by T. A. White
He felt a spurt of amusement. “Maybe we should try again. Just so you can practice being quiet.”
A fist came up to thump against his side.
“Ouch,” he said covering her fist and pressing it against his skin. He pressed a kiss behind her ear. “That hurts. I think you should make it up to me.”
Already he could feel himself stirring against her. She was a drug he couldn’t get enough of.
“Oh, you do, do you?”
His kisses moved along her jaw in answer. Her legs moved restlessly against his.
“I do,” he said, before his mouth covered hers.
It was a long moment before their lips parted enough for him to say, “Try to be quieter this time.”
There was a long moment, one where her eyes were slightly glazed, before they widened in realization. Then his lips were back again, and he was putting her fury to better use.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SHEA GUIDED her horse around another pile of rubble, careful not to venture near any of the buildings hovering over them like hulking beasts. Fallon’s army was nearly through the abandoned city. He’d made the choice to have them move out this afternoon when no sign of Clark or Fiona had been uncovered. Several of his men had also disappeared during the search.
Shea had tried arguing. She’d even gone so far as to suggest Eamon, Buck, and a few others remain behind with her to continue the search. Both Fallon and Reece had vetoed that idea. She understood Fallon’s reasoning but couldn’t guess what was in her cousin’s mind.
He’d grown increasingly tense the further they ventured into the city. Any other man she would have called jumpy. Reece, however, just seemed on edge, like a sudden noise might be responded to with extreme violence.
There was an itchy feeling on the back of Shea’s neck, like they were being watched. It had started while they were still camped and gotten worse as they traveled deeper and deeper into the city.
The men in Fallon’s army had started whispering of ghosts, eyeing the buildings around them with suspicion born of fear. Shea didn’t often find herself falling victim to such a mentality but even she was on edge.
If not for Clark and Fiona being missing, she would have advocated leaving this place far, far behind.
Fallon was just ahead of her, his Anateri forming a shield between them and the rest of the city. She knew from the pinched look on Caden’s face that he distrusted the buildings around them, probably only slightly more than he did the men following them. He and Fallon had decided that the clan leaders would ride with them. That way they could keep an eye on their potential saboteurs.
Shea had been on edge for the entire ride, watching for the slightest sign an attack was imminent. So far, the clan leaders seemed perfectly normal if a little tense, but that could be attributed to the current surroundings.
A scrap of cloth hanging from a stray post caught Shea’s attention. It was located behind two buildings and only visible because she passed by what could have been an alley between them in some long distant past. She pulled on her reins, forcing the horse to step in a tight circle.
Trenton slowed his horse, his face a grimace of pain as his ribs protested. Chirron might have kept him alive, but he had several broken ribs that reminded him every time he moved of how close a call he’d had of it.
“What is it?” he asked.
She didn’t answer. She stood in her stirrups to get a better look. That jacket was a familiar green. It was one she might have worn once upon a time. Clark had been wearing his as protection against the chill of the caverns when he’d gone missing.
Her first reaction was to rush for the jacket as if it might tell her where he’d gone, if she could just reach it. She quelled that urge, knowing that it could be a trap. Probably was a trap.
It seemed too simple for his jacket to turn up here—miles away from where he’d disappeared.
“I see something,” she said.
Trenton’s head snapped around, looking in the direction that seemed to draw her attention. He was quiet as he searched. It didn’t take him long to spot the jacket.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” he cautioned before giving a sharp whistle.
Fallon and the Anateri came to a stop. Fallon looked back. Noticing Shea and Trenton, he urged his horse toward them.
“What is it?” His words were sharp and abrupt, but Shea didn’t take it personally. He was on alert like all of them. This was the Warlord speaking, someone expecting a report.
Shea tilted her head to the jacket.
His sharp eyes fastened on it and he frowned. He’d seen the same thing she had. Such a nice present. It was practically wrapped with a bow.
Eamon rode up on her other side, his gaze already fastened on what held her attention. He let out a low curse when he caught sight of the jacket.
“What are your orders?” Trenton asked.
Fallon was silent for a long moment, his body tense.
Shea urged her horse forward, bypassing the alley between the buildings to ride around front.
“Shea!” Fallon called.
She ignored him. The building to her right held her entire attention. Movement in one of the windows high above had her hands tightening on the reins. They were being watched. Definitely a trap. The question was who had set the trap? And why?
She steered her horse to give the building a wide berth as she made a circle around it and the abandoned jacket. She had no intention of getting close, but they needed more information before they made any decision. The only way to do that was to do a little reconnaissance—something Fallon would have ordered had she not been here.
Men. They could be so smart sometimes but also dumb.
Shea was careful to keep her distance from the jacket and any nearby buildings when she was on the opposite side of it; Fallon watched her with a darkly intense look as she stopped and observed. It was quiet on this side of the square.
Fallon and a few of his men had stayed on the other side. No doubt he’d stopped anyone from following her for fear they would set off any traps that she might have bypassed. Again, smart man.
She glanced back up into the building. There was no movement that she could see from this side. She looked back at the jacket. It was nailed to a stone post. There was no wind down here, so it was utterly still, just hanging there.
The ominous air of the abandoned city lay all around her. The weight of fear and tension seemed to press in on her, ratcheting up her adrenaline. She took a deep breath, not letting the need for action lead her to a rash impulse.
A cool breeze stirred her hair, lifting it from her neck as it swirled around her, bringing with it the faintest sounds of voices, indistinct and indecipherable. She frowned. There should be no way for air to flow in this place. Any air that might have made it through the cracks in the rock above would never have reached this far down.
The voices carried by the wind grew more distinct. A murmuring, fueled by a thousand individual voices, rose. It was difficult but Shea though she heard one phrase being repeated over and over.
Enemy of my enemy, you are betrayed.
Betrayed?
Her eyes shot to the building. Some of the men had not come back last night. Perhaps the ones responsible for the collapse of the buildings before?
Her eyes went to the base of two buildings, but she didn’t see anything amiss. Still, that feeling was there in the pit of her stomach. The one that said something bad was coming.
Fallon looked like he felt it too as he stepped closer to the alley that would lead him to the square and the jacket.
“No, stay back,” Shea shouted. Her horse responded to the urgency of her voice by prancing in place. It was the only thing that saved her. An arrow flew by, piercing the air where she had just been. Shea ducked in her seat, hanging off the side of her horse as she tried to shield her vital points.
Almost at the exact same moment, an explosion rent the air and the buildings they would have been riding through, h
ad Shea not gotten distracted by the jacket, began to fall, collapsing in a great wave of dust and rubble.
The commotion proved too much for her mount. It reared, dumping her to the ground before taking off in the opposite direction of the collapse. Shea stayed low to the ground, not knowing if the bowmen in the building planned another shot at her or had already disappeared.
“Shea!” Fallon roared.
Shea coughed and lifted her head. The cloud of debris from the explosion and collapse had not yet dissipated. She couldn’t see him through the alley, nor he her.
She could hear him though. She could also hear Caden ordering his Anateri to keep him back.
“Stay there. We don’t know if they’ve set up secondary traps,” Shea shouted, or tried to shout, since the air made it hard to speak without coughing.
She sat up cautiously, hoping the poor visibility would keep her from being shot.
“There are archers in the buildings. Find cover,” she ordered.
There was a low murmur as Caden ordered his men into the buildings to search for their ambushers.
The world had turned a dusky gray. Shea climbed to her feet and limped forward. The jacket and post rose out of the gray, the only familiar landmark.
She grabbed the jacket and pulled it from the post, figuring that since she was here already she might as well get what she came for.
“Clear,” one of the Anateri yelled. It sounded like his voice was coming from high up in the building she suspected the archer had been in when she’d been shot at.
“Here as well,” another called.
Shea was glad because the dust was clearing from the air. She could see Fallon now, Caden at his side.
His eyes sparked with relief at the sight of her. She waved letting him know she was alright. His shoulders relaxed and he took a step toward her. She put up a hand and shook her head. No, she didn’t want him between those two buildings. Chances were they weren’t posed to collapse, but it never hurt to be careful.
He nodded, understanding her concern. Impatience drew his brows together. He turned on his heel, disappearing from view. Shea figured she had only a few moments as he took the same route she did to this square.
She turned the jacket over in her hands, noting the rips in the arm and one on the back. A few dark spots down the front had her stomach clenching with worry. It could be blood, but there was a chance it was something harmless. Though her mind was having a hard time coming up with an alternative.
There didn’t look to be enough of it to indicate a severe injury, but it was hard to tell. Shea couldn’t imagine Clark abandoning this jacket lightly. He took great pride in being a scout, and this jacket declared his status to other Trateri.
She bent and examined the cobblestones around the post. The cool climate of the cavern had preserved much of this place, even wood that should have long rotted away. That didn’t mean it was entirely untouched by the elements. The thick clay dirt that littered much of the caverns had accumulated here too. Shea could only guess that an underground river had originally carved this space out before drying up. She knew if the city had been exposed to continuous flooding, it would be in much worse shape.
Despite the dirt and debris on the cobblestone, there was no evidence of any footprints besides her own. What sort of man could walk the square, pin the jacket where someone would see it, then set several traps without leaving behind a single print as evidence of their existence?
Perhaps the Trateri assertion that ghosts lived here wasn’t too far from the truth.
There was a slight sound as Fallon made his way around the buildings. Shea stood, glad to see him alive and breathing. Had they not stopped to check out this jacket they could all very well be dead by now.
She took a step toward him and then froze as the ground shifted under her. She held up a hand. Something on her face must have warned him because he stopped, his guard instantly up.
The ground crumbled under her. She let out a sharp cry as she tumbled down into the darkness.
“Shea,” Fallon roared, charging forward. The terror in her eyes giving him speed. Even then, he wasn’t quick enough.
She fell, the ground disappearing from beneath her. There was nothing he could do, besides watch. The sound that left him then should have sent the rest of this decaying city crashing to the ground. A sound that held the pain and desolation of a man who held the power to conquer the world. There was no pain like watching the one you lived for, the one who gave color to the world and put breath in your lungs, die right in front of your eyes.
It was something he’d vowed to never have happen again. Yet here he was, watching Shea fall, helpless to do anything. Again.
Caden dragged him back from the edge when he would have gone in after her. “There’s nothing you can do. You won’t help anybody by following her down.”
Fallon fought against his friend, the man who had vowed to lay down his life in defense of his. He fought and raged against this man who kept him from the woman he loved.
“Fallon. Fallon,” Caden said, defending himself against his blows. “Grab him.”
Several other arms found their way around Fallon. His Anateri hanging onto him as he strained and fought to the edge of the hole Shea had fallen into. All the while roaring.
Eamon and Buck appeared, their faces a mask of shock. There wasn’t enough of Fallon present for him to wonder whether their reaction was because of his utter loss of control or the fact that another of their friends had been claimed by this cursed place.
Eamon jerked and then looked from Fallon into the darkness that had claimed Shea. “I hear something.” He watched the pit for a long moment, before calling, “Wait, let him go.”
Caden glared at the other man, his expression telling him without words how much he disliked that idea.
“I don’t think she’s dead,” Eamon said. “Let him go so he can see for himself.”
Fallon went still—hope a wild thing in his chest.
Caden’s movements were cautious as he loosened his grip on Fallon. When Fallon didn’t rush the spot where Shea had fell, he nodded at the others.
Fallon didn’t spare his men a glance as he took one hesitant step and then another. It wasn’t like him to experience uncertainty. He was a conqueror. A warrior. He made a plan and he implemented. There were no wasted actions. Everything he did had a purpose.
At the moment, his only purpose was making sure Shea still breathed. He’d give his entire army for that one thing.
He stepped to the edge, knowing if Eamon was wrong, the darkness inside of him, the one Shea had managed to beat back with her sly smiles and stubborn hardheadedness, would consume him and nothing in this world would ever be safe again.
“Anybody up there?” a voice called from below. “Fallon.”
His chest rose in a deep breath, and the cold that had gripped him since the sight of her fall began to thaw.
“Shea, how badly are you hurt?” he asked.
There was a long pause.
“I’m bruised but otherwise unharmed.”
He didn’t like that pause. Shea was the kind of person to hide how badly she was hurt to protect him. Especially if she knew there was nothing he could do and didn’t want to worry him.
“We’re going to get you out, just hang tight.”
He turned to Eamon, his voice a whip of sound. “Find me some rope. Now.”
Caden stepped forward. “Warlord, your men have cleared the two buildings and have found no sign of the archer.”
Fallon held up his hand before Caden said something Fallon would not be willing to forgive him for. “I’m not leaving her down there.”
“There could still be those waiting to ambush you. You’re exposed here.”
Except they hadn’t attacked him. They had attacked Shea. Why was that? It was the third time she’d been directly targeted. It was enough to make him doubt that he was the one they were after.
“I’m. Not. Leaving. Her.” Each wor
d was precise.
Caden had been with him long enough to recognize that tone and bowed his head. Good. Fallon didn’t want to have to replace him. He’d been loyal for many years, but even he didn’t get to tell Fallon what to do. Fallon went back to glaring at the hole.
“Where is that rope?” he shouted. Impatience a living thing within him.
Other parts of the square caved in. His men shouted and backed up in alarm. Fallon crouched as the ground shook and shook, like a dog trying to dry itself off.
When it had finished he stood, “Shea, are you still there?”
There was a long moment of silence. “Yeah, but this place isn’t too stable right now. I’m not sure I’ll survive another cave-in like that one.”
Eamon ran up, a coil of rope around his shoulder.
“We’ve found rope. We’re coming for you.”
“Don’t. The ground’s not going to hold much longer. I can see how unstable it is. I’m actually surprised the entire square hasn’t collapsed already.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“I can see another way out.”
“You’re lying.”
There was a rusty laugh from below. “I’m actually not. There really is a way out, and I think I’m supposed to take it.”
Fallon frowned. What did that mean?
“I’ll meet up with you when I can. Follow Reece out. He should know the way.”
Fallon’s expression turned thunderous. The Anateri close to him took a step back. Caden, who had been with him from nearly the beginning, just barely flinched. Fallon ignored them all.
“That is not happening,” he hissed.
How could she even suggest something like that? Something that went against the core of who he was?
“I’m not really giving you a choice. I’ll see you up there.”
His eyes narrowed to slits. She would not. He forbade it. There was a rustle below as if she really was trying to make her way to this exit.
He lost what little reason he had left. Fallon leapt forward, an explosion of movement that took him over the edge and into the pit Shea had fallen into.