Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles, 1)
Page 18
Sanders took a step forward even as the Captain did, not knowing exactly what to do, but wanting to cure this woman of that pain. The sight of it broke his heart. No one deserved to see a loved one killed, and then get confronted with it like this. No one.
He flinched when the prisoner yelled, stopping his advance. With a terrified expression, the foreigner jumped up and circled the small cell like a trapped animal. Panicked grunts escaped his mouth. Then whimpers. He turned toward the wall and started running with his head bent. He was trying to knock himself out to get away! After two steps, his legs lost their locomotion. He fell over sideways, crying in huge wracking sobs on the dirty floor.
“I can’t let you kill yourself, little mouse. Not yet. I need you. I need more tricks. You will die soon, though. All of you. For the things you have done. And the things you have allowed to happen.”
The man started screaming again. A high-pitched pronouncement of the utmost level of anguish. Lucius started forward, but the Captain was there before him, placing his hand on Shanti’s shoulder.
“How extraordinary, I can keep him from blacking out. Do you feel that, Cayan? His life is literally in my hands. What a nasty little mouse to think that up.”
“That’s enough, mesasha,” the Captain said softly.
Alarm caused Sanders to turn away from the charged scene to stare at the Captain. Then at Lucius, who had just stepped forward in concern, hands reaching toward their shoulders again.
“If I’ve landed in a lover’s triangle of some sort, I am going to quit,” Sanders muttered. He scratched the center of his chest where the lump had formed. “And if I develop a soft spot for that fool girl, I’m going to throw myself down a cliff.”
His muttering cut off as Shanti swayed. The Captain scooped her up as if she weighed ten pounds. Then those fierce blue eyes were looking at Sanders. “Make sure that man doesn’t kill himself. Talk to the Mugdock again. Tell him we will spare him the pain if he answers our questions.”
“Yes, sir,” Sanders answered crisply.
They swooshed out of the room, plunging Sanders and the prisoners into thick, syrupy silence, only broken by the occasional whimpers of the foreign man.
The Mugdock said, “You ask, I answer.”
Chapter 28
It had been three days since Shanti had started on the Inkna man. She had learned a handful of torture techniques the man was very familiar with, but nothing else of value. He didn’t know what the plans were concerning the trading, only that he was in charge of killing the Captain. It seemed he allowed himself to be taken to this end. He hadn’t thought anyone in the city had mental abilities.
His mistake.
Unfortunately, for the fact that he understood how important Cayan was to the city meant his kind did, too. If they knew, it was only a matter of time before the Graygual knew. A timer had started on Cayan’s life. On the lives of everyone in the city, actually. Shanti had prolong the inevitable, but eventually Black Death would come calling, trying to snatch another soul for the Underworld.
Her duty was growing by the day.
Sanders had been gone for two days on the first trade run. Knowing that one of the Inkna wanted to kill the Captain was enough to make Shanti advise cancelling the trip. Sanders and the other blockheads decided, however, that it would be best to act like they had no idea of the treachery. They had brought plenty of guys, they were going to an open location, and they doubted anything more serious than failure to pay could happen.
It had not helped her rapport with the Captain and his top tier of men that she cursed them all and told them how absolutely stupid they all were.
“You look wonderful.”
Shanti came out of her reverie to notice Molly standing over her, holding a strand of green, sparkling gems. It was a half an hour until the ball, which was mainly for the city’s elite. Apparently anyone with some power wanted a reason to pat themselves on the back. She had no idea why the Captain insisted she go.
Shanti threw a quick glance down at her silk dress, which clung and flowed over her peaks and valleys, like a cascade of water over glistening rocks. She’d been asked to dress in something appropriate for her people, and so she’d given specifications to a dressmaker for the design. She had not specified a color. What she received back was almost exactly the shade of green she’d worn and discarded in front of the Captain at their first meeting. She had a suspicion the dressmaker had a sense of humor. Also that Molly was a gossip.
“Wearing paint on my face isn’t a great idea,” Shanti declared. “When I rub my eyes, I’ll smear it down my face.”
“Yes, dear, but it makes you look glamorous. Very exotic.”
Exotic. That was Molly’s favorite descriptor. That, or striking. In other words, not beautiful, but well appreciated for putting in the effort.
Shanti didn’t care. She wasn’t here to find suitors.
She pulled her long, blond hair off her shoulders so Molly could fasten the necklace. “A necklace is a great way to allow someone to choke you without having to bring their own supplies,” she muttered.
Molly tsk’ed. “Hush, now. The Captain won’t let anything happen to you.”
She stepped back and turned Shanti around. Her gaze glided over Shanti’s form. “I do wish you would’ve worn something a little more…usual. I can see the outline of your thighs!”
Shanti ignored her.
“Anyway, the buggy is here. You look striking, dear.”
A jostling ride in a horse drawn cabbage cart later—why she wasn’t allowed to walk was beyond her—she and Molly, who was going as something called a chaperone, walked into Cayan’s large mansion in the middle of the city. The residence was ablaze with candles, showing off spacious rooms with large windows and high ceilings. The furniture and decorations expressed the utter wealth of the city and the many extravagances they took for granted: metal stands holding candles, huge canvas tapestries on the walls, wood and leather furniture. The Inkna had a good eye for such things. It was only a matter of time before they showed up again, like sea foam before the tide.
They entered a spacious main room with candles hanging from large, shining metal and gem contraptions that looked like upside-down spiders. Candles on stands, like in the streets but more delicate, stood on tables and graced the walls. There were flames everywhere. Apparently no one realized how dangerous fire was.
“This mansion is a family heirloom,” Molly said conversationally, gesturing around them at the finery of the large mansion. “It has been in the family as long as the family has been in charge of running the city. Way back when they were called kings. Now they are Captains. That change came with our Captain’s great-great-grandfather, of course.”
“Uh huh.” Shanti didn’t care. She also had no idea why she said she’d come.
“Oh look, there he is now.”
Cayan was standing across the room dressed in a black, long sleeved shirt that hugged his upper body. His cloth pants moved and sighed with his body, proving men’s fashion, unlike women’s, was reasonably comfortable. His features were straight and bold, softened by his blue eyes and luscious mouth, especially when he dared smile and reveal the dimples. The shadow of raven facial hair had been removed for the occasion.
He cleaned up well.
Which was an understatement.
He lounged next to a willowy woman with slim shoulders, a long, delicate neck, and hair pulled up in weaves and twists accented with small flowers and buds. Her breasts heaved out of her cream colored dress in a display of cleavage most babies would reach for, and her waist cinched down in fashionable torture. Her skin was a hair darker than Cayan’s bronze, and her hair a touch lighter than Cayan’s wavy dark brown. She was distractingly beautiful.
“We’ll say hello to him later, dear. They are talking to a counselor.” Molly patted her arm and led her to a stand of drinks like a goat with a leash.
They hadn’t been there two heartbeats before Shanti heard, “Hello.”
Shanti stared at his hand in confusion. He didn’t have the Gift, why would he request a mind link?
“Shake his hand, dear,” Molly whispered.
“It’s okay.” Sterling lowered his hand to his side. “That is just our custom. How do you greet someone in your land?” His stare was flat and intense, his complete focus on the conversation. Shanti tried not to squirm under the heavy gaze, strangely wanting to punch him.
“We offer a slight bow. If we are great friends or feel so inclined, we’ll touch, as you just did, but that represents a deeper intimacy. However, since I’m in your city, I won’t be rude.” She extended her hand, palm up.
“The woman has palm down, dear,” Molly murmured.
Shanti flipped her hand. Without hesitation, gaze locked with hers in a flat stare, Sterling raised his hand, palm up, until it met Shanti’s. Warm and calloused—if her eyes were closed, she’d know he was good with a bow and decent with a sword. Which was strange, since he was excellent with a bow and more than decent with a sword. He must’ve taken pains to soften his hands. Interesting.
The touch lingered for a second, then he pulled away. “You know that I have been trying to find your trainings.”
“You know that I’ve been trying to evade.”
He smiled slightly. “Yes. Not at first—I thought I was unlucky. Then you started having them when it was most convenient for me. Always a step ahead. It was not a subtle clue.”
Shanti laughed. “It was good training for us. Is good training, I should say.”
“They’re getting better.”
“That’s funny, I would’ve said the same about you.”
He laughed this time. “No. I’m learning the signs. I thought I was learning faster than you could teach. Then you sent me on a ghost trail.”
“That was Leilius.”
Sterling glanced over Shanti’s shoulder then back to her. “I have left my date. I should get back to her. Before I do, I would just like to say… I wrongly judged you. I see that you’re not like… I see that you mean well, and are what you say.”
She couldn’t repay the sentiment. He was exactly how she’d judged.
“Have a good evening.” He gave her a deep bow, his interpretation of her custom, and walked away smoothly.
Without a moment for reflection, Molly took her by the arm and led her across the room. Why? Who could say. They picked a new place to stand seemingly at random, that spot just as good as the first. The next spot was, too. If Molly wanted exercise, they could have walked to the ball in the first place.
“How long do we have to stay?” Shanti asked as they followed a slowly moving crowd around the room like cattle.
“At least until the dancing. Do you want something to drink besides water?”
“No. Thank you.”
For the next couple dozen minutes Molly chatted, introduced her to a handful of people who stared, and walked around the room slowly. It was boring and awful and Shanti just wanted to go home. Until she saw Jerrol. He was with a woman who had many gems on her neck, all different colors, and a bright purple dress. She was pretty and he was beautiful. Shanti wanted him if only to make love while looking into those earth brown eyes, so like Romie’s she got a tight feeling in her gut every time she saw him.
“Shanti.”
And that ruined it.
She turned to Cayan, standing tall and broad, no willowy woman in sight. In fact, Molly had wandered away as well. Just great.
“Hi Cayan.”
His gaze connected with hers, giving her a similar stare as Sterling had, but not as strangely flat. He raised his hand slowly, palm up. It wasn’t a good idea, but then, people were watching—he probably wanted to look normal.
After a brief hesitation she touched her palm to his, holding her mind in check and ready to battle. Instead of his torrent, though, she got a pleasant vibration of power, available but not used. In addition, that strange spicy feeling unfurled deep in her stomach, sizzling up her ribcage and fizzing through her limbs. She asked him about the latter.
“The spicy feeling--yes. I like it. Is it not normal?”
“I don’t know. No one has ever mentioned it to me if it is. You’re doing well with your control.”
“I’ve been practicing religiously.”
“Good.”
They broke contact, Cayan letting his focus flick to her dress and back. “Your dress is exquisite. It is risque but covers everything. Artistic but simple. Cut beautifully. I think the dressmakers are already trying to fabricate it. Many women are jealous.”
“Jealous of a dress. Silly.”
“Jealous of the enchanting woman, not the dress she is in.”
“Enchanting—spell casting?”
Cayan’s eyes twinkled. “If you please.”
Shanti turned away to look at the crowd laughing and chatting, most of the party often glancing toward her and the Captain. “I’ve never heard witches talked of in a positive way. I think the jealousy is of your date. She is the staple of beauty, is she not?”
Cayan’s gaze was still on her. “She is, yes. How are your nightmares? Lucius tells me you have them every night.” To her scathing glance he said, “Your walls are thin and your screams loud.”
The Captain had stuck her in a tiny, one bedroom house, more aptly called a hut, attached to Lucius’ much larger house at the back of the city. She had been given the illusion of privacy while Lucius’ duty of spying was made easy.
“Enough about me, let’s talk about me…” Shanti articulated in a voice so dry it was amazing one of the nearby candles didn’t light it on fire. She looked away.
“Sterling spoke to you earlier. What did he say?” the Captain asked.
“Aren’t real nosey, are you?”
“Not real nosey, no.”
Her glare promised eternal pain. He answered by smiling, his dimples transforming his face into something just shy of perfection. Why did she want to punch everyone she talked to tonight?
“My clothes are easy to move in, and yours aren’t. There isn’t much you can do,” the Captain said easily, reading her mind. Or her face.
“Isn’t there?” Like a needled child, wanting to get even, she gathered power and let it blossom, the air around them crackling with the electricity of it.
His smile disappeared immediately. He grabbed her arm with a quick hand, turning her body toward the wall, probably trying to hide her glowing eyes from onlookers. Her power leapt to him, mingled and spread, vibrating between his body and hers, traveling across their skin like a fizzling plague, igniting little pulses that pooled into their bodies. The spicy feeling became a pleasing scent. His own power rose, unasked, calling to her, desperate to open out and join, barely kept at bay by his massive strength of will.
The seconds ticked away, chaotic power surging around them, threatening to break free. Shanti desperately forced it down, trying to collapse it, using her life’s training to try and tuck it away. She struggled against Cayan’s answering attraction, the power so intense it seemed to draw from deep in the earth, quaking the air around them with his raw power.
“He informed me of his amendment to his previous judgments,” Shanti said in a strained voice, trying to control her breathing, jerking her arm away from his bare hand, then grabbing his arm, encased in fabric, to turn him to the wall, too. His eyes glowed more now than they ever had.
“I don’t know that I can hold it, Shanti,” Cayan whispered in a tension-filled voice.
“Step outside. Look at the sky, and envision throwing your mind up to the nearest star. If that isn’t enough, envision roaring with the power. Just make sure to direct it up or we’ll all get a blast. I’ll find Lucius and send him out in case you throw all your life’s energy with it.”
He nodded, his whole body tight, and walked sw
iftly to the door. Their power ripped in half, fizzling in his wake. Shanti clutched her own power tightly, used to managing its surges, although struggling with the amount now battering against her. She spotted Lucius across the room, speaking to a pretty girl with lust-filled eyes. Still struggling for control, though grappling with less of a burden now that Cayan wasn’t coaxing her power higher, she walked gracefully, attempting to fit in. But when older men edged away warily, she realized her grace was another man’s nightmare. So she settled for a fast walk and a lazy hand on Lucius’ arm.
Lucius turned to her with a question in his eyes.
“The Captain needs you outside. Quickly. Possibly Sterling, too. But only you two. You might need to… carry the conversation…”
Lucius barely gave a parting word to the woman he had been leaning into a moment before, leaving Shanti with the impression that they were either very close, or she wasn’t all that important to him. One would understand, and the other didn’t matter. And since she had nothing else to do, she figured she might as well meddle.
“Hello, I’m Shanti.” She couldn’t hide the strain in her voice, wondering when this flux would die down.
The woman, sweet and delicate, tore her gaze from Lucius’ back and met Shanti’s. She smiled in a practiced way. “Yes, hi. Lucius mentioned you. You are foreign.”
There was no movement toward hand touching. Possibly only men and women shook? A glance at Molly told Shanti that the older woman was irritated, but that didn’t help much.
“I am foreign, yes, that’s right. Did you come with Lucius?”
“No. We are friendly, but I am just getting to know him.”
“Ah. Well, he should be ba—“
A burst of power rocked her body, making currents in her blood and wiring her jaw shut. She reached for the wall and just barely found it before toppling. Molly was there in a minute, straightening her. Asking if she was all right. Shanti heard a ripple of nervous laughter around the room, everyone having felt something bizarre with no explanation.