Page 164 of Mist's Edge

“Not exactly how I pictured meeting your father,” Fallon said.

Shea snorted. “What? You didn’t expect to meet him in the middle of a destroyed and abandoned village and have him threaten you with death?”

“Somehow, no. Though I should have, given he’s the one to raise such an unexpected woman.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

She bumped his shoulder with hers.

“It would have been easier for me to just stand trial,” she told him. “They’re probably going to ask us to go into the Badlands and face whatever has been directing these beasts.”

“I wasn’t willing to chance it,” he said. “Besides, I got the Highlands out of it.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s as much of a prize as you seem to think.” She gestured to her surroundings. “This is what you would be ruling over.”

He looked around. “This is what I would be protecting.”

Shea stared up at his face. Yes. Protecting. She thought the pathfinders might have forgotten that was their role once upon a time. Perhaps Fallon and his army could take up that mantle.

“Are you ready to go home?”

She stared at him for another moment. Her father had made it clear with his talk of trial that the Keep was no longer her home. A thread of sadness fought to linger before Shea forced it away. That was before. This was now.

A smile dawned, it was slow and spoke of new beginnings. “What are you talking about? My home is standing right next to me.”