by K. F. Breene
He was met with that stare again. He wasn’t being rushed; the Captain always had time for everyone, but a guy didn’t have to be prodded to want to walk away. Not with those hard eyes trapping him. “Yes, Cadet?”
“Um, well, two things. One, she won’t eat. She just keeps saying she’s not hungry. She’s only had a small amount since the end of the battle yesterday. Lucius is busy, and I know you are too, but Commander Sanders can’t help because—well, he’s…you know—and no one else will probably be any good. Her body is trying to heal, she is trying to heal others as well…she needs to eat or she’ll get sick. Or worse.”
The Captain was walking before Marc had finished. Since he hadn’t gotten to the second problem, and he hadn’t been told he was excused, he jogged to catch up.
“And the second thing?”
Oh good, following had been the right decision.
He cut off a sigh as the impatient blue gaze swept his way. “And, uh, maybe you don’t care, or are glad, but she said she’s leaving after her shoulder heals. It’s not a bad wound—it won’t take long to heal. Not with her accelerated rate, anyway. She says she is better off alone. She also made a comment that she would have no people unless she got help—“
The Captain stopped abruptly and turned to him. “Tell me exactly what she said.”
Marc’s legs started to tremble. Oh God, he should have written it down. He relayed as much as he could remember and did broad strokes for the rest. He tried not to stammer, but his brain was having a hard time refraining from telling his legs to run. When he was done the Captain was silent for a beat.
“Who else heard?” he finally said.
“Leilius. That’s it.”
“Do you know what it means? What she meant?”
“Uh-mm, I assume it meant that some of her people made it to safety and are awaiting her return with help. She must have stashed the best and the brightest if they hope to have a chance, right? And that she had thought this man that she loved was going to safety with them, but he didn’t. And even though she just killed the man who killed him, then well, if that’s true, it’s bringing the grief right back up to the surface, I would guess. And someone who was paired with her, to protect her, like Lieutenant Lucius does, died. So probably for her, right? Probably to help her escape? She’s obviously as powerful as everyone seems to think she is, so she’s the jewel that everyone wants to claim to win the war, right? And now there is you…um…”
Something had changed in the Captain’s face. His eyes turned hard and intense. Marc lowered his eyes and tried to shrink out of the way, hoping the Captain left him standing there and moved on.
“Insightful.” No such luck. “Do you have reason to believe Leilius put any of that together?”
“Uh, n-no, sir. He was too worried about the tears.”
“Whose? Shanti’s?”
“Yes, sir.”
Marc heard a deep breath and a slow exhale. Then, “I’m sure I don’t have to impress upon you that that is information you are not to share?”
“N-no, sir. You are the one I thought should have that, uh, knowledge. Sir.”
“Correct. Well done.” His feet didn’t move, and since that was all Marc could see of him, he didn’t really know what was going on, and he didn’t want to look up to find out. So he waited quietly.
“So she does have people.” The Captain sounded like he was half talking to himself. “They must have saved some, knowing they couldn’t win. What a decision to have to make. She had to send her people to their death, hide those that gave them the best chance for their future, and save herself. She had to play God with those she had known all her life—deciding who lived and who died. Even had to track down the captured and kill them in an act of mercy. Could I have done that?”
Rhetorical? Probably. Marc continued to stare at the ground and pretend like he couldn’t hear the conversation spoken to the top of his head.
“This man she speaks of was not a soldier,” the Captain went on. “Lucius has heard that from her nightmares. He was good with children. He stayed behind, which means the children were taken to safety. He was probably trying to buy them time so they could escape. Noble. So they saved children, caretakers, and their best soldiers. Interesting. I wonder where they were hidden…”
“They saved those with fighting skills and the mental part, too, sir.” Marc flinched. Why did he have to speak? And now he’d caused silence. That couldn’t be good.
“And they followed her ruling. They valued her leadership. They had faith that she should go alone to get this thing done. They thought a young woman was the best choice to walk across the land in search of an ancestor a hundred or more years removed with nothing but weapons and her father’s ring. And she almost made it.”
“She thought our forest was still intact. If not for that, she would be long gone,” Marc said in resignation. If the Captain was determined to make him a sounding board, he might as well move the thoughts along.
“We are not alone in this, either, Cadet.”
Marc didn’t know what he was talking about, so he said nothing.
“But she has to go—I see that now.”
“But sir, you can’t let her leave!” Marc said in desperation. “We cannot withstand those Starchars, or whatever they are. You have power, I hear, but you can’t heal with your mind. Or cause pain. Or whatever else she does that helps the army. You can’t—“
“That is enough, Cadet.” The Captain’s deep, graveled voice set Marc’s bones to vibrating. Marc could feel a warning tingle in his ball sack that said he was probably about to be bodily thrown somewhere. He was prepared for flight and was not ashamed to admit it.
“She has to leave,” the Captain went on, walking now, “but you are right, she has valuable skills we need to harness. For right now, though, she needs to stay alive, and her spirit needs to heal. You are in charge of monitoring that, and reporting to me whenever she suffers a blow. The rest of what she said you will not speak of to her or anyone else, save me. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Suck your emotions deep within you. She does not seek them unless it is dire, so if you keep your thoughts close to your chest, she should glean nothing of this conversation.”
Mark had no idea what that meant, either, but it was always wise to agree with the Captain. “Yes, sir.”
As they walked up, Shanti grimaced, eyes still closed. “Marc, you are a tattletale.”
“See, that’s weird,” Leilius mumbled, scooting around the tree.
“It’s not weird. Marc’s brain is all soft and squishy and caring. The other one’s brain looks like the ugly rugs he is so fond of. I am not reading his thoughts, just that he is unhappy about something. As usual.”
“You two boys can leave now,” the Captain said, his gaze trained on Shanti.
Neither Marc or Leilius wasted any time.
Chapter 48
Shanti waited for the probing mental contact she knew would come. When it did, she gave it a tug, then gave him the mental equivalent of a kick. “You need to ask before you try to look in on someone’s thoughts.”
“You seem to have no qualms about it,” Cayan replied, sitting down beside her.
She still hadn’t opened her eyes, but he smelled dirty. And sweaty. “I don’t look. I maintain a connection with my head like people do with their eyes. I monitor to make sure everyone is alive, is okay, and is not in need of help. I cannot help, and really do not appreciate, that your people seem to constantly advertise their every damn emotional feeling.”
“Do you even know what damn means?”
“No, but I know how it is used, and how people respond to its use, which is really all slang is anyway.”
“I see.”
“I’m glad.”
“You need to eat.”
“You need to butt-out. And no, besides its use, I don’t understand that one, either. I know what a butt is, of course, and what ‘out’ is, but I don’t se
e how a naked butt, or a protruding butt, or a butt hanging out of something, makes sense in language. But yet, it makes the boys close their mouths or go away. Often times both.”
“Why won’t you eat? Or look at me?” Cayan was getting impatient.
“Jerrol won’t talk to me, you know. He stares often enough, and nearly vomits lust when he passes, but he won’t say two words. Was that your doing?”
“No. Not directly.”
“Undo it.”
“Why?”
A hot tear ran down Shanti’s cheek. “Because…I need him.”
“Him, or a man?”
“Him.” Another tear followed the first. She felt a deft finger wipe them away.
“Why him?” the Captain whispered.
“Because he has the same eyes. Earth brown. Deep, rich, gravitating earth brown. I want to make love to him, Cayan. One last time. I want those eyes looking into me while I hold him in my body.”
“Jerrol isn’t…your lost love. He doesn’t look at you the same way. The eyes are the same color, that’s all.”
“Romie.”
“Sorry?”
“Romie was his name. He was the sweetest person you could ever meet. He didn’t care about my status. Or my duties. Or my future before we heard of the armies coming. He would have stayed away if I’d asked. He would have loved me from a distance—let me choose one with a similar Gift. We had planned to mate. Before I left my homeland, he was the only one I had ever been with. By choice. It wasn’t really our custom—before mating we all, especially the fighters, experimented. We needed to be sure of what we wanted before we pledged ourselves. But I never wanted anyone but him. He gave me the same courtesy. Not many others, especially men, would do that.”
Cayan sat quietly, not moving. Listening. Letting her purge.
“I’ve defied his trust several times along the road,” she continued sadly. “Most times out of loneliness. Sometimes for sport or fun. Sometimes because I hated him for what he did. For telling me he would be safe when really he had put himself up as a Sacrifice, knowing I couldn’t follow. And sometimes…I did it for information. Everything else can be forgiven, even hating him, but I whored myself out for information. I no longer deserve him. I am no longer the woman he loved.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“How can I be? I am destined to live. You keep saving me. Tending to me, feeding me, carrying me unconscious to aid. You should scorn me. Outcast me. Send me away for what you witnessed in that dungeon. Yet here you are, trying to get me to eat. Do you hate me, Cayan?”
“No, mesasha.”
“Will you tell me what that term means, now?” She’d asked him a few times since she’d heard it first, never hearing it from anyone else, but he had declined to answer. Said if she couldn’t figure it out by stealing his thoughts, then she was half dense. Though his tone was always light and joking, he hadn’t been smiling.
His eyes delving into hers, he slowly shook his head.
She sighed. “Well, I don’t want your help, anymore. I will not be returning with you. I will continue on toward the sea. I will probably have to whore myself out to get a boat, but I will. That is what I am, now.”
“You are being over-dramatic. You are not what you fear—with your Gift you wouldn’t need to use…anything else. Even still, you will make no more of your journey alone.”
“No? You are, what, going to hire a guide? Or you have realized my value, like that swine Xandre, the Being Supreme, and now you will keep me close so I can be your weapon? Or breed for you instead of him?”
“I know you need to make that trip. You will not do it alone.”
Shanti opened her wet eyes and looked at him. He was dirt stained and sweaty. His arms were bared, the great muscle, bronzed, shiny where the sun hit it. His eyes were deep and so, so blue. “What has given you the change of heart?”
“I have allies, Shanti. Many. Some will not head down the hard road, as I must, but many will. They will follow my lead. They will fight by our side. I need you. I need the people you hope to claim and bring back. I admit that, freely. But you need me. If we stay together we have a chance. If you leave, my people will surely die. The Inkna will probably come for us, first. Their masters are sure to follow if we aren’t destroyed. You need men and my power. I need the same of you. It can only work if we join forces.”
“I sure hope you aren’t going to talk about fate and divinity and all that crap. I’ve had enough of that with Sterling.”
“Sterling?”
“Yes, he’s pledged his sword, whatever that means. And his God, and the fates, and other things I didn’t understand.”
“It means he has vowed to protect you when you cannot protect yourself.”
“Oh. A second Chance. Well, my Chances tend to die, so thankfully he is more your man than he’ll ever be mine. But it would’ve been nice if he’d cut to the wick of it, instead of carrying on and on about the-Elders-can-only-be-sure.”
“Back to the subject at hand. In order to use you, I need you living. You need to eat and let Marc baby you.” Cayan was smiling. He had a lovely smile that always seemed to touch his eyes, making them twinkle like the surface of a rippling lake in the noon sun.
Shanti couldn’t find the humor, though. “I hurt, Cayan. A part of me died with Romie.”
“You need to heal. He died for a cause. You were forced to live for one. Don’t fail him or insult his memory with these thoughts. I don’t know much about love, but I think anyone would give you the same advice. If he truly loved you, he would have wanted you to regain your happiness. I’m sure he loved when you smiled.”
Shanti choked on a sob. Her chest felt like it was filled with rocks. “How did you know?”
“Because you have a beautiful smile.” Cayan looked deeply into her soul as he sat immobile, his heavy arms resting on his knees. “Rest. Eat. When you’re ready, we’ll spar. You can beat on me to ease your pain.”
“Let me have Jerrol. Please, Cayan. I’ll be discrete.”
“No. It’s not in me to allow it, and it would only torture you, anyway. Please do not ask again.”
He got up and moved away. He checked on a few of the men who were awake, laughing with one who had to get an arrow extracted from his leg. He knelt beside Sanders and put his hand on a bare arm. He moved to the other two and did the same. He probably determined that they were healing. Their brains were mending. The process would be quicker if Shanti were healthy. She hated to admit it, but Cayan had made a lot of sense. She needed to keep going. She had a job to do. If she did not see this thing to the end, her people would have died in vain. She could not let that happen.
Chapter 49
“Are you sure you’re up to it?”
Cayan was looking at her with a twinkle in his eyes. He wanted to laugh at her but kept himself from indulging.
They had been stationary for a week, putting together the crippled city of Tonnicka. The Inkna had all been killed and burned in a great pyre, the townspeople celebrating their demise and worshipping Cayan as their savior, but there were still months of destruction that had to be undone. Lucius had reestablished the local government, and they were already reshaping their community. Half of Cayan’s men returned to their homes, taking word of their victory, the bodies of those that did not make it, and the sick that could sit on a horse for the trip back. The rest remained to finish rebuilding the city with their sweat and hard work, or to recover.
With the trees at Shanti’s back, and nightly visits from Cayan to give her energy through the healing process, plus what she had learned from the little mouse they had captured in Cayan’s city, she was quickly mending. She gave that same benefit to Sanders and the other two that suffered mentally, and they were awake more often, their bodies filling out after being half starved, and their nightmares becoming less frequent.
She decided that since Cayan had sent Jerrol back to the city, and no one else had caught her interest, she would take Cayan up on his offe
r and beat some sense into him. Except for that nightly energy transfer, in which he insisted on holding her hand with fingers entwined, they rarely spoke or were in each other’s company. She was usually hovering on the outskirts of the fires, eyes closed, feeling the night, and he was with his men, talking and laughing and sharing a roasted something or other that the hunters had returned with or the townspeople had brought. He had his place, his world, and she didn’t belong in it. She couldn’t belong in it—she still freaked most of his men out.
The day of the challenge, the sun was streaming down, losing some of its heat as the season drew to a close and winter loomed. The men were all gathered around, creating a large circle, wanting to watch the woman fight without any other distractions. Legend had it she was pretty good. Marc and Leilius swore up and down that she was better than Lucius or Sterling, but it was said Marc and Leilius had a crush on the exotic woman and couldn’t be trusted.
Those that bet for her had seen a snippet of her in battle, though they hadn’t gotten long to gawk. Those that bet against had a bias, largely based off fear. They had heard what she had done with her mind, not believed the Captain was capable of it, and didn’t trust what they didn’t understand. They knew she was necessary, but didn’t want to get close to something so unpredictable as a woman who killed men with her mind, and worst of all, cried. Right in the middle of them sometimes!
Those were the men who learned that fear and arousal could sometimes go hand-in-hand.
Shanti was swinging her arm, warming up her weakened shoulder. It had been a shallow stab wound that was currently a scar, and would soon be smooth skin. The Gift wasn’t just for violence, especially when Cayan worked his version of healing. “Marc says no, I’m not ready, but you know him.”
“Doesn’t have a clue how to doctor,” Cayan said with a laugh, winking at an outraged Cadet.
“Weapons?” Shanti asked, motioning toward wooden practice swords.
“Nah. Mental?”
She stopped swinging her arm. “You want to go up against my Gift?”