by T. A. White
His eyes were watchful as she turned and paced along the edges of the room. He let her take the lead, content to watch from the middle of the room as she checked for drafts that might be a sign of a hidden passage. She held her hand up to the stone, moving carefully along the edge, watching for gaps or holes.
This place was old. Like the kill holes from before, it contained many defenses, not all of them so readily apparent. The walls were riddled with secret passages and spy holes. She’d explored more than a few of them as a child. Some were known by all in the Keep. Others, she’d discovered on her own or with her cousin at her side. She greatly suspected there were still more that only a very select few knew about.
She paused as cold air hit her hand, making a mental note of the placement. It could just be this old place settling. It wasn’t exactly air tight, and the draft could be from a crack in the mortar. Still, it paid to be careful.
“You think so little of me,” he said, noticing where she’d stopped. He dipped his chin down and gave her a sinful smile that would fool anyone who might be watching from a spy hole. “I doubt anything your people can throw at me will be worse than some of the all-clan banquets I’ve had to sit through.”
Shea smirked and continued. “Worse than a sharie?”
She’d never sat through an all-clan before, but she had been forced to listen during the sharies. Sharies were basically town hall meetings where the elders of each clan aired their grievances and tried to come up with solutions. They were long, boring affairs that usually ended with Shea wanting to tear her hair out.
“During those, you rarely have to worry about knives in your back or people coming to blows,” he complained.
“Here, you can expect to wage war with words. If they come at you, it’ll be under the cover of dark while your attention is focused elsewhere,” Shea said with a crooked, humorless grin. “I’d take your all-clans over what we’re about to do any day.”
“Would you care to place a wager on it?” Fallon asked with a taunting smile.
Shea paused and shot him a glare. Last time she’d wagered against him, she’d lost. She wasn’t sure she wished to embark on another bet so soon.
She finished the circuit and met him in the middle of the room. Before she could figure out how to tell him what she suspected without any potential watchers overhearing, he picked her up in an effortless move and tossed her on the bed.
Before she could do much more than let out an undignified squawk, he landed next to her, trapping her with his leg. He grinned down at her, his gaze playful as he twined one hand with hers.
Well, this was one way to ensure they weren’t overheard with no one the wiser. Given how close they were, they could have an entire conversation in whispers with no one suspecting they were doing anything other than canoodling. You could plan an entire war this way as long as you weren’t shy.
One hand slipped under her shirt and skated across the soft, sensitive skin along her waist. She wiggled, a delicious feeling stealing through her body at his soft touch.
“There are at least three spy holes,” she said in a soft voice as she nuzzled Fallon’s neck. Her breath caught as he touched an extra-sensitive spot.
He turned his face into hers and breathed against her lips. To any onlookers, it would look like they were sharing a passionate kiss. In reality, he whispered a question. “Where?”
She slid one leg around his hip and wiggled against him experimentally, feeling a wicked charge as he hardened against her. “One’s in the first spot I stopped; the second is behind the tapestry on the wall. The last is near the floor a few feet to the right of the fireplace.”
He pressed her hard against him, his thigh creating a delicious pressure against her core. She bit down the instinctive groan at the sensation, then failed to keep it contained when he bent his head and nibbled along the tendon between her neck and shoulder.
She pinched his side hard in retaliation. He knew what that spot did to her.
She lifted up, nipping along his chin, her eyes never leaving his. They were locked in a battle of wills, neither one willing to lose. Every sensation was heightened, made more decadent, as temperatures rose and need built under her skin—a need they had no hope of alleviating with the possibility of unfriendly eyes and ears directed their way.
“Minx,” Fallon said through gritted teeth as she teased him.
Her smile widened, moving against his skin. “Takes one to know one.”
He grunted as she hit a sensitive spot and buried his face against her neck. “Anything else?”
She nodded, a slight movement that brushed the stubble from his day-old beard against the soft skin of her cheek. “Yes, there’s probably at least one hidden entrance in this room.”
He stilled against her. “Are you sure?”
“Almost positive.”
He uttered a soft curse. It was a sentiment Shea shared.
He sighed and pressed his forehead against hers. “Neither one of us is going to get much sleep tonight.”
“We could always have a few of your men stay in here with us,” she told him.
He shook his head, the movement almost undetectable. “That’ll give up our advantage.”
Battle was as much about communication as anything. If you could control the information your enemy had, or twist it to your advantage, you had a greater chance of coming out victorious.
Knowing there were potential watchers meant they could control what their spies learned. They could give out disinformation, forcing their spies to act in such a way that benefited them.
Shea relaxed back into the bed. Fallon was right. Sleep was going to be very scarce over the next few days if one of them had to be constantly on guard against anybody taking advantage of the hidden entrance to carry out an assassination.
He dropped a light kiss on her lips in apology and rolled away, leaving her to frown grumpily at the ceiling. If there was one thing she prized above all else, it was sleep—especially given the lack of it lately.
She propped herself up on her elbows, watching Fallon move purposely through the room. With a sigh, she sat up and scooted to the end of the bed. Might as well get cleaned up while they had time. Showing up at the evening meal wearing the dirt and sweat accumulated over several weeks on the trail, would not go over well. Dane hadn’t been kidding when he said their hosts were sticklers for punctuality, especially in guests.
“What can we expect tonight?” Fallon asked as she climbed off the bed.
She walked over to a small screen that had been set up to shield the bathing chamber from the rest of the room. It would offer some privacy. She scanned the walls for any indication of spy holes and checked her sightlines to make sure none of the spots she’d noted would get a good look at the bathing area.
She raised her voice as she turned on the faucet, checking the water temperature with the back of one hand as the tub began to fill. “We’ll be watched and tested. We’ll have to go lightly armed; swords and the like aren’t permitted in the banquet hall.”
Fallon came over to lean against the stone wall, watching Shea’s actions with fascination as she threw a scented ball into the water. It hit the liquid and started to fizz, releasing a lavender scent that rose with the steam.
“Running water?” he asked.
She nodded. “The entire Keep is set up for it. It’s a remnant of the time before.”
It was also one of the few places she knew of with the luxury. There was also a city far to the north that had running water in all its old buildings, but it was the only other one she knew of.
“Where do they get the water?” he asked, his forehead wrinkled as he aimed a thoughtful look at the tub.
“Several places.” Shea whipped her shirt over her head and placed her hands on the waistband of her pants. “There are aqueducts that feed the Keep with snow melt and mountain springs. There are also cisterns located on top of the Keep and a spring deep below it.�
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“So, if the aqueducts are ever destroyed, they still have enough water to survive in times of siege.” Fallon sounded impressed. As a conqueror, he could appreciate the time and thought put into making sure the residents of the Keep could survive in the event anyone ever laid siege to them, even as he considered how he might break the back of such a place.
Shea nodded as she finished disrobing, standing in nothing but her breast band and a thin piece of underwear. The look on Fallon’s face changed from the warlord bent on domination to that of a man looking at conquering his woman.
A familiar heat entered his eyes. One that was echoed in Shea. It always startled her, this need. So strange to know that there was another person out there who was almost as vital to her as breathing.
“Can they see us here?” he asked softly.
She checked again and shook her head, her skin flushed with anticipation.
Before he could do more than take a single step toward her, a knock on the door sounded. His face tightened even as his body tensed, a visible struggle taking place.
“Go, it’s probably your people,” Shea said in a soft voice. There were plans to be made and plots to be hatched. This could wait. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He sighed, his exhale gruff as he reached out to run a rough touch down her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. Shea shivered at the sensation.
His expression still showing that raging battle, he stepped back and stalked toward the door. Shea’s lips tilted up in a smile as she reached out and twitched the screen closed, veiling her from view of the rest of the room. It wouldn’t do much to hide the sound, but it would have to do. As someone used to the lack of privacy on the trail, this was much better than some of the bird baths she’d resorted to where she was constantly on guard against interruptions.
Shea stepped into the steaming water, containing her hiss at the luxurious warmth. She sank into it with a grateful sigh, letting the heat and lavender ease muscles that ached from the abuse she’d put them through over the journey. Resting her head against the back of the tub, she relaxed and listened to the conversation taking place on the other side of the screen.
Irritated, but resigned to the interruption, Fallon yanked the door open, using it to shield his body even as he reached for the dagger he kept on his person at all times. Seeing Caden and several other of his men, he sheathed the dagger and stepped aside to let them into his room.
Caden noted the action, a gleam of approval in his eyes. As the leader of Fallon’s Anateri, he took Fallon’s personal protection very seriously.
“Your Anateri are settled in the rooms closest to you,” Caden said as he prowled inside, his eyes noting the dimensions of the room and cataloging them for future reference. “But it would still be best if you allowed a couple to stay in here with you.”
Fallon watched as his first Anateri stalked along the edges of the room, much as Shea had, checking for secret passages and spy bolt holes. He noted with satisfaction as Caden caught all of the ones Shea had.
“That is not possible,” Fallon said after a long pause.
He’d considered the option but discarded it. For one, it would mean admitting fear and weakness in front of their enemy—something he would like to avoid. These pathfinders struck him as every bit as prideful and observant as his own people. In the Trateri ranks, an admission of weakness was an invitation for someone to test your skills. He doubted Shea’s people were any different.
These were not soft Lowlanders, used to an easy life. They’d been honed, hardened, and made tough by the unique challenges of their environment. They were like the hard-backed lizards of his homeland. The meat was tough to get to because of the difficulty in penetrating its armor. Yet hidden inside that difficult shell was the most succulent of delicacies.
Braden’s eyes were sharp as he filed in after Caden. He was content to let Fallon’s Anateri do their jobs, watching as they swarmed through the room.
“If you value your life, you will not touch that screen,” Fallon warned in a lazy voice when one of his men got too close to Shea’s bathing area.
The man nodded and stepped away. Fallon was glad. He didn’t relish the thought of coming to blows with one of his men over their stupidity.
Before Braden could say anything else, Fallon gave him the signal that said they had possible watchers present. Braden’s blink was slow as he acknowledged that he’d seen the slight movement of Fallon’s hands.
Caden circled back to the other two, looking vexed. The lack of security and his inability to adequately protect Fallon would be driving the other man crazy.
“The Lion Clan and Ember Clan leaders have elected to stay with their men,” Braden informed Fallon, his voice as low as he could make it without tipping off any spies that they were onto them.
“That leaves Rain and the healer, Chirron, in a room,” Fallon said, his thoughts already turning to strategy. They’d done better than he could have hoped for. The division of their leadership would mean they were better equipped if someone decided to attack either group.
Braden’s nod was grave. “I’ve also taken a room and slipped some of my men into the rooms surrounding us.”
“It looks like we’re the only ones in this wing,” Caden said. “I had my men scout and none of the other rooms on this floor or the floor beneath us are filled.”
Which meant that the separation was on purpose. Somehow Fallon wasn’t surprised.
Braden frowned, his face thoughtful. “We could move our men into the rooms.”
Fallon shook his head. “No, let’s see what they’re planning first. Of the two options, I’d rather move everyone into the great hall. The rooms leave us too spread out, and given the special situation with them, I’d rather not have my people so exposed.” He tilted his head meaningfully at the walls.
Braden nodded, his face grave. He agreed with Fallon, otherwise he would have mounted an argument.
“I’ll be glad when we can be on our way,” Caden remarked, looking around the room with a dour expression.
“Aye, this place is strange. Like the land itself wants us gone,” Braden said.
Fallon had noticed it too. It was like the weight of eyes followed them everywhere, as if even the hills and rocks noticed their passing.
Fallon greatly suspected everything they’d seen so far was just a precursor of what was to come.
He had a feeling whatever was barreling down on them could sweep up all the Broken Lands in its wake, finishing what the cataclysm had started. Only this time, there would be no broken groups of survivors left to carry on.
“We’ll do what needs doing,” Fallon said, his voice steady as he looked each of his people in the eye.
There were grunts of agreement.
“Do you think the men we sent back will make it?” Martin, one of Fallon’s Anateri asked.
It was a good question—one they had no hope of knowing the answer to. They’d done all they could to ensure Buck and the others’ success. It was up to them now. Only time would tell whether they made it or not.
For now, it meant Fallon and those he’d brought with him were on their own. They walked a tightrope where a single mistake could send them crashing to their deaths.
“Stay vigilant. Tonight’s dinner is a good chance to assess our enemy. Keep your wits about you and don’t take stupid chances if you can help it,” Fallon warned.
Each of his men nodded, meeting his eyes with grim determination.
Fallon’s shoulders loosened. “Pass my message along. I’ll see you all at dinner.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
After a long bath and wearing clean clothes, Shea felt almost human again. There was something about washing off the residue of the trail that always left her feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the world. It also helped that the heat from the water had done much to loosen her muscles. For the first time in days, she could move without holding in a wince.
Although her clothes were simple, Fallon had managed to convince her to wear his symbols. A golden torque built to resemble the wings of a hawk clasped around a large sapphire stone. She normally would have worn a cuff around her bicep that matched the one around her neck, but she’d talked him out of that piece of finery, given the long sleeves she wore. The Keep carried a chill in its halls even in the high parts of summer. She didn’t relish the cold so had elected to keep her sleeves, despite his persistence.
She’d thought the torque would look silly with her simple garb but had to admit after admiring it in the mirror, that it seemed appropriate. It made her seem dangerous, yet at ease, as if to say she was secure in who she was and could wear such things without thought. It was a blending of Trateri tradition with Highland simplicity. She liked it, oddly enough.
She slid a glance at the warlord pacing beside her, his face impassive. With the black band of paint from temple to his eyes, he looked intimidating. He was the warrior come to call, fierce and mighty. An enigma wrapped in a lethal package.
His hair had been drawn into a tight braid at the top of his head, creating a small Mohawk before being left to fall loosely down his back.
His Anateri were similarly attired, all with various versions of the face paint. Her months with them had taught her that the Trateri only wore paint during formal occasions or when they planned to go into battle. She had a feeling that this dinner met the latter requirement.
With the Anateri at their back, then Braden and Caden immediately behind them, Shea and Fallon walked into the main hall. The open wooden door gave way to two steps leading down to the main floor.