Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(13)

“Ah, so the Captain is responsible for these torture devices. And no one has rebelled? Called down his service?”

“He’s not—just—it’s fashion!”

They stepped outside onto a clean cobblestone street, where every so often a large metal pole reached into the sky with thick candles nestled into a decorative steel cage at the top. Shanti noticed a man walking through the street with a long metal rod, reaching up into the metal cage to extinguish the small flame. The street held many small abodes like Molly’s, most with activity now that the sun rose, but a few without.

“Is this a main path?” Shanti asked curiously, taking in the stonework that overlaid the ground.

“Street, you mean? This is one of four main streets, yes. The smaller streets aren’t lined with candles—just the main ones. That’s why I live here—just in case someone from out of town needs a place—”

Shanti deafened her ears, a skill she’d learned within the first half day in that small room with the chatty woman. She turned her thoughts, instead, to her surroundings. One main path of four. Rather wide, too—big enough for two teams of horses pulling a cart each. It was a city, but not an incredibly large city. Harder to blend in with the difference in coloring and feature, but not impossible.

“Miss Molly.” It was a youth’s deep voice not yet filled out into the drum of manhood.

Shanti spun quickly. Her mind blossomed open, the net of her consciousness spreading out around her in a ten span radius—shockingly small for two days of rest. She should’ve done it earlier, though. She needed to stop being a tourist.

A large, young man strode toward them, arms swinging with lanky abandon. Wide shoulders nearly taking up the whole of the footpath, his muscles were already defined though he was probably only Marc’s age. Shanti had no doubt he would only get bigger. He had the potential for great strength and prowess, but now he walked more like a floppy puppy that still needed to grow into its feet.

“Xavier!” Molly said in a gush. “Who would’ve thought I would get all the promising new boys stopping by!”

Xavier. Shanti had heard that name before—the man she had taken down. His mind shed pleasant expectation, happy to meet a stranger and enjoy the morning walk. He harvested not one ounce of fear. He not only did not know her capabilities in mind or body, but he thought her harmless. And if she were wearing that corset, not able to breathe, sit, or bend at the waist, he surely would’ve been correct.

She retracted her Gift, backing away from mind contact. She needed the strength. Plus, moving like a stick man held together with yarn, two strikes would be enough to take him to the ground. Even in this horrible green dress.

“I’m supposed to escort you. Sorry I’m late—“ His gaze hit Shanti and he staggered forward, hands half reaching either to fall or grab.

Shanti kicked her shoes off—horrible stilt type things that increased her height but decreased her ability to walk--and her fingers tugged down the metal at her back, ready to tear the thing off and engage.

Then he smiled. “Sorry, ma’am. Last time I saw you, you were a pile of dirt. You clean up well.”

Shanti hesitated, and then got her fingers slapped away by Molly. Shifting and reclaiming the tiny square of metal, she said, “Do your people have problems with washing? I found the soap acceptable.”

“He’s saying you look pretty, dear,” Molly explained, swiping Shanti’s fingers away again before re-securing the dress.

“Pretty.” She couldn’t help the monotone in her voice. At one time in her life, she’d cared about such things—about men and mates and what it meant to be desired. She was only twenty-four, but even still, those days were gone, along with her people. Now, she’d rather be invisible.

“Say ‘thank you’,” Molly muttered disapprovingly, noticing Shanti’s shoes scattered across the cobblestones. Her answering scowl was fantastic.

“Thank you,” Shanti said without emotion. It would behoove her to stick within custom—to stay within the good graces of these people—until she could move on and regain that invisibility. Still, she didn’t like the reminder of days lost. Or being noticed sexually. Not anymore.

After a tsk, and some shoe orchestration, Molly said, “Let’s move. The Captain hates tardiness. And rudeness…”

A short walk later, they approached a large square building with very few ornaments. In fact, besides a plain, burnished metal door knocker and weathered door knob, it was completely nondescript. And because it was so plain, standing next to domestic dwellings with scrolls and embellishments, it stuck out like a barge amid sailboats. Someone wasn’t very clever at disguises with this office.

Xavier hurried forward, and Shanti danced off to the side to keep outside of arm’s reach. He opened the door with a flourish, waving them through.

Shanti stopped altogether, beckoning him in before her, spreading out her mind again. Her awareness crawled across the space within, mostly empty of any heat signatures or brain patterns, until the far right. It was like the sea washing up a beach, the foam of her mind lapping at the awaiting consciousness.

She strained, trying to reach farther. The effect had her limbs shaking and forehead beading in sweat. Hot pricks dug in her temples. She should’ve waited longer than two days to attempt this meeting. Not that she’d planned to meet at all...