Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles, 1) (11 page)

“You can fight.” It was that deep gravel
that gave her shivers, currently subdued. He let the hush of their surroundings filter into his tone.

“Sorry
. You startled me.”

“Sanders said you had muscle tone fit for a soldier, and calluses to match.”

“He’s correct. Although I’m a long way from fit. Too far. I haven’t been healing in the right ways—something this wood will hopefully rectify.”

“Those weapons are yours.”

She nodded her head slightly.

“I
figured it when I measured the leg harness—it’s too small for a man.”

She nodded again.

“Is it blood sport? Is that why you fight? Are you running from the people that make you do it? I can help you. Protect you. We do not tolerate that sort of violence here.”

A pang of longing stabbed her. If only he could protect her. If only it was something as small as a domineering mate or an imprisoning culture. She sighed, blinking tears from her eyes. “It is not sport. I train, I fight, I kill if necessary. Like you. I am not running from whatever it is you imagine. I am not preyed upon because of my sex. I was not a slave and I was never mated. Nor raped. I intend to keep it that way.”

He nodded quietly, clearly out of his element regarding what sort of women fought when they didn’t have to. Letting it go, he murmured, “Fair enough. But you’re far from home. Are you home sick? Do you need money to get somewhere? Include me on your plans and I can help.”

She laughed sardonically. “Homesick, yes. Every moment of my life, waking or otherwise. Do I need money? No,
thank you. There’s nothing to go back to.”

“So you’
re running, then?”

“For now, yes. For good, no.”

The rainbow looked like it was caught in a whirlpool. “Are you giving me vague answers on purpose?”

“Are you purposely asking questions in my time of vulnerability for a better chance of getting answers?”

“I don’t like to see a woman alone without resources, or vulnerable, if I can help her.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

The Captain paused. Then snorted and looked out at the trees.

“Exactly,” Shanti whispered.

“You’ve picked up our language quickly,” he began again. He bent his knee and looped a large arm over it.

“I already knew it, as you remember.”

“Your accent is much improved, your word choices are intelligent, and your swear words are…colorful.”

It was Shanti’s turn to snort. “Set young boys to match my steps and I get the choicest cuts of colorful language.”

“Sanders said he hasn’t seen you since you went to stay with him.”

Shant
i picked up a blade of grass. The filtered sun highlighted it in splotches as she twirled it in her fingers. “You’re trying to punish him for some reason, while getting someone capable to keep an eye on me. He’s trying to live his life. I’m allowing him to do that. He needs to feel free to talk to his mate. He needs license to have loud, obnoxious sex. Why he doesn’t is beyond me, but it is not my fault.”

“Maybe he’
s waiting for an invitation for two women at once…”

Shanti smiled, grateful that the Captain was trying to
lighten the mood. “Maybe, but I’d rather not get drugged, then murdered in my sleep by Junice.”

The Captain laughed. It was a deep, peaceful sound, light and pleasant.
It tickled her stomach pleasantly, reminding her of pleasures lost. Then he sobered, the dimples stored away, too serious too soon. This man didn’t live much. He worked, he bore the responsibility of a large city with a lot of trade and goods, and he let himself be ruled by his job as he ruled those under him. Shanti pitied him slightly. It wasn’t a great way to live a life.

The Captain backed his rump up and settled against the tree at Shanti’s back. “I hear you’re abusing my Cadets.”

“Teaching, not abusing.”

“Kicking them for not vocalizing an affirmation is abusive.”

Shanti snorted. She’d done worse than that on occasion. “And if you truly believed that, you would not hold your position for long. I was treated much worse when I was learning. I had harsher rules. And look, I’m fine. It made me a more disciplined fighter.”

“Boys step out of line
as a matter of principle. They’re wilder than girls. They break the rules to test boundaries. I don’t punish as much as you might think.”

Shanti threw down the grass.
“Boys might be wilder most times, but there are always exceptions. You’re speaking to one.”

“I see,” he said with an amused tone.

“Marc is bright but painfully shy.
Painfully
shy.
Getting kicked in the head helps him realize that merely getting
looked at
isn’t so scary.”

“Xavier is budding. He is starting to lead.”

“That wasn’t my doing.”

“It was, in a round-about sort of way.
He’s responding, growing into a fighter with your methods. Rachie, Gracas, even Leilius, they are responding.”

Shanti shrugged. “They just needed structure and a little attention.”

“Sanders nearly choked on your cookies.”

Shanti couldn’t help but laugh. “Now I understand the swirling mind colors. You have so much going on
in your thoughts at any one time, one wonders what will pop out of your mouth.” She got a look of charmed confusion. She might as well have been speaking in her own language. “Um…cookies, oh yes. I warned you, as you recall. Fighting, hunting, shooting—they are all I know.”

“I see. And have you made any progress with your needlepoint?”

Shanti stood, sensing more male minds coming her way. The Captain followed her lead. If he was surprised she knew they were coming, he didn’t show it.

“You’v
e been in here for some time, “he said, sobering once more. “We thought you might try to make a run for it. Your honor guard is finally showing up.”

Shanti turned to him and looked up. The man was massive, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. It was an unpleasant reminder to the challenge he would present to her fitness level.
“How did you find me? If they’re just now showing up...”

He winked. “That’s why I get called Lord. I’m the best.”

She sniffed. “How do you carry that ego around? Does it not get tedious?”

The Captain smiled,
his dimples making deep divots in his cheeks. With a glance in the direction of the oncoming kids, he nodded once and walked away, the opposite direction as the clambering honor guard.

She shook her head, then donned a wicked smile.

Now to scare the honor guard.

The end of the next couple weeks saw Shanti back to nearly full health and desperately working on full strength. She went through her fighting styles, one at a time, until she was shaking and sweaty. Then she did the same with her mental conditioning, nearly blacking out twice. She had been taking to the trees, always practicing there at night, giving Sanders and Mrs. Sanders some time to play tootsie.

Shanti’s honor guard was now an Honor Guard. It was a real title. And it was real irritating. The Captain in all his misplaced wisdom decided he was tired of punishing the boys for obeying her and not their immediate officers, so he assigned them to her for safe keeping. He also wanted to punish her with a bunch of ridiculous little kids following her around
, constantly getting in the way and tripping each other up. Plus, he said, she needed protection.

Shanti had asked Sanders for clarification, making sure
“protection” didn’t actually mean
surveillance
. She was told that technically, no, but in this case, probably.

Being that she didn’t have a real job, and only needed half the day to work on her strength and endurance, especially with no weapons, she decided she might as well make a game of it. She
started leading a merry chase around the city, much to the Honor Guard’s chagrin, only to pop out from behind a corner when they least expected it. They never thought it was as funny as she did.

This was
all exasperating for the
beloved
Captain, of course. He had informed her, through the proper channels, that she was to stay in Sanders’ house unless chaperoned. She was to behave like a lady. She was to keep quiet and stop bothering him with her blatant disregard of authority.

Being that excrement flowed downhill, the chain of command was nothing more than a poo
p-chute; the lowest member having to walk around with shit on his face. She relayed this fact to anyone with the Captain’s agenda on his or her lips.

The next message tumbling down the chain of command was simply, “Be nice.”

It was one blissful afternoon where not being
nice
was the name of the game. Having thrown off her persistent Honor Guard for the moment, Shanti walked into the training grounds, the location of which she was absolutely not supposed to know. It was a large open area nestled in the middle of a copse of trees at the extreme southern end of the city. The outside wall was easily visible, with no cover or branches close enough that a person could climb up and hop over. She never bothered to point out that the wall was made of rough stone with large masonry cracks; climbing wasn’t difficult.

She’d already
proven that assessment. And gotten her Honor Guard in trouble for not having the man-rocks to climb up after her and pull her back down.

S
hanti spotted Sanders immediately. He stood in the middle of a group of men around Shanti’s age, showing some sort of knife throw. It was a move only large, strong men could do with other large, strong men, because it was clunky and easy to slip out of if you were in any way nimble.

The far corner had a wall set up with targets. Men of all ages loitered around, throwing knives like they might throw a ball. While most had great aim, they applied terrible technique. Such an easy thing to master, and yet it was an anomaly on these training grounds.
Ridiculous.

“Can I help you?”

Shanti turned to a man in his early thirties with a dirty, sweat-stained shirt and loose pants. His honeyed skin provided a natural block against the intense heat. His face was broad but features delicate, barely on the masculine side of pretty. His eyes, though…

Shanti felt a pang of longing as she gazed into those eyes. Warm brown, like the earth, almost exactly the same color and shape as Romie’s had been.

Shanti smiled, her stomach fluttering. Remembering. “Oh no, you and yours are providing plenty of distraction, thank you.”

“I don’t believ
e you’re supposed to be here.” His beautiful eyes started to twinkle. She wanted to fall in immediately and never come out.

“Actually, Command
er Sanders gave me these knives.“ Shanti produced the stolen blades from the belt of her stolen pants. “He said I should try to throw them.”

The man laughed, a pleasing sound that tickled her below her stolen belt line. “I doubt that.”

“Are you calling your commanding officer a liar?” Her voice took on a sharp edge. If he didn’t go for that, she had a strictly feminine purr at the ready. She had about fifteen more minutes before her Honor Guard found her, and less than that before Sanders did. She wanted to throw her knives and make all the boys squeal.

But then, she also had a half a mind to make this boy squeal. Decisions.

His eyes rounded and he shook his head. “No, ma’am. Let me take you to Commander Sanders.”

“I see him. Why don’t you take me to the Pit instead
? He said he’d meet me there…”

Knowing what they called the area to throw knives obviously gave her credibility. As they headed over
, thankfully not in clear view of Sanders, Shanti said, “So what is your name?”

“Jerrol, ma’am. And you are the foreign woman.”

“Shanti, yes. Tell me, Jerrol, does your city have a ban on pre-mating intercourse?”

“Mating?”

“Um…you know…” Shanti searched for the word, “what you call wife and husband?”

“Married, you mean. Uh…” With an embarrassed smile he looked around, trying to make sure no one overheard their conversation. Talking about sex was apparently restricted. Pity.

“Lovers are taboo in this culture, then, is that correct?” she pushed.

“Lovers?”

She wasn’t making him squeal so much as squeak.

It was just her luck that she landed, half dead, into a prudish culture where women wore entire rolls of fabric on their person, each gender was afraid of seeing the other naked, sex was quiet of all things, and only the men protected their people. She couldn’t have been more out of place if she’d dreamed up a joke for herself.

“Forget I said anything. Until the ban ceases, of course.”