Mist's Edge (The Broken Lands #2)

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.”

This time she did slap him on the back of his head, dodging out of his arms to stand glaring at him a few feet away.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” she snarled. “You ask nicely, and if I feel like it, I’ll listen.”

Fallon glared at her, his whiskey eyes molten with anger. They spent a long moment locked in a stare down, before her father chuckled.

“Just like her mother. Never could get that woman to do anything she didn’t want to.” He whistled again, and the pathfinders lowered their weapons. Fallon waited a beat before giving his men the same signal. They stepped back, but kept their weapons at the ready.

“You’re not taking her,” Fallon told her father.

He studied Fallon with a thoughtful look. Shea waited as the two men took each other’s measure. This wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined introducing Fallon to one of her parents. Though to be fair, she had thought she’d never get the chance.

“Very well, then you will promise to fix this little problem we’re having.” He looked at Shea. “You went where you weren’t supposed to go and woke something that never should have been woken. One way or another, you must take responsibility.”

Shea’s lips tightened. “I told you we never made it past the second marker. This is not the result of our expedition.”

He shook his head. “Maybe so, but you also told me that you lost a week that you can’t remember. You could very well have strayed further than you thought. Either way, it doesn’t matter. The elders are looking for someone to blame and you’re the only one who survived. Either you face trial, or lover boy helps end this threat with that army of his.”

“His army isn’t at your beck and call,” Shea argued.

Her father shrugged. “Your alternative is trying to fight your way out of here. Don’t think you’ll get far though, and a lot of people on both sides will die.”

Fallon didn’t look away from him. He knew the destructive power of the boomers. Had even seen them in action a time or two. He didn’t need to be told who had the advantage.

“We die or fail to make it back and my men have orders to drench the Highlands in blood. They will destroy any city or village they come across. You won’t need to fear the beasts then,” Fallon said in an idle voice.

Shea fought the urge to scream. Both men were being ridiculous.

“Fine, I’ll sweeten the pot,” her father said. “You come to the Keep with me and hear what we have to say. You do that, and we’ll give you the Highlands with our blessing.”

Shea’s jaw dropped. She closed it with a snap. What was he saying?

“We’ll even throw in enough boomers and other weapons we have in store to supply a good bit of your army.”

Shea sucked in a shocked breath. This was unheard of. Even admitting how many of the boomers they had was shocking. Generations of secrecy and protecting what they hid, and her father had essentially just told Fallon where he could find a huge stockpile of weapons that would make him invincible.

A chill rushed over her. How bad were things that the pathfinders were willing to resort to this?

Fallon cocked his head. He looked interested. Shea knew he’d always planned to conquer the Highlands, and here was her father offering them to him on a silver platter.

“Shea will be free of any repercussions?”

Her father nodded. “I give you my word.”

“My men will come with me.”

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