Uncomfortable, but not wanting the people around her to know it, Shea kept her face as blank as possible as she came to a stop. Trenton stepped to her immediate left where he waited, exchanging nods when he was greeted by their fellow diners.
Shea was largely ignored except for the assessing glances that slid her way as they waited for dinner to begin.
Unexpectedly, she was hungry. Breakfast had been a long time ago and with all her plans to escape and then the stress of being caught, she'd forgotten to eat. She wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. The faster they were done, the faster she could start making new plans. Ones that wouldn't rely so much on chance.
The low murmur suddenly trailed off and then abruptly rose to a dull roar as Fallon strode to the head of the table, all earlier appearance of weakness gone. He was once again the ultimate warrior, the man who had guided Shea's hands in a killing blow and then pulled the dead revenant off her.
Shea found her eyes glued to him as the force of his presence sucked all of the oxygen out of the room.
There was something about him. Even from the beginning. Only now it was stronger because Shea had seen what he had created with his people. She knew what lengths he had gone through to rise to his position and how he battled daily to keep it amid a people who could just as easily tear themselves and the rest of the Lowlands apart. Despite herself, she respected him.
On one level he fascinated her, and on another, he absolutely terrified her.
As if sensing her thoughts, he looked up from where he was exchanging a nod with the Leo of Lion Clan to meet her eyes. Whatever he read there caused him to pause and then his eyes narrowed as if something had just occurred to him.
"What's she doing here?" a strident voice asked from the door.
Shea frowned and looked at the man standing just inside the entrance, the sun at his back and his face still in shadow. She noted that a few had cast the newcomer disgusted looks while the others steadfastly ignored him. Whoever he was, he wasn't liked.
"You finally have her, so let us go," the man demanded, taking another step into the chamber.
Who was he talking to?
She looked where he was looking and felt her throat tighten when she saw Fallon looking back at him with a dark look on his face.
"You need to keep a muzzle on your friend," Fallon spoke above the first man's head to another just ducking into the tent.
"I'll speak with him," a familiar voice said.
Shea's eyes swung back to the two men as the air thickened and froze around her. A pair of brown eyes flicked in her direction and then just as quickly away as he collared the first man and started to jerk him from the room.
Witt's mouth was set in a hard line as he started herding the man she was just recognizing as Paul out of the tent.
They hadn't made it out of the encampment all those months ago as she had hoped. She'd looked for them, for any of her men, every time she came back but hadn't found any sign of them.
Now, in possibly the worst situation, she had.
She took a tiny step back as Paul continued to fight against Witt. Trenton's eyes came sharply to her as the movement drew his attention and she stilled.
"No! She's right there!" Paul yelled at Witt, flailing an arm in the direction of the table's head, where Shea was inching back step by tortuously small step. Several pairs of eyes swung her way. She looked blankly back at them and then glanced behind her.
No one there but her.
"That's who you wanted, isn't it?"
"What is he going on about?" Darius asked impatiently.
"He's imagining things," Witt said tersely, "or trying to cause trouble. It wouldn't be the first time."
"I'm not," Paul stated loudly.
Witt yanked him harshly around and shoved him. Paul fell to one knee and struggled up only to be caught roughly by the shoulder and propelled to the door.
"Hold up," Fallon's quiet voice stopped the pair. "Let him speak."
Paul shoved free of Witt and stepped around him. Witt's head dropped slightly, and it looked like his fists clenched before he too turned to face the Trateri's leader. Unlike Paul, whose face was victorious as he eyed Shea with a smirk, Witt was careful to keep all thoughts hidden behind a hard mask, leaving him to watch the room and Fallon guardedly.
Shea noticed Henry, the Horse Clans leader, eyes linger on her a moment as his mouth pursed thoughtfully. He suspected what was coming. She was sure of it. Her body flashed hot as the skin on the back of her arms and neck started prickling and sweat popped up on her forehead.
"Tell me why you felt the need for your outburst," Fallon said. Despite the feeling of heat bouncing around Shea's nervous system, she still shivered at his tone.
"You mean you don't know?" Paul asked, cocking his head. "I can't believe this. Your entire army is out looking for her, and now you don't even recognize her when she stands next to you at dinner."
That was her cue. Time to go. Though the entire gathering was between her and the exit, she didn't plan to let that stop her as she loosened her grip on the dinner knife she had palmed the moment she'd recognized Witt.
The nice thing about tents as opposed to houses is that the former was made of cloth, which could be cut. So really there were an infinite number of escape routes if someone was inventive enough. Shea was extremely motivated to be inventive.
"I suggest you make your point quickly, boy." Darius sounded tense as if he had already guessed where this was going.
A hand caught Shea's shoulder and another reached down to jerk the knife from her hand. "Going somewhere?" Trenton asked in her ear.
Slowly, Shea raised her eyes to meet Fallon's gaze. His eyes held a startled recognition that quickly changed to a fierce look of victory before a shutter dropped down, masking his thoughts from her.
Shea drew in a sharp breath. Possession had been there too.
"Everybody out," Fallon said softly, still pinning her with his gaze.
"It's Shea," Paul kept going, ignoring the order. He pointed at her, "That is Shea. The woman you've been looking for."
"Out," Fallon roared.
The room emptied quickly. Many of the men slid her sidelong looks. The Cobra smiled coolly as she moved lithely out of the room. Shea barely registered this, finding herself unable to move her attention from Fallon's intense regard.
"I do not envy you the next few minutes," Trenton said softly. Then he too was gone.
Shea was afraid to move for fear of what would happen once this moment was broken.
Her gaze flitted about the room.
"Trying to escape would be pointless," Fallon informed her. "By now Darius has stationed my men all around this tent. We wouldn't want you escaping the same way you did last time."
That was good to know, though she hadn't really been thinking of cutting her way free. For one thing, Trenton had taken her knife. For another, escape would only delay the inevitable. There was no way she would ever make it out of camp. Running would only see her recaptured.
Fallon moved to the table and poured himself a cup of wine. Shea's hands clenched and unclenched at her sides and that damnable prickly heat was back, racing up and down her spine and neck.
Fallon lifted the cup and took a drink, looking at her over the rim the entire time.
Shea gathered the courage to ask, "So you've caught me, what do you intend to do with me?"
He took another sip and then put the cup down only to pick up another and pour some wine into that. He offered it to her, and when she blinked dumbly at it, he set it on the table next to him before picking his cup back up.
The silence unnerved Shea as did his steady, unwavering gaze.
She held her tongue as the silence grew, determined not to ask again. That would make her seem unsure and possibly desperate. Some instinct told her that was a dangerous thing to be in front of this man.
He set his glass next to him and crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles in his biceps thrown into sharp relief, as he ran his eyes thoughtfully over her.
"Tell me what happened once you escaped Darius," he finally said. "How did you end up a scout?"
"Why?"
He snorted before smiling lethally at her. "That is not what I want to hear."
That smile, those words. Pushing him right now would end badly for her.
"I was being chased by your men so I hid in a tent where I stole some clothes, cut my hair and rubbed a dark oil in it to disguise its color." She stopped and watched as he settled himself in a chair. He gestured for her to continue. "I never made it out of camp. Eamon spotted me as I was trying to slip past your sentries and assumed I was a scout because of my clothes. We ran into trouble on that first mission, and I was able to help. After that, well you know the rest."
"Why did you stay with them? I'm sure you had plenty of opportunity to leave."
She shrugged. "Meant to. Just never did."