed you.”

Shea watched him with a careful gaze. “How long before anyone noticed I was gone?”

Some of the affableness drained out of his expression as he fixed her with a look and sighed, as if to say he was disappointed in her question. She gave him a stubborn look in return.

“Eight months.”

“So, not that worried.”

She’d figured as much. She was the black sheep. The golden child turned disappointment. The first couple roll calls she’d missed, they’d probably ascribed to her sulking. After that, they must have decided she was simply too busy, or maybe they had more pressing matters to attend to. A stray pathfinder wasn’t that odd.

“That’s hardly nice,” her father rebuked.

She waved a hand at the decimated village around them. “Neither is this.”

Her father nodded, taking in their surroundings with a careful eye. “No, I imagine not.”

Shea spotted Witt over her father’s shoulder. His face was carefully guarded as he took in the village. If she was this upset over the destruction, she couldn’t imagine how he was feeling. He’d already made clear his distaste for the pathfinder method of punishing those who opposed them.

“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.”

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