Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(11)

“Yes. I am leaving today.”

“The Captain is always right.” She said it as though she thought he was magic. The door swung wide, admitting the dressed woman. “Well, you aren’t a hostage, make no mistake, but the Captain wants to talk to you before you go.”

“I am afraid that won’t be possible. I am leaving within the hour.”

Molly smoothed her apron, something she did when uncomfortable. In an apologetic voice, she said, “Young Master Nickles won’t be escorting you. You have no provisions and no idea where you’re headed. Also, your bag of…articles has been recovered. The Captain wishes to speak with you about it this morning.”

Hope deflated. Shanti physically felt better, her body having always healed quickly, but she’d been on the brink of starvation. Another day would’ve been death. She was no miracle case; her muscles were stringy and depleted, her Gift not even at a quarter of its potency, and any real movement had her breathing heavy. If it came to a fight, she’d be taken down.

So what then were her options?

Shanti paced toward the window and looked out at the darkened street. Early morning dew sparkled, the street looking sleek and wet. Her only other choice was to flee. If she could exist in the wild long enough to rejuvenate, she could sneak back in and steal her bag.

She turned back to the bed, her gaze scanning the light sheets and woven blanket, then flitting to the nightgown neatly folded on the bed stand. Then she shook her head. How would she get out of the city, hardly able to walk, let alone run, with a nightgown and a blanket? Not to mention she had no food, and no weapons to procure any food.

Resigned, she turned back to the window. “What sort of person is this Captain?”

Sensing compliance, Molly sprung to life, her sizable br**sts swinging wildly. “Oh, he’s just great, he is! Strong in mind and body and absolutely loved by everyone. Especially the women.” She threw Shanti a glinted eye, an undercurrent of meaning Shanti didn’t catch, before bustling out of the room, returning a moment later with a folded heap of fabric. “He inherited the post, of course, because that’s how we do things here. The firstborn son takes the mantle. But the late Captain, God rest his soul, passed away before his time. Here, dear, put this on.”

Molly handed Shanti a soft white slip with tiny straps, intended to cover her torso. Molly unfolded short pants a moment later and passed those over as she continued, “He didn’t have any brothers or sisters, of course, so he had to learn the post by himself at a young age. Oh, he’s got the council to help him with big decisions, but the weight rests on his shoulders. And there isn’t anyone better to take the burden!”

Molly picked up a shimmer of green fabric by the top corners and gently lifted. It unfurled into the biggest, thickest, fluffiest dress Shanti had ever seen.

Shanti wondered why a dress had been brought out when she had already stepped into a top and pants, but she had more important things to ponder. “He has the city and fighting camp both at his disposal? He has the power to control both?”

“Oh yes. But he’s borne it marvelously, like I said. Fair and just, that’s our Captain. If you do wrong, watch out, but he weighs all the elements and makes his decision. It’s always the right one, mark my words. He always knows.”

“That’s a lot of power for one man. Power generally spawns corruption.”

Molly waved that thought away and scoffed. “Maybe with bigger cities, but not our Captain. He is as solid as an oak, he is.”

Molly carefully laid down the heap of green dress and picked up a rectangular swatch of fabric with thick ribs sewn into it. From one edge dangled laces, along the other edge were holes.

“What is that for?” Shanti asked with skepticism.

Molly held the fabric between two hands and pushed it at Shanti’s midsection, securing it around her torso, then working around and attempting to tie her in.

“No!” Shanti exclaimed, struggling out. “I will not be tied and delivered like a package!”

Molly’s face contorted into an expression of half confusion, and half frustration. “My lady, you have to put on the proper attire to meet the Captain!”

Shanti pointed at the material. “That is something women wear? Why?”

“It supports the br**sts, cinches the waist, and makes the figure just exquisite, dear, you’ll see.” Molly stepped forward again, fabric stretched out in front of her like a fireproof blanket and Shanti the flame.

Shanti danced to the side, clumsily banging her hip on the corner of the bed in her attempt to evade Molly. She rethought fleeing. “No, thank you. No way. Are women here insane? Are their lives so easy that they have to invent challenges in their dress? That device cuts off breath. I am weak enough as it is.”

“This is fashionable, my lady!” Molly shook the fabric at her.

“Fashion, ah yes. A fool’s game, if I am not mistaken. No, I am good as I am. Give me a wrap or cover for the morning and I should be fine.”

The fabric dropped slowly as Shanti’s words sank in. Molly’s gaze drifted down Shanti’s body. An eyebrow quirked. “As you are?”

“Yes, some pants would do me fine. Possibly some that covered my entire leg, but I will take whatever you have. This region is hot, so I need not be completely covered.”

“Pants? You can’t wear pants! Like a man? Oh no, dear. No, no. You can’t appear in front of the Captain without appropriate clothing. I will bend on the corset, which is… well, you are not from here, so okay. But pants? I couldn’t. How would that reflect on me?”